odd walking thoughts – the thinking of it

A grizzled man sits at a pub. His beer is warm. He watches a man standing near him. He wants to know why a man would stand at a bar. You sit, he thinks, and you misery yourself. The man standing notices he is being observed. He says, ‘How’s your night going?’ The sitting man tries to speak but his throat was yet to be unclogged with the mucus built at the back of the tongue. Instead of a reply he nodded silently. ‘Your beer is almost gone. Want another?’ The sitting man pushed away anger at the thought of a free beer from a man who would stand at at bar. Finally, mucus gone below, he speaks this, ‘Why are you standing at a bar. Why not sit, relax?’ The standing man replied, ‘I was sitting. I thought about standing. Up I stood, so I would be done with the thinking of it. Just as I did when I asked how your night was. And then to offer another round. So when you take your first taste, I’ll be walking out the door, having left you behind.’

-M. Taggart

The Last Days of Summer

A memory of our grandfather working in the garden
sitting, not kneeling, his knees were too far gone-
us running in the back yard drinking from the garden hose
helping our grandfather whenever he waved us over

Summer was swimming in the pool and holding our breath under water
while lying on our backs on the bottom of the pool-
letting the air out of our lungs slowly and watching the bubbles
rise to the surface

Us- under water, eyes open, bubble surveyors of life
with wide smiles, even our eyes smiled, without hesitation-
All the while our grandfather worked in his garden-
And when it was time to get out of the pool, our grandmother
called to us. With love, standing on the deck of the pool,
every time one of our little heads broke the surface.

The last days of summer are us waving goodbye to our grandparents
They became smaller the further away we drove
At night the cold air reminded us that Fall was coming, but-
there were still a few more hot summer days to come
along with the realization that nothing is ever really over-
and we are never truly gone even when we say goodbye

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts – Eat Silent Words

If we think hard enough to swallow our words
Could we never eat our thoughts again
And if we didn’t need to eat them at all
Would we have ever known any thoughts to have created our words
Our ears then become silenced and we muffle our cry because that too is gone
Now we’re alone in the blackness and we wave our hands in front of our face – nothing.