...

Push, push, glide. Push, push, glide.
Floating over the concrete, wheels clicking and clacking underneath my
board as I went over the sidewalk cracks, no place to go, nothing to do.
I'd check out my reflection in the store windows on Grand River
Avenue as I passed, a skinny kid in an old worn out brown leather
jacket, blue flannel shirt flapping in the breeze, tied to my waist. My
modified Mohawk was hiding beneath a painter's cap with the bill
flipped up. Wild black and white print shorts that went down to my
shins and a Punk Rock t-shirt peeking out from behind the
several-sizes-too big brown leather my dad had bought in Spain during
the late 60's.
That jacket would probably fit perfectly now. The skinny kid in the
store windows is twenty years older, balder and thicker through the
shoulders and abdomen. I still have that skateboard sitting in my
garage, partially torn apart—the kingpin bushing so rusted that it
refuses to budge. The green Chris Miller board splintered and cracked,
remnants of stickers on the bottom and band names scribbled in marker on
the grip tape.
I'd stop off at one of the parking garage and sprint up the stairs,
catching my breath as I stared down unto the campus four or five stories
down. Buildings rose up through the trees and the sidewalks and roads
were perfectly lit, extending out in every direction. I'd turn and
smack the board down and start to slalom right to left to try to ward
off speed wobbles as I picked up speed. The first corner would be nice
and easy, but each successive one would come faster and faster. Once in
the parking ramp, levels above and below you, the sound of the wheels
would echo off the walls, sounding like a dull roar, but building as
your speed increased.
By the time I got closer to the bottom, I was arcing and carving from
wall to wall, just to try to keep my speed a little more manageable, but
the bottom levels were usually full of cars. The turns got tighter, the
wheels would bark as I forced a turn, I'd miss the parked cars by a
few inches, building speed and going straight down the last couple of
levels until the ramp finally spit me out onto the street.
I spent countless hours on the board, all alone, crisscrossing the
campus and the city just to the north. Drunk or sober, cold or hot,
just as long as the sidewalk was dry, I'd head out into the night to
try to find myself. Somewhere along the way, I'd forget everything,
just a boy on a board, just the pushing and gliding, nothing else.
Moments of clarity under the campus streetlights, creamy concrete or
slick black asphalt under my wheels, the place seemed deserted as I flew
by in the dead of the night. The back alleys of town smelled of grease,
beer and puke, as I headed north toward the high school. M.A.C. Ave.
was lined on either side with frats and sororities, but they had all
passed out hours before, but the heads would be hanging out in front of
the co-ops, passing a "j" as I rolled past, they'd yell out to me
in the darkness.
I would cruise down Burcham Street's freshly paved goodness, four
empty lanes downhill when you're going eastbound toward Park Lake.
Then Park Lake had two hills, roughly half a mile apart, t-boned by
Burcham at the nadir, one lonely light blinking yellow endlessly. Park
Lake was also a four lane at the time, you could pick either hill and
fly down one and go up the other and turn around and do it all again.
You would see the headlights from cars behind you on the hill in front
of you as they crested and headed down toward you, giving you enough
time to move over into the opposite lanes, but then you would see lights
come over the hill in front of you, so you'd hug the center lane.
Everyone drove that stretch with their brights on, doing about 45 mph,
so it was a little dangerous and stupid to be skating there, but
that's also what made it fun.
So much has changed since then, Burcham no longer stops at Park Lake,
there are two or three whole new subdivisions past there now. Burcham
and Park Lake are both two-lane roads, with a turn lane and bike lanes.
Some traffic engineer for the state had decided that fewer lanes would
reduce speed or traffic volume or something like that. All it actually
did was displace traffic onto other roads in the area and through the
neighborhoods.
And me, I sit maybe a half a mile from that intersection, drinking my
PBR and watching bad television. I've been on campus maybe a
half-dozen times in the last five years. I did start riding my bike to
and from work this summer, so maybe I'll make more frequent forays
onto campus. But that feeling--the clarity of mind,
living-in-the-moment, the absolute joy of just BEING . . . I miss that
more than anything.
I've had my eyes on a new set of Sector 9 wheels—the big fat juicy
longboard ones—I'm gonna slap them on my old fish shape board or
gonna get the biggest OMA board I can get my hands on. I'm gonna
cruise and carve. In the street. At the park. In the bike lane. I
might not bomb Park Lake at night like I used to, that was a little
reckless. But I've got to get my mojo back, gotta take control of my
life back.
I've got the shaved head-cuz-I'm-going-bald thing going on. Got
the salt and pepper goatee cuz I'm too lazy to shave thing. Still buy
Punk Rock t-shirts because the music still speaks to me, even years
later, even after three kids. Still wear my pants and shorts baggy so I
can skate (??). So I might as well skate.
Just to forget everything, just a dude on a board, just the pushing and
gliding, nothing else.
Push, push, glide. Push, push, glide.

plumbing

Water dripping from the floor below the kitchen,
Lost amidst all the rain water coming into the basement,
Tiles and sub-flooring spongy and wet,
Shelf beneath the sink starting to warp,
Gave in and went to the big box store,
Staring at bags of PVC parts and connectors,
Bought way more than what was needed,
Took my time and did it slowly,
Measuring as I went, reassessing the situation,
Removed the garbage disposal,
Found the tool under some rags,
Came off after a quarter turn,
Fought with the drain assembly for awhile,
Finally fell off barely missing my face,
Went back to store number two,
Always missing some crucial part,
Measured and cut, glued and tightened,
Teflon tape on all the threads,
Pipe dope on my hands, a bit too hard,
Sat too long on a shelf somewhere,
Turned the water on after awhile,
Somehow everything seemed to work,
No leaks, left a bucket just in case,
Seemed too easy, maybe I missed a step,
Always wait too long, waste so much time worrying,
Just need to do and take care of what’s at hand,
Householder neglecting his primary duty,
Busy daydreaming about what he lacks,
When all along it was right within reach.

heart melts

Woke up late again, too tired from the night before,
Uneasy sleep filled with dreams of deadlines,
Tethers and warrants, responsibilities falling through,
Hopped on the bike and pedaled hard,
Down to the corner to wait for the bus,
Throw it up on the rack and have a seat,
Another short ride at the other end,
Through the downtown “no wheel zone,”
Across the highway bridge and downhill,
Zooming past the pawn shops and diner,
Across the railroad tracks and onto the grass,
Wheeling it in right at 07:00,
Walking in as third shift walks out,
Dirt and water on my brand new tires,
Barely out of breath, getting my legs,
Looking forward to the long ride home,
Even before the stress of work has begun,
Barreling down the river walk,
Avoiding walkers and joggers,
Past the utility yard, past the zoo,
River to one side, trees on the other,
Onward to the university, empty during summer,
Alternating between the road and bike trails,
Following the river all the way back to Hagadorn,
Six miles or so from work, an hour by bus,
Cut that time in half on my bike,
Trusty metal steed, flying by the Red Cedar River,
I imagine the Ojibwe once sliced through these waters,
In their birchbark canoes, portaging when needed,
But now they’re long gone, moved to GR,
Left the place to lawmakers and students,
The Red Cedar runs into the Grand River then travels to the lake,
Meandering slowly through the west side of the state,
Emptying into Lake Michigan, a two hour drive to the west,
The Ojibwe followed, merged with groups along the way,
GR, Manistee, Gun Lake, various groups and bands,
I make my way to the road named after the Grand,
Follow it eastward to my neighborhood,
Student rentals dot the outer fringes,
Then give way to family homes,
Cape cods, ranches and quad-levels,
Post-war houses built for university employees,
Not as fancy as ones to the north or west,
The ones built by doctors, lawyers and profs,
Big yards filled with flowers and gardens,
I glide into my driveway and come to a stop,
Shirt drenched with sweat, standing under the huge maple,
The entire backyard is blanketed in shade,
Feels a few degrees cooler than on the street,
Time stands still, birds singing in the trees,
Cicadas humming a few streets over,
Weightless for a moment, unfettered and free,
E climbs through the broken window screen,
“Hey daddy, wassup?”
Big smile across his face,
Dimples at the corner of his mouth,
Heart melts as he gives me a hug.

razor's edge

No big plans, no one to impress,
Looking forward to the simple things,
No grand illusions, no more stress,
So much out of my control,
Need to leave it all alone,
Wasting energy trying to fix everything,
Have to accept some things are beyond me,
All these moments destined to pass,
Good or bad or indifferent,
I remember the peaks and lows,
Ignore the everyday middle ground,
Need to refocus my attention,
Work on myself and let the rest be,
So much that I can or should do,
Scale it back, pull it in,
Work on what’s right here right now,
Take car of my own home,
So much disorder right now,
Issues and concerns from wherever,
No longer anything I need to deal with,
So much time and energy on the outside,
So little has changed on the inside,
And so here I am again at square one,
Simple pleasures and simple wants,
Moment by moment into my tomorrows,
However many are destined to be mine,
Empty words and empty notions,
Bouncing around me like errant waves,
I shall do what I can, promise no more,
Expect nothing from anyone else,
Always asked for way too much,
In no hurry to get anywhere,
Right where I need to be,
One foot in front of the other,
Step after step, walking meditation,
Waking mediation everyday,
Walking along the razor’s edge,
Balanced betwixt and between,
Living this life and nothing more.

hs reunion

Older and wider, took me a minute to recognize,
Some familiar faces on different bodies,
Twenty-some years but so far removed,
Don’t regret not going to the reunion,
Just surreal the way life has slipped by,
We were all just kids, seems like yesterday,
Second or third grade, then the rough middle years,
The high school years quickly after that,
Most of my time spent alone,
But not all that lonely just doing my thing,
Looked forward to the day I would leave,
Hated that rusty old town, under heavy grey skies,
Don’t miss it at all, miss a few people I guess,
But feel like I missed my opportunities,
Somehow slept through the best parts,
Sleep-walking through my life wishing for whatever,
Now realize so much has slipped away,
Wanted so much to speed up the time,
Long dreary days of nothing lay ahead,
But now they’re all behind me just like that,
Wish I had played more guitar for one thing,
Wish I had spent more time on myself,
Wish I had tried the writing thing,
Just to silence the what-ifs in my head,
Wish I had lived and seen a little more,
Kept jumping from one addiction to another,
Just to dull the pain, to quiet my fears,
What is it exactly that I’m trying to escape,
Wanted so badly to live my own life,
Took a few turns, kept taking the long way,
Short-circuited my own brain chemistry,
Destroyed my life, just to spite myself,
Not really all that serious, sounds so extreme,
All the good stuff still came along,
Three beautiful children, better upbringing then me,
Just want them to pursue their dreams,
At least live a life without regret,
Maybe I never tried because I was afraid to fail,
But I failed to try, leaving so much unanswered,
Should have failed and just moved on,
Growing and changing as the days fell away,
Reality sets in far too quickly, youth long wasted,
I did all the things I swore I would never do,
Searching for the answers, I asked the wrong questions,
Always going to extremes, living on the fringes,
But my days will certainly come to an end,
Just like everyone else, never ever to return,
Not in this same body, not with this same face,
Just want to go into the nothingness with no regrets,
An infinity in the void, a mere moment on this earth,
What can I say, what will I think looking back,
At the moment of death, at the end of my days,
Will I say I gave it my best, will I say I wasted it away?

hospital

I just remembered something I had hoped to forget,
A living nightmare of my own creation,
Also known by some as my life,
A sordid story about despair,
An endless loop of unknown cause,
But that’s just one more thing I’m hiding,
Just really don’t quite feel like dealing.
So I went under and almost made my exit,
Tripped half way over to the other side,
Stumbled back over, guess I changed my mind,
Muffled voices in and out of my hospital room,
White corridors and wheels on the shiny floors,
How are you feeling and other stupid questions,
Given the circumstances, I guess I’m alright.
Dude what the hell happened, I’ll play along,
Not really sure, don’t quite remember,
Head’s still in a fog, voices sound so strange,
Well I guess you had a seizure,
Well I guess my body was just smarter than the brain,
Can barely put two thoughts together,
Same old story keeps running through like a train.
Can’t really seem to focus, will this feeling go away,
How sad for everyone if this is how I end my days,
Endless looping on into infinity,
Single story without end,
Daddy fried his brain one night,
Just for something to do,
Who are those people sitting with you?
Oh, you see them, too,
Thought they were a figment,
But I guess they’re here to watch me,
Make sure I don’t hurt myself,
Not a bad gig for a student,
Just sitting around doing nothing,
Just call the nurse if the patient gets rowdy.
I chatted with this doc and another,
Ended up going to St. Lawrence for a spell,
They told me they had no choice in the matter,
Got picked up by an ambulance and all,
Thought about making a run for it but had no shoes,
So tried sleeping with the other wackos,
Didn’t trust a single one, was ready to fight.
They feed you pretty good,
If you like American food,
Also gave me a nicotine patch,
And got to chill with the other guests,
Felt like I was in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,”
Trying so hard to look, act and sound normal,
Didn’t want to become a permanent resident.
I remember those three days were beautiful,
Outside the sun was shining and looked warm,
Stuck inside in too-cold air conditioning,
Wanted to go skate like nothing else,
Wanted to see my babies and hold them,
So sorry for what I’d done,
So very sick of myself.

living nightmare (lack of sleep)

Slipping down the corridors of time,
Souls sealed within blackened walls,
Translucent and electric, crackling in the dim light,
Fates withered to shadow beings,
The mad tumult of emotions and thoughts,
Cavernous arenas of the long dead,
Suffocating under the weight of regret,
Hungry ghosts longing for the glow of the sun,
Imprisoned for eternity in a hellish malaise,
Longing for release or finality but finding none,
Eternity spent living and reliving their sorry lives,
An infinite loop in an infinite cosmos,
Beyond time or memory or ideas,
Pain beyond human reckoning,
Devoid of anything corporal or material,
They’d tear themselves asunder if able,
To end the agony of the undead,
A picture show of memories broadcast overhead,
Each fixed to their own and no other,
Conscious just enough to feel others’ pain,
A flicker here and there of another’s life,
Waves of horror ripple through the throngs,
They cry for naught as nothing will change,
Not purgatory nor hell just the final stop,
For all time until space and matter end,
Ethereal luminous grave of the unknowns,
All the lies and deceits of their lives laid bare,
Running constantly through their vacant eyes,
Spirit world of the damned and damnable,
Where even the holiest of the holy dwell,
Angels and devils rolled into the latter,
Promises made but never fulfilled,
Ten billion heartbeats fill the air,
Sick and slow but none ever stops,
All wish for a final death but remain trapped,
Souls without bodies screaming without a sound,
Cursing their births and soulless lives.

...another unfinished love song...

You say I pushed you away,
Don’t doubt that’s how you feel,
But don’t remember it happening quite that way,
Not even sure how or when,
Didn’t suddenly change one day,
Not sure where to even begin,
Seems like its always been,
But nice of you to give me the blame,
Always wanted something of my own,
You’ve become like everybody else, its all the same,
Expected you to be different somehow,
Thought you were the one from the start,
But I’ve got nobody else to blame now,
So how do I go on living this lie,
Trying so hard to see this through
Please tell me why I should even try,
Long awkward silences between us,
Buffering our every exchange…

being and doing

I’ve given up on Philosophy,
I’ll confine myself to being or doing,
Anything else beyond that is useless,
The talking and the thinking just exercises,
Luxuries I can no longer afford.
My oldest son tells me he cannot run,
He knows his body and he knows himself,
To be so young and so full of knowledge,
It must be wonderful to be so full of everything,
But simply being young would be wonderful enough.
His polar opposite is the my five-year old,
The one who thinks he can be or do anything,
But he’s got me convinced that he can,
Unless it involves falling or scrapes,
Like when I tried to teach him how to skate.
Maybe the truth is squarely in the middle,
You can achieve some things but not all,
Cannot learn Kung Fu simply by watching a movie,
But could learn the rudiments given time,
No such thing as a natural at anything.
Time and experience the only true teachers,
Learn as you go and grow,
But to not even try seems so severe,
Worse than thinking you know it all,
Or know much more than you actually do.
In the heady days of childhood,
We think we can all be superstars,
Buy into the myth of the supernatural,
Not realizing that we are born limited,
By genetics and experience.
To travel down the road of actually trying,
Exposes us to the fact that we will fall short,
Just supramundane in every way,
Just another dreamer lost in the clouds,
Wishing for that which will never be.
Is it a greater crime to never try,
Than to be less than great at whatever,
Who do we really measure ourselves against,
The unreachable one percent or less,
Or merely measure our own progress?
I’m done comparing myself to anyone else,
Just want to see what I can do,
Ultra-average at the very best,
But better than doing nothing at all,
Wishing I was this or that.
I’m done with philosophizing,
Trying to make sense of this life,
I’ll just try to be and do the best I can,
Worrying or thinking hasn’t worked too well,
So now I’ll try another route.
Happiness has always been fleeting,
But I’ve been playing by someone else’s rules,
Never seemed to measure up,
Here and now and nowhere else,
From here on in for no one but myself.

time or space

Leaning against the empty door frame,
Smoking a cigarette as I stare at the giant maple tree,
Leaning eastward toward the garage where I stand,
I take sips from a 40-ouncer, tucked away on a shelf,
Rays of light slice through small openings in the canopy,
Trash litters the dirt that once was grass,
Bone dry and shaded backyard in this college town.
Little E practices his Kung Fu moves,
The ones he learned from the animated movie,
As he kicks and hits the chair swing,
Hanging from the giant maple a few feet from me,
Clouds of dust kicked up under his feet,
Big fat bumblebees buzz by through the doorway,
As cardinals and blue jays dart from tree to tree.
What remains of the lawn is mostly weeds,
Dandelions and other broad-leafed invaders,
Moss and vines have staked their claims as well,
And sticks and small limbs from the last big storm,
Tossed helter-skelter under half-dead trees,
Thirteen of them that I can remember,
The biggest is the maple right in front of me.
The tree worries me because of its size,
Giant limbs cover the back of the house,
Starting to reach the roof of the garage,
One big storm could be enough,
To send it crashing into one or the other,
Both buildings are shedding shingles like crazy,
Littering the sidewalk with tiny black pebbles.
I emptied the rain gutters the other week,
Leaves and twigs and pebbles as well,
Never had that problem before this year,
But everything decided to fall apart at the same time,
Giant cracks in the gutters patched with caulk,
To try to stem the rainwater from reaching the basement,
Shows the signs of years of water damage.
What is the statute of limitations for a lie,
The previous owner lives just down the street,
Claimed ignorance to any serious problems,
But now the problem is mine and no longer his,
So typical of everything else in my life,
The smell of rotting wet matter can’t be escaped,
Black mold forming in unseen corners.
Setting my sinus cavities aflame,
Z-man coughing and weezing from just a wiff,
Who will pay for this travesty,
Where is the justice in all of this,
And to think that we fought to save the house,
Didn’t have enough sense to just walk away,
Should have just gotten an apartment.
B sticks her head through the empty screen door,
Tells us dinner is ready and to wash up,
I glance to the back of the yard,
Another hundred and forty or so feet,
More than enough room to raise a family,
Plenty of privacy and space for the kids,
Some burdens are heavy but still worthwhile.
Just couldn’t imagine having to share space,
Sandwiched between noisy and unruly neighbors,
The stillness of the yard brings me peace,
Even though there is always more to do,
Never done picking up after the kids or trees,
But the noise is our own as is the silence,
And no one usurps our time or space.