Frank and Willow #3

  (Photo origin unknown)
We met on a balcony,during a party,Frank and I. I was struggling with drinks with my friend Judy.Frank was watching Leo and Tony hang the lights.Arguing all the while. And then walked over in his very casual way,and began helping me. I however argued with him.Until we talked about the war. And other things. We finally left and he took me to a place the war hadn’t reached quite yet. An artist by the name of Picasso  had a showing in town. At a collectors house. Even though his work was banned.We went-and we drank. 

I couldn’t tell you much else…

I accused Frank of being too American.He was late for everything. Late for the war. Late for the dance. And I was engaged. I was hard headed. Furious. You had to be back then. Otherwise the Sharks would eat you alive. 

But we kept seeing each other.until the days grew into weeks. And we didn’t talk about the war.We didn’t talk about the past. We talked only of the future. And eventually. Paris was free again. And the war had ended. And we were still together. The years-turned into decades.But when I look back. I think of those lights and that party. That night. 

I never knew what he did…not exactly. We didn’t talk of that. We were living in it. We survived by talking of the future.that sustained us. He’s the reason I’m here today. 

Willow looked out the window.Then slowly rising from her chair. She looked at the girl from the paper writing every word down. “They don’t make them like that,not anymore.when the darkness comes,we become light,even for each other.everyone deserves great sex,and great love,great companionship.remember that.Its what we do this for. We make art out of it. But others make war.

Sara closed her note pad. Tried hard to swallow. “Wow that’s some story,Mrs Grey.” She had everything she could think of. Her story. Some photographs. She got up from the couch. “Thank you so much for sharing this.Really.” 

Willow only smiled. “Hey I was young once. And a journalist,like you. I wanted the story. Now I am the story. It’s just the circle.” 

The Walk 

Science says we are all 

The same family 

The shades of our skin 

And our differences 

Are small technicalities 

As they were shaped 

Over time by our environment

We have a lot of arguments 

We have too many differences 

We have too much history 

We have too much baggage 

We have too many roads to cross 

Too many hands 

With not enough fingers 

Too much blood 

With not enough guns 

Too much to blame 

But not enough names 
I remember a poem I read once 


“We’re all just walking each other home.”

-Ram Dass

Maybe that’s what this is 
We are all 

In this together 

We are all the same family 

Our mothers 

And their mothers 

Who woke up 

And saw visions of their loved ones 

In uniform 

Prayed until they fell back asleep 

They were feeling their loved ones heartbeat

in that empty space 

Of the bed 

They were walking them home 

 it’s never the moments 

you prepared for 

that you will remember 

It’s the unexpected 

Your wife 

Getting out of the car 

On your first date 

With a tank top 

And maxi skirt 

You don’t know that will 


one of your favorite 


Not at the time 


How could you?
So I say again …


We are in this together 

We don’t know 

What memory 

We will carry with us 

In this portfolio 

In this life
Feel the heartbeat 

See the room 

We all are capable 


Love like this 

That spans a lifetime 


 (Photo origin unknown)



Cooking 101

So we are doing Blue Apron

And it’s pretty fantastic. 

I don’t know why I’m telling you this.You probably already know. 

Our first meal was of course 

Something very easy. 

Salmon…or was it tilapia? 

It was salmon 

And quinoa salad
Now if you are unfamiliar 

With the quinoa …


Is like …essentially …


But worse. 

It just gets all over everything 

It’s small 

And it’s healthy 

And grainy 

So if you are ever hungry 

And want to eat an entire harvest of a thing 

Go get quinoa 

It’s also surprisingly difficult to deal with 

Surprising because it doesn’t do anything 

It just sits there 

Being itself 

It’s not alive 

It’s not in a shell 

Like lobster 

All you are required to do 

Is be sanitary with it 

wash it 

And boil it


we really had no idea how to strain it. 

Because it’s so small. 

And I thought cheese cloth would be a great idea. 

If we had cheese cloth. 

So finally 

I decided 

To just use a coffee filter 

Because it strains coffee 

And quinoa is a lot like coffee 

Only healthier I’m sure.

Although it can’t make me get out of bed in the morning. I’ll tell you that. 

In the end 

Blue apron is great 

It comes in boxes 

And it’s like Christmas 

But in a very caveman way 

Because it’s food 

And quinoa salad is swell 

And delicious 

But a pain to have to handle 

But probably not as bad as squid.

Because if they ever send a box with squid I just don’t think I could handle that. 

Frank and Willow #2

 (Photo origin) Kus voor de Opera / Kisses for Opera, 1950’s, Kees Scherer. Dutch (1920 – 1993)

I remember the lights.The music.The war was going strong,yes. But I was just a journalist. And everyone was tired. So tired from the death and the arguments and debates back home.I know it sounds silly-but-we did party. As often as we could. Oh,it was different than what you know.Being out of the country. We only had old Jazz. But there was still light. And I was in Paris. And Paris will always be Paris…

This side of paradise 

 Dear You…

The one on the limb 

The one on the brink 

The one in the empty room 

Where love went to die 

Where you first realised 

That lips don’t always taste like wine 

And touches turn to bruises and 

Hidden Ice packs in the back of the fridge 

For you 

Maybe it’s different 

Maybe it’s the same 

Maybe Fitzgeralds words…

“We are meant to lose the ones we love,how else would we know what they mean to us?” 

Means something entirely different to you? 

Maybe it just means …

“How else would we know we were living in fiction” 

Dear you…

You will paint again 

You will write again 

You are still you 

You are still whole 

Your voice will not betray you

And you will catch the rain 

And you will recognise it’s colours 

In the way that is your way 

How do I know?

The history teacher knows 

Forcing societies into 

Standards and appearances 

Is slavery and not “civilised”

Just like the librarian knows…

You can’t change your spouse 

And the man at the hospital 

From the accident knows …

Your politician 

Your father 

Your pastor 

Your church 

Isn’t your mediator …

You are only responsible for you

It doesn’t matter 

What everyone else is doing 

Or what this looks like

You are still whole  

Maybe a little different 


You are the only …

(Out of all the faces)

The only -You.