And Peoples Thinks We Ain't Got Culture

My note to the boys:

Three Lime Rickeys To Go,  Or, more accurately, Casting My Pearls Before Swine

A small group of guys, Lyle's friends
Must quickly start making amends
The weather's now colder
Mohr's recently older
And soon will start wearing Depends

 

I dragged three of your asses out west
Put your pathetic skills to the test
But if you remember
That was September
When we clearly determined who's best

 

So let's get up and back on that horse
God knows you can't play that much worse
Let's get off the schnide
Whether we walk or we ride
Unless there is lightning, of course.

 

Ernie's response:

 Any group of Lyle's

Replete with smiles

Would have to be small.

Perhaps that's all

That could tolerate his guiles.

 

Your Western fiction

Merits contradiction.

Your memory sucks

Like your Sacagawea bucks

And is a prime example of faulty cognition.

 

So if your ego can handle the test

And the Boys can make it on 1 month's rest

Then a contest we'll play

Whether sunny or gray

And really determine who's best.

 

Gregg's response:

In order to be Lyle's friend

One must first make him spend

Off to the links, say I

So we again can see him cry

 

Though Mohr's a tad older

I still him smolder

Warm soapy showers with Ernie

Make him long for a tourney

 

If it's a road trip you seek

Then I will certainly have to sneak

But whether it be Tucson or Tubac 

I need to win my money back

 

If the game involves a beer

You'll not see me sneer

Lets go hit em, guys

As usual, the loser buys

Report Card Day

Young G gots all A's save for one B+.

That's OK, little man.  Grampa once got a B+ himself.

When The Cancer Comes

What You Realize When Cancer Comes

You will not live forever—No
you will not, for a ceiling of clouds
hovers in the sky.

You are not as brave
as you once thought.
Sounds of death
echo in your chest.

You feel the bite of pain,
the taste of it running
through you.

Following the telling to friends
comes a silence of
felt goodbyes. You come to know
the welling of tears.

Your children are stronger
than you thought and
closer to your skin.

The beauty of animals
birds on telephone lines,
dogs who look into your eyes,
all bring you peace.

You want no more confusion
than what already rises
in your head and heart.

You watch television less,
will never read all those books,
much less the ones
you have.

Songs can move you now, so that
you want to hold onto the words
like the hands of children.

Your own hands look good to you.
old and familiar
as water.

You read your lover's skin
like a road map
into yourself.

All touch is precious now.

There are echoes

in the words thrown
before you.

When they take your picture now
you wet your lips, swallow once
and truly smile.

Talk of your lost parents
pulls you out, and
brings you home again.

You are in a river
flowing in and through you.
Take a breath. Reach out your arms.
You can survive.

            A river is flowing
                        flowing in and through you.
                        Take a breath. Reach out your arms.
by Larry Smith

and no, everything is fine, thanks for asking.

I Do

Punchline to "What's the longest sentence in the English language?"

Watching Football With The Missus

The scene: Green Bay at Philadelphia.

Her:  Look at that!  Bret Favre has grey in his beard!  Guys with grey hair shouldn't still be playing football.

Me:  What are you talking about?!  Lots of greybeards still play.  What about that Morton Anderson guy, the kicker, he's like in his forties, huh?!!

Her: So what?

Me:  So, that's not that far from me.  I could still play you know.  I still got it.

Her:  Uh Huh.

Me:  Hey!  I'm kinda thinking about heading into training camp this fall.  God knows the Cards could use me, and I'm feeling like I got game!!

Her:  That reminds me.  If we buy groceries at Frys on Wednesdays, we get ten percent off for being seniors.