Wednesday, December 26, 2012

During the Christmas Party

During the Christmas party, Bobby the Fly is dead, so we dig a grave. It is a small grave, of course -- just one or two teaspoons of earth. Jessica, age 4, is crying as we dig the grave.

I put Bobby the Fly, in the hole.

"I there anything you'd like to say?" I ask Jessica. I can hear people laughing hysterically in the other room, to America's Funniest Home Videos.

Jessica looks at me and doesn't know what she should say at a funeral for a fly. She wants me to say something.

I think about it, and I say, "Oh Lord, we understand that Thou knowest all things, and you love all your creation with equanimity. We are gathered here to give Bobby the Fly back to the earth. For from the earth we are created, and back to it we will remain, until when you raise us op on Angles Wings."

"AMEN!" yells Jessica, and she jumps up tears dry, to play Nintendo.


After I put a scoop of earth from the potted plant on top of Bobby, I go into the kitchen, where Bernice, Jessica's mom, is drunk and hitting on my friend Joe, who is gay. Joe is nice and doesn't tell her he is gay.

"How's it go for the fly funeral?" says Bernice.

"All done."

"That's good. I wouldn't know what to say fer a fukin fly. But you would."

I've known Bernice for a long time, since grade-school, so this is a complement. Plus I used to drink and she knows it.

Bernice swivels to look at Joe, who she has by the crook of his arm. She gives me a sly look over her shoulder.

I'm half thinking about the time in high school, when some friends had a dog that died when their parents were out of town and they had to bury it in the garden, but rigor-mortise had set in. The ground was harder than fuck, and they misjudged the depth, so when they were done covering their pet, it's legs were sticking out of the mound.

They didn't want anyone to be upset the dog died when they were partying, or know they did a disrespectful job burying it because they were stoned, so they cut the dogs legs off with an axe.

Then I note that Bernice reminds me of a girl I was dating, who is now out of town for the holidays. I miss her. I don't know where she is. There is nothing I can do. I bury flies.

Looking at Joe and Bernice in the well-lit kitchen on Christmas, it is funny what I think about during the holidays.

Monday, December 24, 2012

Christmas Eve Evening

On Christmas Eve evening it is raining. I walk into the apartment, and I close the door. As if someone was watching me, the phone rings.


"You need to come over an screw me." says Claire on the phone.

"Screw?" I reply, and I look out my window. Claire is standing in the window in her underwear, across the street at the Bella Arms Apartments, with its delicate scroll-work on pastel faded facade. As I look at her curves I notice a lot of other people are looking at her, in the street.

"Come over an fuck me right now." says Claire on the phone, gyrating with special emphasis in the lighted window, for everyone to see.

I hang up, and I go to the bathroom. 

In the middle of my sojourn, I hear a knocking a the door. It is three pissed off policemen.

"Would you please go see the lady across the way?"


"Or we'll arrest her."

It is lightly raining. I go across the way, past the transmitting news-truck and the crowd of people, into the Bella Arms. When I slam the door to Claire's apartment, she wraps her legs around me.

"I'm glad you didn't want them to arrest me." says Claire, nibbling on my earlobe.

The crowd outside roars with approval, and this reminds me everyone on the street can see us. Claire  feels nice. What the hell can you do? I close the blinds.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

ING Looking fo IST

ING got up, and felt good. ING decided to go looking for IST. It was such a perfect morning, with things flecked with snow, nice and brisk. The sun was pulling him along. When ING found out at the old apartment that IST had a new boyfriend, and they had gone out of town for the holidays, ING understood. At a cafe ING wrote IST a little text message, wishing her the best and for a Happy New Year, that he was thinking of her. She wrote back right away, and it said "Thanks, what a nice surprise to see your text, and you, too."

Friday, December 07, 2012

Poem - Poem Addressed to December About How I Should Take a Nap

dedicated to Richard Brautigan


i should
take a




A Short Story About Being Blue and Thinking About Richard Brautigan and How His Mailman Probably Hated Him

When I feel blue, I think about Richard Brautigan, living in Bolinas. He lived there many years, and I'm sure it seemed a long time, with the drinking he was doing. The mailman probably hated him.



A Short Story About the Sky and Hearing a Helicopter

for Richard Brautigan

I hear a helicopter, then it is gone. The sky looks like marble.