Weakening of the soul
Find a trail somewhere
Weakening of the soul
Find a trail somewhere
Right walks correctly
A righteous man strolls slowly
Take the easy way
Thought I saw a shark fin today,
Turned out that it was nothing,
But good for the laughs.
Walked a mile in blazing afternoon sun,
Only to turn around and do it again,
But it was good for the muscles and hanging time.
Talked about schools in the blazing evening sun,
Finishing up with reminiscing about my new hometown,
But it seemed important to do.
Had a hot shot of coffee flavored tequila,
Followed up by an ocean cold shower,
It doesn’t take much.
Winds blowing with force
A pit bull’s ears hanging low
Too cold for walking
Doves cooing peacefully
Wave ramparts soothe a tired mood
A cool morning walk
Freedom to walk
Wherever I want
Without having to worry
About whoever might tag along.
From East Liberty
To the North Side
Hunting photographic opportunities
While looking for art museums
Hidden by the directions
On my phone’s app.
I cruised through renovation
More aptly called gentrification.
I passed by urban blight
That can’t recognize the need for change
Or stop the tsunami of funding
Designed to end the dilapidation.
Life changes, baby…
Better be ready for a new home.
The capitalist developers are circling.
One guy found his fortune,
A little speck of land right on the river
That is dotted with signs
Warning of limited contact with the water
Since it mixes with sewage
When the rains overflow into the river.
He seemed not to care,
His tent proudly pitched with a view
Of Steel City’s downtown.
Directions led me astray
And I saw Warhola Recycling.
The guy with the buzz cut
And hands full of metal to be repurposed
Was super friendly and I wondered
If he was related to Andy.
Finally, I made it there
To the museum and took in the pop art experience,
Appreciating ODU and thinking how young Warhol seemed at death.
The video of Lou Reed was shocking
Since I always thought he was old, but
On film, he didn’t look old enough to drink.
Finding the Mattress Factory was tough,
The payoff was in the omelet and salad,
Everyone back home would be surprised to know
I housed the tomatoes and, yes, cucumbers
Before venturing into the world of installation art
That I feel woefully unprepared to discuss
Because the simple objects rarely incite
Deep thematic or metaphorical thought inside my feeble brain.
It’s cool to look at though,
Like the lady covered in tattoos
Who walked around the exhibit with a bit of pride
When people looked at her.
I wonder if she was thinking,
“Why are they looking at me?” or
She was a canvas and while unavoidable to look at,
But she was more shock than show.
The two-hour walk back to the hotel
Was too much to attempt with threatening skies,
So I set up an Uber and wished that the old man in the fancy car
Had been my driver instead of the western PA racist
Who pulled up.
The crack in his windshield
Suggested the imperfection in his attitude about culture
And I was just thankful to be out of his car
Without reaching over and grabbing him by the neck, red as it was.
So, I’m back in the hotel,
Laptop on the bar
Typing away as I assimilate a beer, Amaretto Sour, and Moscow Mule,
All three being awesome, although, I can’t complain about anything here.
The crowd is cosmopolitan, hipster, artsy, diverse, and
Just appreciative of the space and its history.
I’m glad I’m here
Summer took the morning off
Allowing for a long walk
With my dog in cool breezes.
We headed into town
Passing the closed art galleries
And sleepy eyed patrons
Of the breakfast cafes.
The Saturday regular garage sale ritual
Was in full swing
With an old man dragging wistfully
On a sweet smelling cigar
As he hocked the same leather chairs
He put out every week.
Today, he was accompanied
By two other old guys, who
Sported farm equipment baseball caps
And collared work shirts
Tucked tightly into khaki dungarees.
The time they spent together was
Probably more valuable
Than anything they had for sale.
We kept a smooth pace,
Something in between exercise and strolling,
Until finally it was time to go home.
The alarm went off early this morning
In the form of a wet nose
Poking me right in the middle of my face.
The offending snout was insistent,
Wanting to wake up and walk,
But, come on, it was still dark outside.
Besides, the birds were still sleeping
So I rolled over,
A tactic that had worked on my kids in the past.
No luck, nature was calling
And my man needed to get out,
Even if it was really early.