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Saturday Poetry: Friday He Retired

from "Turn Left at the Dead Dog":

Monday Frank wore his good luck plaid.

Tuesday he cried.

Wednesday the doctors said

Thursday they’d try.

Friday he retired.

Saturday she died.

Adventures in Negritude

I made it back In One Piece which is always a surprise to me.  Although I would rather have a root canal rather than go through US Customs in Miami.  (This, you will learn is a recurring theme -- preferring having teeth pulled than to be put upon by husbands, governments and small furry animals who throw up to register their displeasure with your company).  All major airports look the same -- sky malls -- where the only differences are the principal language that the security speaks, the currency and the amount of walking (with baggage) you'll have to do to catch a flight.  For some reason I like DeGaulle but not Miami (although there is a fantastic exhibit of Dina Knapp's work that I got to see 3 times coming and going).  In DeGaulle having made the mistake of wrapping my head I got addressed in French as if I was trying to sneak into that godforsaken country from Cote D'Ivoire or somethin'.  Why would I do that?  Those people, the French, cook with butter for chrissakes.  Anyway, Miami International is about as large as the continental United States (I kid you not) and you walk and escalate and climb and train and walk until your toes bleed and then come to the cattle chute that is US Customs to stand in line until you get asked some inane gotcha question like:  How's South Carolina these days?  (How would I know?  I haven't been there in years.)  or "Heading back to New York?"  (You read my ticket but not my mind?  Don't you know that I Don't Live in New York City Any More and That the Last Leg of This Seventeen Hour Journey [if you will let me catch my damn plane] Is Sweet Lil Old New Haven?  [eye roll]).

This fondness for brackets, parentheses and run-on sentences must have something to do with Calculus, but I digress, ....  I did, of course, make it back to New Haven which was thankfully not covered in 20 feet of snow, only to be rather gingerly asked, "Didya have a good time?"  Yeah, I growled, now leave me the fck alone ....

Got those re-entry blues:  I was in Nicaragua long enough for my blood to thin (when it wasn't boiling recalling what this country did to that country for decades) and my skin to get black.  Still unpacking what I saw and experienced.  To be continued.