It All Comes Out In the Wash
The universe loves to lay bets on a seesaw. Watch for it the next time a bird takes a flying dump on a pedestrian’s head, and you laugh. Yours is coming when you least expect it. Splatter. The clock turns, and we start all over again.
Kicking Dandelions
Nothing is quite like the sound of a woodpecker. Peck, peck, peck. Horns honk in unmoving traffic. Jimmy chews his gum in rhythm with the off-center clock in the corner of Math class. The last water on Earth is a kiddie pool.
A Panoply of Randomness
Late at night, dreams intersect. A caterpillar inches up a leaf. A dew drop forms on your front lawn. We are all one second from failure.
The Stories We Tell Ourselves
I once rubbed poison ivy all over my body at summer day camp because the girl I liked said the plant in question was not poison ivy. She was smart, and I showed up the next day with Calamine lotion all over my body. Side note: I love the smell of Calamine lotion. I once slept over at her house, in a bunk bed, when I was less than ten. I can see the room. I have a photo of her and me on the beach. It’s sweet. I believe this story to be accurate, but I worry about what happens when it fades.
What’s In a Name
Jonathan Greene. Lame. Jonnie. Jon. Lame. Why couldn’t I have been Jox Hundred? What were they thinking? And what was I thinking when I named my kids? Basic. I am so basic. What’s in a name? Do you want to be rescued in a superhero movie by Zee Thousand or Jon Greene? No contest.
Carrying a Heavy Sack Across the Desert
If I were carrying a heavy sack across the desert, I would probably lay it down somewhere and try to rest. I am 55 now, and I don’t have the physical fortitude that I used to. I’m someone’s aging dad who can pass for 42, with a body that feels like 61. Some mornings, I wake up feeling like a million bucks. Other mornings, I consult my Health chat to make sure I’m not dying. We are all dying.
Dump Truck
Sometimes it feels like a dump truck pulled into your yard while you were sunbathing and decided to unload a bed of sand onto you. You became the sandcastle. Your day became the shells washing back out to sea. The seagulls picked nits out of your hair. You submerged yourself endlessly so the dream would stop. You woke up.