Posted in Unexpected


He was the very best friend
infinitely kind
endlessly patient
the sort every first home owner
and IT dunce needs.
Able to replace borer rotten wood
and bugs of the cyber type
would work all day
for dinner and dessert – cooking not his forte.

seemingly confined to perennial bachelorhood
not so much unlucky in love
as luck not interested in love.
He loved women
women liked him
solid and reliable
no electricity an unrequited said.

shapes and forms
to rules applauded by the curve
but known only to chance itself.
At the end of an eternal wait
the girl from almost next door.
Can he bring her to meet us?
Sure is delighted.

Late thirties
slightly rumpled
slightly overweight
sensible hair
boarding school skirt
and nasty. Venomous.



Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.

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