Pour Prendre Conge by Dorothy Parker

Pour Prendre Conge by Dorothy Parker
I'm sick of embarking in dories
Upon an emotional sea.
I'm wearied of playing Dolores
(A role never written for me).

I'll never again like a cub lick
My wounds while I squeal at the hurt.
No more I'll go walking in public,
My heart hanging out of my shirt.

I'm tired of entwining me garlands
Of weather-worn hemlock and bay.
I'm over my longing for far lands-
I wouldn't give that for Cathay.

I'm through with performing the ballet
Of love unrequited and told.
Euterpe, I tender you vale;
Good-by, and take care of that cold.

I'm done with this burning and giving
And reeling the rhymes of my woes.
And how I'll be making my living,
The Lord in His mystery knows.

Dorothy Parker

Waking up

Today the light cascaded down to the ocean
as a silent waterfall of pale golden light
upon a bed of shadowed charcoal clouds.
The image of a card from many years ago filled my thoughts.
A man,
his head hung in shame and
sorrow
or
defeat?
Inside, inscribed,
"I'm sorry, duh.duh.duh."
Rain wept strongly behind him, surrounding him,
pushing him downward and into the night.
Where ever will we meet.
When we move forward
when we have walked
and closed our eyes.

Wednesday Morning

Today the ocean smelled like a pair of old musty balls.
Snaking through the sand in a low tide
the missing members of a kelp forest
inched towards the rocks.
A surfer,
running towards the board that had flown from his feet
shoulder length locks that caught the sun just so..
sculpted stature encased in a slinky wetsuit
and a great.big.smile. crossed my face
Hmmmmmmmm...
and then I thought, "Who knows, maybe he doesn't like Woody Allen movies."
God love um.

Westcliff in my hometown of Santa Cruz, California.