Blue

I remember shades of blue
sky upon water
surreal cerulean
that would not fade for season
or reason

in a land where dreams were born
and died
a place of quiet spirituality
and great unrest
in a tangle of contradiction
a fiction

of a reality unrealized
but for the blue

Separate the man from the setting
concrete and steel
languishing landscape
that does not change for reason
or season

in a land where dreams are reborn
and try
to reclaim what drifted down
a dry well
where hope springs
from broken wings

looking ever skyward
for the blue

It Was Nice…

… while I lasted. As good as it is to have three day off, it is really too short. It seems to have highlighted the need for a REAL vacation. I look forward to the end of June when David and I are off for a week – a whole honest-to-goodness week.

Oy… I am so not ready for tomorrow. Oh well, so it goes…

Put the coffeemaker on the timer and put the Tums in my briefcase – and so begins another work week.

Halle-Frekin-Holiday-Weekend-Lujah!

We made it…

That’s a picture of me and my co-workers standing out in the oppressive heat shedding nary a bead of perspiration. We are cool with the fact that at noon today we shut and locked the doors for business until Tuesday morning.

That’s Millicent to my right. I couldn’t resist beaning her with the flagpole after how much she pissed me off this week. On my left is Barbie. She is the one they created that blond joke about – you know the one: “Two blondes walk into a building… you would have thought one would see it...” That’s Margie gazing skyward over my left shoulder. Poor dear… she is permanently stuck in that position and always has that look on her face. We are taking up a collection… Behind Margie is Dana… we’re still accepting bets on its gender. Over my right shoulder is Eleanor, holding her charming daughter Eleanor Jr. That’s her husband, Gus, all the way in the back yelling “Where’s my beer, bitch?” He’s always good for a laugh and a lot of fun, Gus. The rest are people just caught up in the moment who decided to join our little impromptu celebration.

You might wonder "Why the banner of the Queen?" How many times do I have to tell you about Wilton Manors? The lady over in England is a wannabee… the real queens live here.

If you are fortunate enough to have a Holiday weekend, may it be as festive as the so-happy-they-are-downright-gay folk of my little town (part III).