Ado

Ado
A dynamic so dynamic.
A torrent to perceive.
A gambit of emotions.
The years conceive.
A tear. An eye.
A heart. A sleeve.

Always prepared to give.
And reluctant to receive.


I watch the group of you.

From the outside in.
I see all of you, and all of your compassion.
I barely know where to begin.
The love. And the respect.
The quiet. And the din.
The worry. The fury. The sound advice.
The raising of the chin.

It’s the overwhelming urge to share your lives.
And the way it’s always been. 

 


It’s much ado about everything.

And that’s okay.
I see all of you, giving all that you’ve got.
On any given day.
The laughter. And the hugs.
The work. And the play.
The adamant of your honesty.
Your investment in all the way.

It’s about saying exactly what you mean.
And the meaning of what you say.


I find it exhaustively inspirational.
And extremely refreshing.
I
see all of you, lay it all out there.
With zero window dressing.
No self-preservation. And no hesitation.
No wasted words. And no second guessing.
One on one. And all for one.
When one of you is stressing.

It’s the selflessness of true friendship.
And an undisguised blessing.

 


Together when you celebrate.

 For each other if you grieve.
A gambit of emotions.
These years conceive.
Some beer. Some wine.
You share. You believe.

Always anxious to arrive.
And reluctant to leave.

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Grey


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Grey

Certainly not what I expected
when I looked anxiously to today
Distractions and detours
Delay after delay
Nothing like I had envisioned
No how.  No way.
A reluctant change of course
Navigating the grey

A wall of grey uncertainty
between you and your goal
A hard place, and a rock
w
hen you’re ready to roll
An unexpected wait
A mirage of elusive control
Asking such a small price
Just patience for your toll

Inside the grey uncertainty
t
ime stands painfully still
Between situation and explanation
Just be calm.  Just remain chill.
Between exasperation and exhaustion
Exhale, slowly, and swallow the pill
In the grey of the uncertainty
c
ome what may, inevitably will


Definitely not what I wanted
when I looked forward to tonight
Dissention and distance
Wrong versus right
Nothing like I had envisioned
On my mind. Out of sight.
The tone of grey reaction
Neither black nor white

Toiling in the grey unknown
of a lost night out
In the variable and the vague
is the unseen and the doubt
A question is the answer
When silence is a shout
Look to the big picture
Just relax, and wait it out

Inside the grey unknown
b
eing oblivious can be a roll of the dice
Between interpretation and explanation

Just be understanding. Just be nice.
Between selfish and self-preservation
Do not make the same mistake twice

In the grey of the unknown
u
npaid attention has no actual price


Trapped, within the nowhere near

of where I want my thoughts to be
Distracted and dismayed
My time feels far from free
Nothing like I had envisioned
Awaiting words. A wait and see.
The quiet of the gray
Speaks volumes to me

Staring into the grey silence
of a blank refreshed screen
Checking in after every chapter
like a procrastinating teen
Those certain expectations
The how it’s always been
Confined inside your cellular
Just swipe the slate clean

Inside that grey silence
unrealistic standards are the cage
So make the necessary adjustments
Just turn it off.  Just act your age.
Leave the drama for the characters
Leave the scenes for some stage
In the grey of the silence
you can always
turn the page


Convinced that I am ever-evolving,
I look optimistically ahead
Detraction and reaction
Saying the unsaid
As far, and as much, as I can envision
Also, and more so.  Instead of instead
Negotiating the grey
Whenever I am seeing red

Coping within the grey areas
of our everyday race
With road blocks personified
An invasion of personal space
A barrage of harsh mentality
The reality of commonplace
The simplest of solutions
Just choose dignity, and grace

In the grey of the grey areas
doom and gloom are never much fun
Between frustration and explanation
Just be positive. Be the stronger one.
Between excuses and excusing
You know what needs to be done
Even in the greyest of the grey
rose-coloured glasses will let in the sun

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More

More

You opened my eyes
when you opened your door.
I saw so much in an instant…
And then, I saw so much more.

I had this innate, satisfying sense
that you were excited that I was there.
That you had anxiously anticipated my arrival
with thoughtful touches, and extra care.

Shiny, soft, silky, sexy straight hair.
Bare shoulders, tempting my gaze.
Subtle accents to your natural beauty.
Eyes that danced, and constantly amaze.

I could see your love, in their clear honesty.
In the moment that they looked into mine.
I could taste it, on your moistened lips,
as we drank to us and sipped our wine.

Our playful innuendo, hand fitting hand.
Walking and talking, doing what we do.
Sharing an appetizer and the same wavelength.
The simple pleasures, when it’s me with you.

Yet, there was more, inside your beautiful smile.
In each expressive nuance of your lovely face.
More of something, that was strongly tangible.
I could feel it, with certainty, in every embrace.

We seemed to hold on just a little longer, and stronger.
And there was this extra warmth in your soft touch.
It seemed as though you were exuding happiness.
A pleasure in knowing that we have found so much.

The realization, that you are allowed to be happy.
That you can be yourself, and be entitled to more.
I recognized the difference, like the flip of a switch.
Aglow, in a radiant light, when you opened your door.

I already realized how much that I loved you,
and I knew of so many reasons why.
It was obvious that we were terrific together.
And I knew for sure that I was a lucky guy.

But what struck me most, on this night,
was seeing just how content that you were.
I sincerely had hoped you were as happy as I.
It felt wonderful to know it for sure.

You have opened my eyes
to how much that you appreciate me.
I see so much, through you…
And I love all that I can see.

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Deliberation


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Deliberation

It’s been a full and active day already,
with even more still on my plate.
Feeling pretty sluggish at half past ten.
Been going since this morning at eight.

Some friends I saw earlier, are visiting from Toronto.
Was planning to meet them later for drinks.
I am going to have a hot shower first,
and then I’ll see what my body thinks.

I toss my shirt and gitch in the laundry
and grab my bath towel from off the rack.
As I leave my room, I hear a faint whisper,
so I stop, I listen, and then I go back.

Scanning the room from the doorway
I can see, of course, that there’s nobody there.
Must be my phone, in the pocket of my jeans
which earlier I’d slung over the back of the chair.

I slide my cell phone out, and I take a look.
Nothing to see there but my cover screen.
No open apps, or videos playing,
so I slide it back in, to where it had been.

Turning once more to leave, I hear it again.
This time a little louder, and a little more clear.
It seems to be coming from near my bed,
and the voice I hear says, “Gary come here.”

A little less tired now, and a lot more freaked out,
I inch a little closer, and the voice speaks again.
This time adament, with much more authourity.
“Do you really need to go out? It’s well after ten.”

“Who’s there?”, I ask, speaking to no one,
looking in the direction of the pyjamas on my bed.
“Who are you, and what do you want with me?”
“I want you stay home tonight, just like I said.”

Now certain that I must be hallucinating,
I flee my room and head down the hall,
past the closet and toward the bathroom,
rocking the print that hangs on the wall.

I come face to face with myself in the mirror.
Needing a reality check, I smack my cheek.
Feeling it’s sting, I speak my thoughts aloud.
“It has been a busy day. And a very busy week.”

Still hoping that a shower might wake me up,
I hang up my towel and pull back the curtain.
Spend equal time washing, and convincing myself,
“pyjamas can’t talk, of that I am certain.”

I finish up with a cold blast of water, 
with similar results as the slap to my face.
If I am going downtown I had better hurry.
With renewed focus I pick up the pace.

Wrapped in my towel and rapt in thought,
I strategize my night while I brush my hair.
Thinking now of my best way to travel,
glasses or contacts, and what shirt to wear.

Distracted by the tasks on my mental list
and the momentum of my slight energy burst,
I find myself standing back in my room,
with a tall glass of water to quench my thirst.

After a lengthy guzzle, I reach for my jeans,
pull one pant leg up and then make it two.
As I tighten my belt I hear a different voice,
“So glad we’re going out, Gary. Good for you.”

I take a quick step back, with an audable shriek,
knock over the glass in my astounded haste.
“It’s me Gene, Hey, I’m right down here.”
The words seem to have come from below my waist.

“Good thing you didn’t listen to that guy.
He’s flat and lazy, and a complete bore.
Grab your cash and your keys.  I’ve got your cell. 
Let’s call a cab and we can wait by the door.”

“Who you calling flat? You denim deadbeat!”
My head jerks quickly in the direction of my bed.
“Ya you, Levi, with your zipper and your attitude.”
And yes, I clearly just heard what my pyjamas said.

“Always making this guy empty your pockets.
Give him a break. Your material is wearing thin.
He is a bad influence on you Gary. Take a night off.
Listen to PJ, get comfortable with me and stay in.”

“Come on lounge boy! Don’t zap his momentum.
You, with your save some money, save your liver crap.
He knows when to say when, and it ain’t now.
Not with good friends, and so many good beers on tap.”

At this point, stuck in the middle, I decide to just go with it.
I muster up some courage and I join in the debate.
“Gene, I get it, you have some some very valid points.
And PJ, I am tired, and been going non-stop since eight.”

Immersed in this, and actually needing to make a decision,
I get an idea, that gives both sides a chance.
I take off the jeans, or Gene, and I lay them/him on the bed.
I will take some time to think, and decide between pjs or pants?

“When I get back from finishing in the bathroom, I’ll choose.
You two try to get along. I’m giving myself ten minutes to decide.”
My underwear and I depart, back down the hall to brush my teeth,
both with a vested interest in selecting one side.

As I floss and weigh both of the night’s options,
I can feel the cumulative effects of all that I did today.
Yet, it would be nice to see Greg and Chrissy again.
I only saw them for a bit, and they did come all this way.

Spitting out the last swish of my mouthwash,
a realization comes over me, and suddenly I know.
I figure, if any of my clothes are speaking to me,
I obviously need some rest, so it’s wiser not to go.

I make it official, by going from contacts to glasses,
confident and pleased with the logic I choose.
Proud of myself for deciding to be responsible,
I return to my room, to deliver the news.

I can hear some murmuring and muffled obscenities.
The bickering gets louder as I walk through the door.
Once inside, however, I am met with complete silence,
fully expecting to find one of them lying on the floor.

Still side by side on the bed, are anxious jeans and pyjamas.
And you could cut the tension with a knife.
I preface my delivery with some token respect,
“I appreciate your concern fellas, but it is my life.”

“While I am seldom one to let responsibility slow me down,
I do have to learn, sometime, when I’ve had enough.
After careful deliberation, I’ve decided to stay home.
Sorry about that Gene, but if you don’t like it, tough.”

“A little harsh Gary, but I suppose it’s okay, just this once.
But I hope you don’t make it a habit to be so boring.
Because there is nothing more sad or pathetic
than a lazy ass, on a Saturday, at eleven, snoring.”

“Point taken Gene. Speaking of a little harsh.”
I toss him in the basket with the other dirty guys.
“I guess it’s you and me PJ, let’s watch some tv.”
“Good idea Gary. And you’re not boring, you are wise.”

I immediately feel comfortable as I put on the pyjamas,
adding a sweat shirt to my lack of cares.
After texting my friends to politely apologize,
I refill my water and we head down the stairs.

After flipping on a lamp, I turn on the television,
pick up a remote that had fallen on the floor.
I plop myself down into my favourite lazy boy,
which seems oddly appropriate, because of before.

“There is nothing wrong with a nice night in.
It doesn’t always have to be go, go, go.”
That was just me, justifying to myself,
wanting to make sure, that both of us know.

Finally settled, I think, I scroll through my movie choices.
“Don’t sit there. Come lie down with me. No need to slouch.”
Hearing this, I am actually more exasperated than surprised.
It’s a sexy female voice, coming from the couch.

Jump

                Jump

I clearly remember 
like it was yesterday.
You said “jump”
as plain as could be.
I stared down
as you looked up.
My one-plus year old
smiling at me.

With cautious hands
beneath your arms.
I lifted my little girl
from her little bed.
I laughed aloud
at my surprise.
“Of course you can”
was all I said.

Walking on air
to the end of the hall.
Down the stairs
to your favorite place.
Different this time
with that single word.
And the anxious look
on your one-plus face.

You seemed more eager
as I put you in.
The harness secure
under your tiny frame.
You immediately began
as I let you go.
I immediately knew
it would never be the same.

“Jump, jump, JUMP!”
as plain as could be.
Three more times
as you bounced and sat.
With no hesitation
and the proudest grin.
“Jump, jump, JUMP!”
just like that.

Astounded, I watched
and intently I listened.
My bouncing baby girl
and her happy word.
Up and down
and over and over.
The sweetest sound
that I had ever heard.

There may have been
a “mama” or a “dada”.
But nothing as perfect 
or with less doubt.
Other infant things
that infants say.
There must have been
but I’ve blocked them out.

I soaked it all in
and beamed with pride.
“She’s smart already
and athletic too!”
It occurred to me
on that glorious day.
And it’s the same now
when I think of you.

A vivid memory
about my first-born.
I tell it often
and I’m never bored.
This proud father,
who could show you now…
If he’d grabbed his camera
and pressed ‘record’.

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