Dennis Dubay

the cob of corn
sits on the paper plate
soaking in the margarine
that slid off the top of
the cob

steak sizzles on the grill
spitting out aromas
that the dog
pants heavily
for

like a baby
crying for the tit
of its mother

salt is slowly
dashed on to the soaking
cob of corn

lightly but poignantly

as the dog
grows more and
more impatient
at the pace from
which he is
being tortured

the sun stares down
on the ants inhabiting
the land

as they gather
for a summer dinner

(Song is “Till the Sun Turns Black by Ray LaMontange)

I used to be terrified of storms. Probably got that from my mom. When we were younger, and lived in Prescott, Michigan we had no basement to speak of. We lived in a tiny trailer with three bedrooms, a bathroom, a dining room and a living room.

Oh, yeah, and a kitchen.

We had a pig in the yard. It held the gas that provided us the fire to cook the food that dad brought home. It was also the catcher to my day dreaming of one day being a professional baseball player. I’d spend hours a day throwing at it. Bouncing baseballs, tennis balls, any type of ball I could toss at it.

Yeah, I used to be afraid of the storms. Mom would pace around the house, peeking out the windows. I think we would sit in the hallway if it got real bad.

We were basically just waiting to die.

I’m not scared of the storms any longer. I’ve come to accept my mortality in these times. It’s nice to be at peace with it. I’d hate to be afraid to die in this day and age. I mean … watch the world news for 10 minutes. It’s bleak man.

Oil spills.
Cancer.
Aids.
Gangs.
Wars.
Cars that don’t stop when you tell them to stop.
Etc.

No, i’m not afraid of storms anymore. I’m not afraid of dying either.
But I’m terrified of not living.

The day is typical in the sense that the sun rose, the flowers bloomed and the alarm clock destroyed any chance of sleeping in today. The smell of fresh coffee fills the silent room as you can hear the various footsteps throughout the house pepper the floors with sleepy flip flops we call feet.

And this is just another day.
Just like the other day.
And the day before that.

But today is still a different day. Today is a day that we’ll wish my Father a happy birthday. A day John will help Ann get through the sudden death of her mother. A day The Carter’s Saviour another few hours of time with their departing flock of Chestnut-sided Warbler’s, a day we will look back on in 3,650 days and chuckle, “has it been 10 years already”.

A continuous dance till the day we don’t dance any longer. It’s as if, as the years go buy, tomorrow becomes more like suddenly then yesterday.

This suddenly sneaks up on you fast.

A million celebrations fortify our very beings. We laugh and we cry at these special moments – birthdays, weddings, newborn babies. They justify the hardships that we will no doubt experience in our life times.

In fact, we will suffer more heartache and pain then we will joy. But it’s how we deal with the heartache that separates each of us. Some will sulk in self pity. Some will dust themselves off and ride on too the next heartache.

Life is a long good bye in many ways. But as I sat here this morning … going over the last 24 hours as I do … many think I just sit around and watch Youtube videos, drink beer and eat pizza (which, that does take up a lot of my time) I do in fact gravitate to deep thought from time to time.

And this morning I asked myself: If I could do it over, would I?

And that very question stalked me for a few hours. Every time I stopped working, I drifted off to that question. When I’m on my death bed – in the moments before I close my eyes that last time – if given the chance, would I say “can i do it over,” …

And the answer is no.

I’ve had so many great moments. So many horrible moments. So many bored moments. As you all have, as well. And when I really thought about it, the reason I would say no thanks – I don’t want to betray the times I’ve had by taking a chance to go back and do them again. Who’s to say it’d be the same.

So here I say, lets’ celebrate the day. To my Father, to Ann’s Mother, to your son or your daughter. To each and everyone of my friends and family members. We could sit hear and cry about the past, the present and the future – but it doesn’t matter.

the cracks are deeper
then they were yesterday
on this sidewalk
in front of your house

i walked it the other day
noticed ants crawling
in and out of those
cracks

trying to find some comfort
inside the dark cavernous
crack in the sidewalk

the heat is unbearable,
yesterday
today
and probably tomorrow
as well

unbearable
like hell
so hot
there is no smell

just ants marching

into the cracks
that are getting larger
on the sidewalk
in front
of your house