Posted in Unexpected

Blind Date

Mick was the sort of uncle every family needs
relentlessly cheerful
always good for a beer
a story
a party.
Glass never half empty – “it was bloody half full”
life was to be enjoyed.
He did.

with finesse, success and zest.

He fell unexpectedly and swiftly ill
disarmingly confessing to too much
and cholesterol.
No blame
no regrets
“ drink enough water it will kill a man.”

Funeral arrangements?
A brief service
religion not necessary
a tab on the bar at the local afterwards
err… ah… um… one question
cremation or burial ?
“Surprise me.”



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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