Suspect Behavior

Suspect Behavior

I was in a Starbucks the other day, but I fear it could have been a Tim’s, Williams or Coffee Culture just as easily.  I was profoundly disturbed at what I saw, especially considering it is the Christmas season.  

As I sat with my cell phone and Grisham novel drinking my Latte Grande and enjoying the ambience of the over heated cafe I noticed an odd looking guy sitting at a table not too far away.  He was dressed well enough, sipping his coffee, but there was something very odd, very off, very disturbing about this young guy.  I wasn’t certain as to what was wrong with the picture before me as I occasionally looked up from my book at this young man.

It wasn’t the rips in his trendy blue jeans, or his pea jacket with the long scarf.  It was...I just didn’t know at first.  I was agitated and disturbed that I couldn’t put my finger on what it was that bothered me about this guy.  I kept looking up and around the room hoping I would get some inspiration. 

Beside me, and across from me, were young people, old people on their lap-tops, talking and texting on their cell phones, reading their books and then it hit me like a hundred pound bag of ethically and organically grown coffee beans.  I looked at the odd stranger yet again and observed: where was his I-pad? His lap top? A book? A cell phone?  He had none of those things, not one. And yet he walked amongst us in a public cafe.

That’s the whole point...

There is this guy

in this coffee shop

sitting at that table

not on his cell

not on his laptop

or I pad

not reading a book

Just drinking coffee

like some psychopath.

This may not be an isolated case.  There may be others out there just like him. Sitting.  We are not alone.

Lake Louise, Alberta October 2015

A Fable

Pigeon enjoyed his roost at the top of the corn silo. It gave him a splendid sense of superiority, not to mention a pretty fine view of the spreading farmland below.  Pigeon could sit in the silo for hours, but today he felt restless with an ill at ease feeling he could quite get his beak around . 

Considering his breed of Rock Pigeons mate for life he expected more from his own parents.  what sort of role model was that He cooed to himself.  He had to admit he was disturbed when he heard the first bits of gossip from the humming birds.  Those annoying little birds always humming and happy, yet so full of such trash talk, like a junk yard dog. How could one believe their stories.  But when Pigeon finally heard the barnyard cats glibbly talking about the separation he took note and had to believe it was true. His parents had flown separate migratory paths and dear ole dad took it so badly he flew himself into a window, just like those stupid crows on the windex commercials. 

Pigeon was furious with his father.  How could he do such a thing and especially just before Pigeon’s own wedding to a well educated city Rock Dove from up north. They met at a feral pigeon Migratory conference in the city while sitting on a statue of a World War l soldier.  They had each skipped a session on celestial navigation, after noticing each others name tags from the conference they struck up a conversation about the utter uselessness of teaching pigeons to navigate is about as productive as giving ducklings swimming lessons.

Black Lace

Black Lace for Lovers

We stood in front of the student union building

In our second year and thought, we knew it all.

We had our picture taken next to the phallic metal

Sculpture holding our motorcycle helmets like

Tiny testicles.  Decorated with toilet paper with 

Stupid grins we marveled at our creativity.

We shared a basement apartment near Kits Beach 

Where we entertained girl friends in our common

Bedroom.  You played your guitar and wrote lyrics

About descending to the nude beach where we bought

Fudgesicles from a naked vendor with with pendulous tanned

breasts standing stately in the sunshine next to a cement bunker

designed to defend against the Japanese.  On those same beaches

saved for democracy and our western ways, a naked couple tossed 

a Frisbee.  It endlessly hangs in space.  The tide is out.

In another life, I sold my motorcycle for a used Pinto.

You sold your BSA for a truck and buskered in the East.

I married very badly. 

 My ex-wife bought black lace for her lovers.

Car Wash Blues

Four Cars Back at the Car Wash Blues

Wonder and surprise, this duplicity comes from the mere simplicity of the moment and seems most available to the young.  Now old I walk ocean side on secluded beaches during the off season seeking solice.  Walking and slowing the pace of life reveals layers of details never before observed, while in my other life I looked through binoculars backwards, everything at a distance. I find that when I am four cars back at the car wash, on a humid day, I suspend my expectations as my life is no longer attached to outcomes.  I observe the fine detail and make sense of life in the moment.  The couple in the blue Audi coupe in front of me, drop their fast food wrappers and containers on the parking lot.  The young girl, with the shapely figure, with holes in her blue jeans leaves the car suddenly, as if disgusted, abondoning her boy friend in bewilderment with such wonder and surprise. 

on Ownership...

Last Time Ever

Have you ever gotten to the point

when

because of some quirkie anomaly concerning

your age

you have thought:

This is the last car I will ever buy.

This is the last suit I will ever wear.

This is the last trip I will ever make.

This is my last mortgage...

Yeah, I have

and that’s the last time

I ever do that!

On Home Ownership

My cleaning lady is a former refugee,

next week she is going to the

Dominican Republic for her winter

vacation.

She cleans our house every Thursday

and sells real estate on the side.

She doesn’t do windows.

The guy installing my vinyl siding owns

a condo in Florida, on the Gulf side.

He stays there for the entire month of March

fishing from his Boston Whaler and watching

for sea turtles.

My handyman comes in often to install things,

build things and fix things. He also owns

two properties that he maintains and rents out.

He will be in Whistler this winter.

I think I may just sell my house on Thursday.