Sunday Scribblings: Instinct

"Little Deuce Coupe"
is blasting from loudspeakers,
raining the sixties

all over the classic car meet
at Muscle Car City.
My first instinct

is to remain in our car
reading while my husband
walks around. He convinces

me I should go with him,
though. I see shiny Corvettes,
Cadillacs, GTOs, Model Ts,

a VW bus with peace signs,
and an El Camino my husband
loves. But I've have enough

of the past. So, here I sit
listening to Chubby Checker
twisting again like he did

last summer. I see my husband's
yellow cap stuck under a hood.
I'm typing away in the present.

3WW: Dignity, Lacerate, Ripe

Trees

Leaves
ripe as apples

Vines
cling like a child

Bark
a coat of dignity

Branches
pray

My husband
was a logger

He'd pull
the cord

on his
chainsaw

and lacerate
one by one

Saplings
smiled

lifting
their faces

to the naked
sun.

NaPoWriMo #24: Just an Observation

Addicted

His fat fingers
tap dance on the keys.

He lets his glasses slip
down onto his nose

and he peers over them
through near-sighted eyes.

He swears when he can’t find
what he’s looking for,

runs his hand through
his hair and rubs his forehead,

grunts and complains.
My husband is searching

for Harley parts
on ebay.

NaPoWriMo #24: Unlikely Couples

The Fisherman and the Poet

Tuna were jumping
as we sped
across the ocean

to his favorite
fishing spot.
Once we were anchored,

he set his fishing
lines and I took
my notebook

and pen out.
The sun rolled
over me and settled

in the bottom
of the boat.
It was going

to be a peaceful
day. I started
writing then heard

a zipping sound.
“Tuna!” my husband
yelled. I jumped

up and did what
I could to help
him pull in

a 300 pound tuna
imagining the words
I’d use to capture

this incredible feat.
He sold the tuna
but I caught it on paper.

3WW: Capture, Jinx, Qualify

I don’t want to jinx
the capture of his tuna.
I qualify words.
MY HUSBAND HAS A TUNA ON HIS LINE
Must qualify words
so he’ll capture his tuna
without being jinxed.



Update: 9 PM

He got it! It took 7 1/2 hours but he finally got the tuna on the boat. He thinks it weighs between 600-800 lbs. That's a big one! I'm off to meet him at the dock to take some pictures.

















Talking about it didn't jinx him. Phew!

NaPoWriMo Day 28: Red

He’s been working
on his new motorcycle
in the cellar
for months, now.

This one started
as old Harley parts
that were just begging
to be assembled.

And that’s what
he’s been doing
one puzzle piece
at a time,

sanding and bending
and swearing
and slowly
it began

to look like
a real motorcycle,
a 1952 panhead.
A couple days ago

I asked him
to help me
fix my Xyron
sticker machine.

He examined it,
got a perplexed look
on his face,
said he was sorry,

and gave it back to me.
Then he went outside,
got his tools out and adjusted

the points on his bike.

NaPoWriMo Day 14: Car

I started one about the old Rambler once before but it didn't go anywhere so I decided to redo it for this prompt.
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The old Rambler
my boyfriend had
was unique:
the front seat
reclined to meet
the back seat
resulting in a queen-
size-bed
open space.

It was great
for going
to the drive-in.
We’d sit way
in the back
with a quilt
over us.

And parking?
All our friends
were jealous.

So, I have
no idea
how footprints
got on the ceiling.
And when his mom
asked him
about them,
he made up
some story
about having
to hunt
for something
under the seat.

But, his red face,
as red as the Rambler,
gave it away.

His parents sold
it soon afterwards,
replacing it
with a Volkswagen
bug.

Varied, Knack, Crush for 3WW and Naisaiku

Crushed pineapple, rum,
ice, and a splash of OJ.
Blend. Cures varied ills.
MY HUSBAND HAS A KNACK FOR GOOD DRINKS
Blend to cure varied ills:
ice, a splash of OJ,
crushed pineapple, rum.

Trust for Sunday Scribblings

The sun was busy
making sharp shadows
on the early evening
mountains

when Gary suggested
we fly to Martha’s Vineyard
for a couple nights
of R&R.

I packed quickly
and we were airborne
in an hour, he piloting,
me awed

by the Monoply houses,
Hot Wheels vehicles,
and ant people
below.

Suddenly, with about
a half hour to go,
the land disappeared
into gauze

and we were alone,
hanging like a falling leaf
in the middle
of the foggy sky.

I suggested we turn around
but Gary said not to worry;
he knew what to do.
I freaked, anyway.

To calm me down,
he gave me the job
of looking out
for the lights

of the airport.
There was just the sound
of the engine,
and the thick gray

swirling around us.
I imagined us crashing
into the ocean or
the land.

Gray, gray, gray
then…ghostly glows.
Lights! We were right
on course.

We landed. They closed
the airport. Since then
I’ve flown miles
of skies

with him, through storms
through blue, through night.
Trust looks like a leaf
landing gently

and safely
onto the soft
floor
of the earth.

Art for Sunday Scribblings

His skid road
is frozen now
so I decided
to take a walk
in the woods.

About a mile in
I saw him
getting ready
to cut a tree down.

First he backed
the skidder up
to within a few feet
of the pine tree,
climbed off,
and did a little dance
around the tree
to tamp the snow
down.

Then he wrapped
a thick cable
around the base
about three feet up.

He had to use
an extender
because this tree
was so big.

A quiet moment
followed.
His glance slid
all the way up
contemplating
the direction
of the fall.

Then he grabbed
his chainsaw
and took a notch
out of the fall side
of the tree,

made his way around
and sawed straight in
opposite the notch,

until the pine
started to tip,
rip, groan, snap,
crash, fall.

After repeating this
procedure a couple
more times,
he winched the trees
up close to the skidder
and proceeded
to skid them
out to the yard.

I followed that
grumbling monster
with a gigantic tail
out of the woods

breathing fresh air
and pine scent

thankful that we live
in an area where
trees are plentiful
and men can make
a living from the art
of tree harvesting.

Flame Darkness Wish for 3WW

Because I'm on vacation, I was able to check the three words nice and early. Unfortunately, what I saw was Thom's rough draft before he up and changed the words for his final draft! Too funny!
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Ricky’s Wish

Gary painted flames
on the gas tank
of Rick’s motorcycle

one fiery stroke
after another,
his hands gently

holding the brush
and the belly
of the bike

creating heat
in the darkness
of his brother’s

death. Soon
he’ll put the ashes
in the empty

right gas tank
and take Ricky
for one more ride

Expectation for TOP

I wrote this one during Journal Writing in first block this morning. The students had two prompts to choose from: "Remember an afternoon" or "A song you love." I combined the two. But, I don't think I built up expectation very well.
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Riding in the pickup
through the mosaic
of a New Hamsphire
autumn, drowsing
in the butterscotch
of heavy sunshine.

Your husband slips
a Dr. Hook CD
in the player
perking you up
and you both
start singing
to “Freakin’ at
the Freakers’ Ball”
mangling the tune
and lyrics
and laughing.

Then the doctor
bemoans the fact
that he “got stoned
and he missed it”
and you remember
your brother-in-law
who was shot to death

and how he loved that song
because it described
his life so well.
You smile, look
into the sky
of your husband’s eyes
suddenly wet

and reach over
to touch his hand
in the stained-glass
afternoon.

Day 12 and Sunday Scribblings

Writing on the weekends is hard for me. I relax and my thoughts get lazy. I'm considering this a rough draft since the ending really needs work. But, it's all I can manage right now.
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Fearless?

He’ll fly off a mountain
in a hang glider,
catch an updraft,
melt into the sky.

He’ll do hammerheads,
Immelmans, Cuban eights,
spins, and loops
in an open-cockpit
Stearman biplane,

turning the world
upside down,
blue earth
green sky.

He’ll tap dance
over waves
in his fishing boat
and pull 500 pound

tuna from the ocean
as easily as lifting a tire
out of the back
of his pickup.

But ask him to climb
a ladder to shovel
the snow off the roof
or paint a dormer window

and his feet become
bricks unable to move,
his heart a scared mouse
shivering in his chest.

The Date

"The Date" for Sunday Scribblings January 13, 2008

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I Should Have Known, Then, That He Always Gets What He Wants.

We were sliding
around on the back seat
of Tom Norcott’s parents’
car.

Tom was driving,
his girl nestled
right up next to him.

I remember our first
date, how we walked
to the movies to see
Taming of the Shrew,
but I have no idea
what we did on this
second date. Except

I felt the car sway
as we made the turn
from Hillside Avenue
onto Willow Street.

And just as gravity
pulled us toward
the right
and I braced
for impact,

you whispered
in my ear,
“I’m gonna
marry you.”

“You’re nuts!”
squeaked out
in between kisses.

I saw your smile
in the neon glow
from Bob’s Variety
Store as you claimed
my lips
my heart
my life.