Cloudy Skies and Heart Pains

Greetings from the Hill
68/78 Cloudy NW5/10 0656/1737 60%H

Late in bed with closed windows and strange dreams,
ringing ears, weak legs and heart pains already,
another day of recuperating from stress and excess,
that odd couple who can reverse roles with guilt.

"Hey, oldman, start taking care of yourself,
you want to live to this election, watching it on TV,
remember the first one," being nice was not normal
for the madone, the oldman wobbled to his spot
and thought....it was summer vacation in1948,
Uncle Frank had arranged a surprise at Uncle Eddies'
beach house in Erie on the Lake..."For Jackie."
The Democratic Convention on TV from Philadelphia,
President Truman in his snappy white suit at midnight,
everyone asleep but an eight yearold, then Sunday night,
'The Toast of The Town', the Ed Sullivan show.

The street was quiet, a brief period without renovaters
and their trucks and tools and fools, peace on the Hill,
could one hope that the speculaters might stop....

"Well, what do you think about that," the oldman talking
to the only child in the back seat of his new burgandy Ford,
"Not the politics nor entertainment, the idea of 'it'..."
once again that mysterious 'it' confused the kids' mind.
Harry surprised the country narrowly dispatching Dewey
and the first television set in town arrived for the election,
Buffalo, Rochester and Syracuse, the three networks,
and the whole wide world of advertising....
Life seemed simpler in black and white westerns,
The Show of Shows, Gillettes' Friday Night Fights,
that always faded out before the knockdown,
simpler times before the next dimension.

"We Like Ike", the convention in color, 'it' was different
and the General would build freeways.

Memories, memories, all an oldfart has, a body crippled
with abuse, neglect and lack of love, struggling downstairs
to feed the pets on the porch and sweep the floors,
water the plants and inventory the damage report.

The west side was quite an accomplishment and looked
as natural as in1875 before painting, historical integrity
according to Bill, original pinus elliotti densa, rather extinct,
"My, my, what does that make the house, a museum piece,"
mocked the madone, "And what about those boards,
swampwood decking at an Andrew Jackson each."

Last year at this time the balcony flooring was finished and
Master Eduardo, carpenter extrodonaire was working
on the porch while Bill was cutting and planing the porch
beams and joists, the partner was getting involved...
soon a lathe would arrive and Warren the wood turner
would improve the attitude of the impetuous one.

The oldman hobbled into the street testing his skinny legs,
taking a last walk while he was able....
the Internet Bride smiled at the door with Fang,
the catkilling Shitzer who had already killed
two cats from Love Lane, the indianwoman put
them in Bills' stew and he praised the taste,
of course they were fed with dinner scraps.

A few more days and the long weekend would end,
"A month of weekends," snorts the madone
preferring to be miserable alone, a nasty halfbreed.

The oldman belched and looked at the greengrowth,
vines burgeoning, flowers blossoming, monkey bars
covered with Love Vine, the scaffolding of course
that was erected during the Iraqi War before
the subprime crisis and home foreclosures,
the week after the oldman was judged homeless.

"That was cruel and subversive, a plot to get the oldman
off the lot..", growled the madone knowing the scam,
red tagged and condemned for affordable housing,
cut off the income and force the landlord out
and under a boat, into the mangroves, on the beach,
better the golfcourse than the Homeless Shelter,
not an offered bed let alone a free dinner fed.

Thanksgiving and Christmas not allowed at home,
an unrelenting judge until the balcony safe,
"I don't want someone drunk falling over."

Seasons changed and the oldman returned
for perhaps his final, in this old house.

"Hey, oldman ...put a plug in all that shit,
what is over is over, holding grudges is foolthought
mentality of petty minds without an original idea,
tomorrow is always different, let it flow, Joe."



Blue skies and beautiful,
a norhwest breeze in the Keys.

In these Isles of Eternal Sun
above the Florida Horn.



Have a nice day...Eh.