Spinning Wheel

“I would like to buy your spinning wheel,” said Katie, “how much do you want for it?”

“Three hundred dollars,” said the woman.

Katie reached for her purse.

“I prefer it to be paid in cash,” she said, “it means a lot to me. I would very much like it to mean a lot to you.”

Not having cash, Katie drove several blocks to the bank and returned with the payment in full.

Years later, Katie still has the wheel and has become quite the master spinner, treasuring the wheel the started her on her way.

Along Came Poly

“I’m polyamorous,” he said, smoking his cigarette.

“Meaning?” I said.

“I love many people. I don’t know how anybody can love just one,” he said.

He exhaled and watched the smoke rise.

“My best friends is going away,” he said, “not forever, but for a long time. I hope she’ll be happy.”

We leaned against the adjacent wall.

I imagined he did know how to love just one, and did. But who am I to know anything?

Riding in the Car with Roger

We met outside church,

you sang those songs you wrote with an old country twang

Susan gave you her coat

Katie and I drove you to Ingles

We talked about God and Jesus and YouTube

You bought us cookies and Coca Cola

and then we dropped you off

outside Homeward Bound.

 

At the time we met,

you were thinking of driving out to California,

but I’m glad you’re thinking about staying.

The world needs more people like you.

Like Dandelions

The stage is set,

the audience is arriving, sitting down

We are undressing, redressing, getting into character

assuming our roles

Jim calls time and I take the stage, talk to the people

See how their day is, make them grow comfortable

Soon it’s time to go, I give the signal, we start to act

There are hula hoop performance, salsa dances,

excerpts from Joyce and Chekov

The living statue gives an erotic monologue

I sing a song, have my heart broken

and it’s all okay, all good

Tonight we’ll do it again

Then it’s curtain call,

we take a bow.

The audience cheers, we depart for the yellow room

They depart, we change

back into our normal selves, whatever that means

We talk with those who stay behind, clean up,

celebrate our victories, recap anything weird that might have happened

linger in the foyer, not wanting leaving

absorbing all the post-play magic that we can.

Then there are hugs and well wishes,

we get in our cars, we drive off

The next morning, when it’s not a theater night

A strange sense of loss consumes me

a grasping at the wind,

but theater is a moment, and eventually the place will cease its run

and all will move on

like Dandelions

The work never ends

God of life and passion and everything good,

bless my friends as they go on their way.