Miles Solitarius

sic emeritus
meritus miles in castris
Cupidinis redit

cum non thesauro
manu domum peruenit
ipse solus est

miles aedis et
lectum ad somnum parat; se
tradit somnio

ille somnit
de preeliis amoris
bellis uictoriae

sed cum somnium
finit non corpus juxtum
illum nocte est

Rise and Shine

     Sunny-side up,
mocking our squinting faces and grey dispositions.
We stumble-walk through the kitchen with yawns like foghorns
warning of our approach.
     The grease dances on the pan with excitement,
     sounding like a thousand tiny voices cheering,
while we sit in grumpy silence,
     shoveling brightly colored eggs and orange juice
into our undead mouths.
    Last night we lived like tomorrow would never come,
and this morning our eyes burn like vampires' in the dawn.

One of the Most Important Things about Being a Waiter...

... is mastering the Art of Not Being in the Way. With servers, busboys, cooks and managers pumping through the kitchen like blood, you'd better not clog that artery or the whole back end of the restaurant will seize up like a fat man having a heart attack.

On the Chalk Board in the Chapter House

"I pooped!"
--Tod

"Me too!"
--Kendall

"You forgot to flush!"
--BJ

Utica, MO's Greatest Love Affair

Our love will last like the spray paint on the side of the water tower
that stands as a monolithic tribute to these past two years.
Like Napoliean's Arc De'Triumph,
every time I pass by the white pillar
I'll be reminded of your conquest of my heart.
As grand as the Colossus of Rhodes,
this pearl obelisk will be a herald
to all those passers-by one Highway 36
that our love is strong.
Our love is like this steel spire,
as sturdy as the metal,
as filled with joy as the tower is with water.
And that is why I wanted the whole world to know that
"I LOVE TIFFANY JOENEAL."

This Week in Pre-Review

"today is monday. i am already tired and weary from a week that has yet to happen. i feel like i’m planning ahead, getting on the ball by being already so beaten down. i’m no procrastinator!!"
--Oblivio

Before Noon Is Too Early

Sunny-side up
mocking our squinting faces
and grey dispositions.
We stumble-walk through the kitchen
with yawns like foghorns
warning of our approach.
The grease jumps on the pan with excitement;
more energy than either of us could muster,
sitting in grumpy silence,
shoveling brightly colored
eggs and orange juice
into our numb mouths.

The Last Supper

I was joking. Really. "This is my blood, drink. This is my body, eat." That's my shtick. I don't know, maybe cannabalism was just funnier in my day.

It was our last supper together. We all knew it; I had to ease the tension. Judas was usually the funny one, but he had other things on his mind that night. So it was up to me.

So, this crazy toast I made when I was out drinking with the guys, is called 'communion' now, huh? It's so strange to think that our last night of fun has been turned into a stodgy religious ceremony. Leave it to the Christians to turn merriment into monotony.

Ghost of Cowboys

Cowboys do not cry,
even when shot, bleeding, and in pain.
For tumbleweeds rolling by,

it's common to see such men die,
and to tip-toe past where they remain.
Cowboys do not cry,

though they may release a weary sigh
and finish singing their last refrain
for tumbleweeds rolling by.

Looking to the expansive sky
for answere about lives lived in vain,
cowboys do not cry.

It is said that when cowboys die
their ghosts scour the plain
for tumbleweeds rolling by

which their spirits may occupy.
Do not shed tears for slain
cowboys; do not.  Cry
for tumbleweeds rolling by.

Where Have You Been?

You didn't write! You didn't call! We were worried sick about you!

I know; I've just been so busy --

I don't want to hear any excuses, mister!

I'm sorry. Really, I am. It won't happen again, I promise.

Oh, come here and give me a hug. I can't stay mad at you.