Posted in Chutzpah


He was good to watch – scary for the successor
precision and anticipation
fast when speed was needed
patient when stress bullied in
a burst of laughter afterwards – always.

Born Peter
but Pete to everybody.
After he left, after they knew he had gone
all the sales rep’s were still disappointed
“ Pete left?” – as if popularity could reinstate.
The receptionists who phoned on their behalf, sighing –
sad to learn he was gone – wistful.
He had names for them all
Gorgeous, Sweetie, Tootsie, Buttons – they loved it.
It was the 1990’s – the rules didn’t apply to Pete.

For five days he was the sorcerer,
then I inherit all.
When the door of his reign closed
I felt slow and inadequate – unable to fill the space
not personality
mine was XXS – that was always known -the output.

For the first while,
busy found me,
things to learn, and become proficient in.
People thought I had it easy
that things were more hectic for Pete: “ he was so good under pressure.”
Heat and light,
he knew how they got mistaken.



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.