Wednesday, February 3, 2016


The normal nomenclature of waiting is
what we pay off in the end. At this
corner, by the light that blinks, is
Henley's old hardware store. More of
a gift shop than anything now, even the
paint cans are sold as decorative items
to enhance a home or shelf. Old man
Henley himself, having died back in '09,
is just a son's memory now. A cad named
Jeff, he knows not much about anything.
I would bet he probably more wanted to
be a banker than this : handling paint-color
chips to ward off old matrons who want
their bedrooms the color of their husband's
last flush  -  'the face was flush, in our moments
together in ecstasy prime; oh, when we were 
young.' Such gibberish, and these women go on. 
Then in come their daughters  -  'now that's not 
so bad, still  doable, yes, and a desire to be had.'
Henley, oh Henley, I'll have to think about that, 
though I know what you mean. Do you sell a
mirror that still holds the image? Can you bring
back the past old days in those trash cans that
you sell? They look good when new, but oh
so quickly battered as they age.

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