Finished my last delivery home soon.  The light is turning yellow hit the brakes.  There goes the tires.  Damn The Hawk is out look at the cables swinging over the street.  Try  to relax.  I can smell rubber and feel my feet beginning to throb on the pedals, two symptoms of the sickness known as spending life racing everyone else to the red light.  The red light is my conscience now so why bother with church on Sundays anymore.

Read more »

I thought it was just her way, always ambitious in her inclination to be alone and irritable when affection is advanced on someone else’s schedule. There was one exception; I possessed the key that could open up her world in a second. Every night at 11 she would jump up on my knees when the ice cream arrived on the scene. Her eyes would brighten, and the universal, feline OM would rise from some undiscovered spot beyond her bones. It’s a courageous step to take when one comes out of the familiar cold of self-imposed isolation and into the exotic warmth of affection from another living being.

Read more »

Kelly climbed the aluminum bleachers to get a good look at Rowdy Rod’s Chainsaw Show.  She enjoyed the more distinguished divertissements, Acadia National Park among them, the Fletcher Granite Quarry another, but the summer residents took those spots every year. They clustered atop Cadillac Mountain to watch sunsets. They perfected the art of amateur photography on the Porcupine Islands.  They paid the native Mainers to bring them picnics of daiquiris and lobster.

Read more »