Change is good, replied the cashier.
Trekking with the numerous lost souls. The journey continues on.
He’s known as the ‘why’ man, for he is always asking the why of everything.
She’s savoring the all around beauty, of the numerous wild flowers.
She lives in a household full of mad, whacked-out people.
Living the life of a nomad.
Her Sunday breakfast special, soupy pancakes.
The daily daydreamers bus has arrived.
Willie and Wilma are at the kitchen table, drinking day-old brewed coffee, and both are wondering why it tastes like shit.
Delusional thoughts, warped ideas, a mind full of fabrications and he believes, that whatever he says is the truth, when he damn well knows they are lies, bullshit, etc., etc….
She knew the weather is bad, but she was determined to venture out to the bodega, to get milk, as she had none left. Bundled up, she encountered white out conditions, and soon enough, she got disoriented, and didn’t know where she was.
The next morning her son woke up, and his mother was not home. He called his aunt to see if she was there, and she said no.
An hour later, there was a knock on the door. It was the police notifying him, that a man out walking his dog. found her face down on a snowbank, and apparently froze to death.
Agnes, the goddess of children’s story telling.
Sam was in his glory, as the woman behind the counter, gave him a bag of day old muffins and doughnuts. She also filled his thermos with fresh brewed coffee.
Sam is homeless, and has no job. He forages in the dumpsters for returnable cans and bottles, which keeps him busy.
Now he is thankful for people like the woman that works at the local bakery. Sam sees the best the best in people, and that’s a good thing.
He never does what the play book says to do. Just wings it, and hopes for the best out come.
She sleeps soundly on a mattress filled with stiff straw.
He said, “Oh shit.” She told him to watch his mouth. So for the rest of the day, he looked into the hand held mirror, never to put it down.
By day, he lives the life of a monk. In the evening, a con artist, is his vocation.
The young couple, love dancing in the rain.
Joel would do anything, to see his long, lost love. He would walk bare foot on hot coals, a bed of nails or a flooded street. She meant so much to him, but he could not understand why she refused to see him. He would give it one more try and talk to her and if she still would not give him a satisfactory answer, as to why she ended it, then he would just go back home, and sit in his favorite chair, and stare at the four walls, to ponder, what if, and there were many what ifs.
On almost any given night, the insomniacs congregate at the mid-town diner, with cups of coffee to discuss the different reasons, of the whys they cannot sleep.
Preaching to the choir for harmony.
The green look on his face says, he had something to eat, that certainly did not agree with him. Hello bathroom.
The jury’s back. Not looking good.
Moaning and groaning is his calling.
He and she, will never see eye to eye, and it will always be like that.
A nightmare on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
His breath wreaks of cheap booze.
His boat doesn’t sail on water.
His mind is filled with impure thoughts, accompanied with lust in his heart and loins.
Snake oil salesmen, awash in Washington.
Sign adhered on the merchant’s door says, “Gone fishing for fish, for my favorite aunt’s dinner.” “Wish me luck.”
He and she, will forever be.
On a beautiful warm day, he decides to go outside, and sits himself down on the stoop. He takes out his blues harp, and plays some down home blues. Some of the passersby stop to watch him, and love what they are hearing. That makes him a very happy guy.
The moon is dark.
The wolves are quiet.
Makes for an eerie feeling.
He is the man who never plans for anything. Just wings it, and he is fine with that.
Only the brave will walk in the darkness of a dense forest, and will come out unscathed.
Sitting in the shade, enjoying life.
He’s known as the “I said it, but I didn’t say it” guy.
Gazing at the white, puffy clouds.
She has a bad habit of mincing words, and she will never change. Its in her DNA.
Watching paint dry, could be exhilarating.
Whenever he has anything to say, he rambles like a babbling brook.
He’s never wrong.
So it goes.
He is the master of deceit.
The look of love is showing in her eyes, while lust was in his heart. They hit it off.
So it goes. So it goes.
Truth be told, he’s known as the great deflector.
Whenever proven wrong, he won’t apologize.
The prophet loves to spread his doom and gloom, while imbibing with a bottle of his favorite whiskey.
She impressed him with her sensuality.
Free floating like a soaring eagle.
She’s always been known to be a people person.
His daily regimen of 30 some odd years for lunch is, baloney and cheese with mustard on wheat. He never believed in having anything different.
He is known as the master of manipulation.
Buried the ax, all is forgiven.
She only ate toast on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The reason is, both days begin with the letter “T.”
She decided today would be good to pay a visit, to the new super market, which is having a grand opening. Off she went, to see what the store has to offer.
Well, she couldn’t believe what was happening. There was quite a few people pushing the shopping carts, putting imaginary food, paper goods, milk and other sort of goodies. Everything in the store was not real. You just imagine that you are putting a gallon of milk in the cart. The same with everything else. The customers going to the checkout registers, putting their imaginary food and stuff on the belt, and paying for it, with real money, and or credit/debit cards.
She was spooked to say the least, as asking herself, was she living in another dimension. Or was it something out of the old TV show “The Twilight Zone.”
She decided she had seen enough, left the store, and saw people bringing their bags of imaginary food to their cars. She headed straight home, called one of her friends, and told her she saw. Her friend thought she was a bit off, and told her to speak to her shrink, but instead, she pulled out a bottle of vodka, and a couple of hours later, she was shit faced.
The next morning, after her hangover wore off, she went back to the same store, to see if she was imagining it. Lo and behold, the store wasn’t there. WTF! She asked a person what happened to the store that was here yesterday, and he said, what store. She said the new super market. He replied, lady, there never was a super market, so you must be imagining things, or was hallucinating.
After another minute or two, she went back home, and opened another bottle of vodka, and drank herself to sleep.
He never socializes with his co-workers.
Spending quality time with no one.
She is standing on the railing of the fourth floor balcony, threatening to jump. A passerby, who actually knew her, looked up, and shouted up and asked, “what are you doing?” She replied, “its all over, so I’m going to end it all by jumping down to the ground.” He pleaded with her not to do it. She said, “I have to.” ‘Please don’t try to talk me out of it.”
In the mean time, a small started to gather, waiting to see what she is going to do.
She hollered down to the man that knows her, and asked him, how much you want to wager, that I will jump off this railing? He said, “$10.00.” She laughed. “Why are you laughing?” he asked. She said, “let’s make it more worth while bet.” Okay he said, “25.00.” She said, “$50.00.” Another person shouted, “$75.00.” Another said, “$100.00.” She said, “your on.”
All of the people watching, now started to shout “jump!” And they shouted it a few times, and finally, she jumped backwards, onto the floor of the balcony. The people were disappointed, especially the ones who lost their bets, and she was leaning over the railing, yelling “I’m on my way down to collect the money, you chumps owe me.”
Later in the day, she is running different ideas in her head, as to see who or how many people, she can fool and make some easy money.
On Sundays, she likes to keep everything simple.
There’s a group sitting in chairs, and a few others sprawled on the floor, are reading lines for a casting call. They all have hopes of getting the chance of acting in a Broadway play. In the end, it will be one male, and a female that will make the cut. Needless to say, there were a few frayed nerves, edginess, and one pacing around the room, which was all said and done, happened to be the one that got a role in the production. The only time he did any acting, was back in the fifth grade.
As for the others who didn’t make it, some of them had prior acting experience. In the scheme of things, some of them knew that working on Broadway or off Broadway, is like a roll of the dice. Make it, or break it.
The man tells me he has a real exciting job. “So, what do you do that excites you about your job?” He says, “splitting atoms using plastic cutlery.” I was dumb founded and speechless. After a minute or two, he asked me what I did for work. My reply, “cleaning up the bullshit people leave, as some do make a real mess, and it is an endless task.”
After that rather dull conversation, we parted ways.
Without warning, her coffee maker died.
A way for him to enjoy peace and solitude, he likes to go for a sail on the calm, blue water.
He’s eating donuts, while skipping rope.
His mind was playing tricks, due to a lack of sleep, and the strong black coffee wasn’t doing him any good. All he could do, is sit in his favorite chair, and stare out the window.
He said ”I’ve nothing to say, especially to you,” and off he went, into the dead of night.
The couple in the restaurant are sitting across from each, enjoying their meal and the conversation. She was very happy to be with him, and to make the evening more enjoyable, she took off one of her shoes, and with nylon clad foot, moved it up his leg very slowly, and it brought a smile. She winked, then put her shoe back on. Well she said… Bingo! He paid the bill, and off they went.
She had the odd look on her face, like she has two heads and four tits, and never said a word.
He never liked being a conversationalist.
Sitting passively at the window with her mug of tea, she knows that everything is right in her own little corner of the world.
Beware, he is on a mission, to find the culprit who stole his wallet.
Sitting at the bay window, with their warm mugs
of coffee, the husband and wife of 40 plus years
of marriage, are happily watching the children
playing in the high snow banks. It brought big
smiles, as they remembered when they did same
Cherished memories they will always have.
He talks from both sides of his mouth.
The elderly couple are at a complete
loss, of what they see as of the blight
of their once, and proud beautiful neighborhood.
They both wished they had never came back,
as it brought tears to their eyes.
He took a long walk
on a short pier,
and never was to be
A man without a plan.
He rather wing it, and
hopes it works.
His brains was like scrambled eggs
without the pepper and ketchup.
She’s known as the naked poet.
The flap jacks and pancakes
along with the coffee, are
all the rave, at the 24/7/365
mid-town diner. The patrons
always leave full and happy,
and that makes the owners
who are identical twins happy
The young newly Wed couple
bought a condo apartment, which is
on the third floor. They were aghast
seeing that the rear balcony, has sweeping
views of the city’s landfill, swarming with
crows, seagulls and pigeons. The odors
emanating from there, wasn’t exactly
The photographer likes the
striking pose of her nude body lying
under the stately oak tree. She sees
herself a natural, as this is something
she has never done before.
You would swear on your
mothers cranberry sauce
sandwich, that her husband’s
beady eyes, could bore a
hole through a wall.
Her smile shows her pearly whites.
He was so irate for locking
himself out of the apartment
that he punched the wall with
such force, he broke his hand
and jammed the wrist too.
Write, write, write she says.
Right he says, as you are right
for telling me to write the right stuff.
Walking with a swagger
and his fedora cocked
just a bit, caught the
eyes of the fine looking
He’s one for thinking like
a brain on steroids.
He water skis on the snow.
It was a good night to take
a walk with his dog, on the snow
covered cemetery. His mission was
to hopefully find the ghost of Edgar
Allan Poe, and if he did see him, he
would knew be at a loss as to what
to say to him. If not, then he would
have the memory of seeing the famous
writer of the mystery and the macabre.
He never said he was
a rocket scientist.
The little boy was in awe of the super moon,
as he could not believe the size of it. He asked
his mom to take a picture of it, so he can look at it
whenever he needed cheering up.
He’s creepy as a sly fox.
His life, a comedy of errors, which turns out to be a never-ending quest.
The crochety old man parks
his ass the rocking chair, that
was originally his great aunt,
with the TV on which he is not
paying attention to what is on.
Instead, he gets his tablet, boots
it up, then decides to read how
the country is going to hell in
a hand basket. He’s disgusted
with he what he has read, and
in a raised voice which startles
his sleeping dog, “Fucking Politicians,
they can all go to hell.”
Sitting on the front porch,
he watching with glee, the
neighbors dog chasing its
tail. Its the highlight
of an otherwise, boring day.
With her piercing eyes
you’d swear that she could
penetrate through a brick wall.
Serving coffee and fast food, at the all night diner, which is frequented by people of all walks of life. Always open no matter what the weather is like, and everyone is happy.