A Mess

Back in my first days as a single dad
My parents came to help this divorceé
And their grandson, to try to make hearts glad
And have a true Thanksgiving holiday.

I set out to prepare the family meal
Not knowing the first thing of how to cook;
I thought pressed turkey would taste just as real
(I’d not quite mastered any cooking book)

And when they came that noon from their hotel
The house it smelt a burning foodish wreck
For nothing I had done had turned out well
And autumn magic had turned into dreck

My father, who could eat, well, anything
Suggested, gently, maybe the hotel
Buffet would be a festive kind of thing
My mom, she smiled and said “It’s just as well.”

As sorry as my cooking, I was done.
What kind of single father would I be
If I could not prepare food for my son
Now that our lives would be just him and me?

But as we entered into the hotel
My son’s eyes shone with all its lavishness;
And I was thankful. In truth, all was well —
Ironic that
A group meal’s called
A mess



Miracle Walk

Does she believe in miracles?
I think she’d say she does
For she knows just how far she’s come
From out of ‘what there was’

The girl who once took make-believe
Into her adult life
Pretending to have everything
A boss, mother and wife

Till Autumn stripped away pretense
As leaves fall to the ground
And everything she thought she had
Came swiftly falling down

And left her needing miracles.
She emerged from the rough
To find that who she really was
Was really
Good enough

Why He Has An Ex-Wife

Looking Out

She told him, “Real men don’t get sick”
He said, “That’s ludicrous.”
She said, “You’d better get well quick.”
He shrugged, “That’s dubious.”

She told him, “I know you are fine.”
“And just how, may I ask?”
She said, “You’re too young to decline.”
Then he said, “Kiss my ass.

I didn’t ask to be like this
It’s not what I had planned –
It isn’t something I enjoy
It’s something I can’t stand.

I know for now, that all of this
Is what I must go through:
I’m sick because I am, and now
On top, I’m sick of you.”