2 cents overdrawn

                           (The Further Trials Of The Worlds Greatest Ski Bum)

Mick Jagger on a full screen
MTV Video screaming
"I'm just waiting on a lady
I'm just waiting on a friend."

Golden Peak restaurant bar
warming my hands on a
steaming ceramic coffee filled mug.
Arriving one day later than,
the Vail Mountain employee draw.

Being 2 cents overdrawn and scribbling
like Gollum caressing his precious, precious,
my powder snow poetry.

Leaving the restaurant like that,
I mean blue words
on a white paper napkin
thinking them worth much
more than 2 missing pennies.

Pulling on down gloves
trudging into the wilderness,
like Strider the Ranger.

Never really fitting in
like a brown wood log cabin
mud caulked chinked
with a grey stone chimney
sizzling snowshoe rabbit.
Smoke billowing wafting
through silent Aspens.

It hangs drifting like
cotton ball clouds
sparkling crystals
bending emerald
boughs of pines.

A skinny ski trail snaking around
deep powder tree wells
to a stoked glowing fireplace
in the White River National Forest
warding off dusk.
Today's Song
"Please Come to Boston," Joan Baez

Wild Horses

    Wyoming, early morning prairie dews
seep deep enough, pooling and reflecting
a wild chestnut stallion's eyes.

His hooves kicking pebbles rippling
little waves, flowing and trickling in to streams
of mirages dissipating into noon day vapors
and pastured greens of rattle snake plains.
Today's Song
"Wild Horses," Rolling Stones

Old Man

Old Man
sittin in a chair
ain't goin nowhere
so you've been to war.

I guess you know the score.

Old Man,
your hair turned grey
whatta you goin to do today.

Old Man,
your high on life.

Old Man,
you got a skinny old wife.

Young Man writing down his rhyme
Old Man taught you all about time.
Today's Song
"Old Man," Neil Young

Restless Spirits, Harnessed Spirits

Green Fields
spirits
running wild
across and endless eternity.

Hooves pounding on the turf
trodden by many men's souls
before
slowing, slowing
only to a walk.

For at last a fence it is harnessed in.

Assimilation

                                                                Assimilation

It is from deep inside
I do perceive
the vicious web
society weaves.

When you are young
and your mind still blank
they assimilate you through
their ungodly rank.

Where,

Conform! Conform!
are the words  well worn
and individuality
pays
the price of scorn.
Today's Song
"Dust in the Wind," Kansas

Poodle Tricks

My name is Pete

and I'm a poodle pup.

My tricks are many

for treats I love.

My parents have loved me

since the day I came

They knew from the start

that I would find fame.

Art of Hitch Hiking

     I briefly touched on the art of hitch hiking in my last blog, but I firmly believe that there is a fine art to it. I suppose that you can make the argument that people that hitch hikers are destitute or down and out. However there are, or there once was, a group that did it because it was fun. Even if you are destitute you have to present yourself as someone who you would pick up. You don't have to wear your Sunday best, but being filthy is not the answer. The rules as I see them are Look like you want a ride. Be attentive to the road and traffic so that you can make eye contact with your potential driver.
So that when and if they are going to pick you up you are at least aware of it happening. Circumstances put people in all kinds of positions, I never thought that it was beneath me to hitch a ride. Once I hitched on old route 20 from Albany, New York to Rochester with my old dog Dusty. We actually did well and got good rides. Although he was a very cool dog. It was a great experience.
     Many of my short stories have the central character as a wayfarer. In fact I once got a rejection letter telling me my central character should have obvious means of support to be a role model for young children. I think that only fueled my Pied Piper Complex. If traveling and hitching were truly to be an Art. My characters would be stellar examples of it.
     So I will continue to make The Art of Hitch Hiking a theme to write about. For all the children out there I will leave you with one of my Poems from Of Mountains and Men.

                                                       Upon The Mountains


Go upon the mountains
My beautiful innocent children
Leave the cities far behind.
For they in their ingratitude
Condemn themselves to their solitude!
Today's Song
Take To The Highway, James Taylor