Ode to Bob

The tropical heat percolated on the small of her back, It was the early 60s, in Trenchtown.   The flies bothered them only in the morning, In the night, they clung to the ceiling and watched them make love.   His dreadlocks the color of…

The jig was always up

Fiddle music someone playing a jig or dancing one I think of my grandfather immigrant Gramps, Norwegian as they came would dance a jig of celebration; in front of the TV following a home team victory in the aisles of the ballpark after a home…

Vagabonded

Fourteen-stories of hotel towered over downtown Minneapolis; the massive pine by our back drive stretched nearly to the tenth the bottom boughs canopied out, branches looping upward, forming a cozy, sweet-smelling cave we rented out rooms, not the tree still, guests were often staying ┬áthere…

Prompt 11 – For Me

Home is a place that has never Existed for me A wanderer, a vagrant, Aimlessly drifting From Laos to Italy And though Home Has never been a label I’ve ever applied In these blue, twinkling eyes, You should see The world’s my oyster All for…