friends – Page 4 – three good words

July 20, 2015

07/04

July Fourth and they were all in New Jersey at a grand cook-out in Inez’ parent’s back yard. Inez had invited everyone, and almost all had come: Chloë and someone new by the name of Will (Nicolas was hi-sto-ry, oh, you wouldn’t believe), Clarissa with her Greg, who had recently been promoted to ‘the love of her life’ (though she still wasn’t sure if he wasn’t seeing someone else ‘on the sly’), Olivieri with Rachel (calm and content as always) and Matisen alone. He’d decided Inez had to have some hot cousin he could chat up and talk into God-knew-what, Lana didn’t even want to know.

By the look of it he was succeeding very well with a certain Isabella, it was depressing really. Never mind all that, there was her, Lana with Timothy, Timothy who had his arm around her whenever he could. There were tables and chairs set up in small groups, children racing around, the Santa Cruz talking and laughing animatedly, merengue cascading out of the enormous stereo on the veranda, one whole side of the garden an enormous smorgasbord of delicious food. The sky was wonderfully blue, the parade worth seeing, and everyone happy to have a day off to celebrate.

Lana was already on her third margarita, her fingers still sticky from the fantastic barbecue, not that she was complaining, Inez’ family really knew their food. She was anyway laughing at Inez, who couldn’t stop grumbling about another suitor her family had set her up with, this time a certain Ramón. He seemed quite nice, not bad-looking either, but Inez ‘so didn’t care’, though she remained polite. They all meandered from table to table, listened in to wild stories about the Santa Cruz’ life in New Jersey, laughing with everyone, and generally had a really good time. Every now and then Timothy would pull Lana close and kiss her lips, always gently with a hint of more, making Inez’ mother wink at Lana and then give her daughter a telling look that made Inez sigh and roll her eyes.

July Fourth and it turned out to be one of the few days in a long while where Lana was just happy to be where she was, with her friends and Timothy, her surrogate family. July Fourth and for a few hours Lana was just happy to be alive.

June 14, 2015

white stairs

quiet steps
across sunny stone
scaling the depth of summer

white stairs
solemnly clear
bright
in their commemoration
of a cruel time

now used daily
as a resting place
by those visiting from abroad.

after sunset
voices rise
to glasses raised

laughter rippling
across fountains
sparkling in fanning light

lives lived
among strangers
together
on ancient steps
once built by a great power

then everpresent
now lying low
among the weathered stone

remembered
but no longer known.

April 17, 2015

before/after

Before
not love
no
the necessity of a moment
pain that was cured
freedom secured
nothing angelic
nothing from above
no
nothing
notlove

After
to miss a presence
that fills the space
between night and day
work and play
a knowing
a showing
of understanding
feeling, something
beyond
beyond

Now
peace, today
not age
maybe wisdom
far more play
now
not then
real and true
enjoyment
.

April 11, 2015

harvest

This is an experiment in dialogue, hence the lack of descriptive text.

A cottage at the outskirts of a village, tidily kept, smoke rising from the chimney. There is a garden with rows of vegetables, fenced in. Rolling hills spread out green around it, seamed by a dark forest. The sun is shining, birds are singing, there are a few clouds in the sky.

Scene 1

‘Oi!’
‘Huh?’
‘You there! What’s that? What do you think you’re doing young man?’
‘Um.’
‘What? Lost your tongue? You do know that was my cabbage you were attacking, don’t you?’
‘It looked like a –’
‘A what?’
‘A boar, sir.’
‘A boar. Boy, do you think I’m daft?’
‘Sorry, sir, but we were just coming down and – it really did. Sir. I swear. Cally Boison can swear it too.’
‘Yeah, and I’m wearing my knickers on my head.’
‘Um.’
‘What?’
‘In fact… at least… is that a hat?’
‘It’s very fashionable these days. Talk of the town.’
‘Oh. Sorry. Missed that. Very nice. Very… modern.’
‘You think so?’
‘Oh, quite, quite.’
‘Wonderful. Got it half price. Well. Where was I. Yes. My cabbage. What were you poking into it for? Perfectly healthy cabbage, no need to murder it in broad daylight. And you really think it’s modern?’
‘The cabbage?’
‘The hat.’
‘Oh, that. Yes. Very. Modern, I mean.’
‘Wonderful, wonderful. It was my cabbage, you know. Very fine stock. Don’t always get them this good. And then you come around poking into it as if it were some marshmallow. Don’t you have any decency man? Imagine I was digging up weeds and you’d poked my head instead – !’
‘I checked, sir, you were in the kitchen, so no danger there.’
‘Ah, I see. Mischief by Design and Destruction of Personal Property. Well, I must say – do you really think it’s modern? In the New Fashion Weekly kind of way?’
‘The New Fashion – ?’
‘Weekly. The Bible of Fashion as I am told. Is it that?’
‘I don’t know –’
‘You don’t know? After what you did to my cabbage?’
‘I’m sorry, sir, slipped my mind. Just read it yesterday. Yes, very fashionable in the fashionable-weekly- fashion-bible way, sir.’
‘Ah, good, good. Glad to hear it. Cally Boison, you say? How’s his father doing?’
‘Um. Good, sir.’
‘Still on the drink?’
‘Not so much, sir.’
‘A boar, you say? Wild or domestic?’
‘Well. It was kind of… pointy, sir.’
‘Pointy.’
‘Like a… a… fox, sir.’
‘A fox.’
‘Or a cat.’
‘A pointy boar fox cat?
‘Well, we were chasing it, sir.’
‘The pointy boar fox cat.’
‘- Yes.’
‘Into my garden.’
‘Well -’
‘You’re Ham Felsher’s lad, aren’t you? When’s the last time you had a decent meal?’
‘Well, Cally and I -’
‘Where is he actually?’
‘Up there.’
‘Where. The tree? – You there! Stop eating my apples! Get down here right now! Cally Boison! I know where you live!’
‘Speaking of, sir, would you mind not telling -’
‘Who, Ham? Still got that temper, has he?’
‘Well -’
‘Tell your friend to stop digesting my produce and I’ll see what I can – Cally Boison, I can see you! Get your hands off my carrots!’
‘Sir, please, it’s just a couple -’
‘And then what? Do you even have a pot, or are you going to just boil it on a stone?’
‘Seamus!’
‘Mother of God. Yes, Ethel!’
‘What’s going on out there?’
‘You better get inside before she starts asking questions. Just negotiating terms, Ethel! Now, I’ll have none of that nonsense you lads get up to. You keep a civil tongue in your mouth, and I’ll count all the pots and spoons after you leave, you understand?’
‘What in God’s name are you talking about?’
‘Guests, Ethel! Boison and Felsher’s lads! They’ll be helping us out till the harvest! Aren’t you lads?’
‘Um. Well. Yeah? I mean, yes, sir.’
‘What about you, Cally?’
‘The whole harvest?’
‘Cally-!’
‘What? Seth, that’s the whole summer -!’
‘With three full meals and a bed to sleep in, if you want it, lad. You too, Seth. Now what do you say? Should the Missus come out and see the two of you and that carrot you’ve got in your pocket Cally Boison, or is it dinner?’