The Trapeze Swinger

For me this song is like the smell of spring rain, a warm hand hold, and wet grass between my toes.

It's just like being up and being down in the same moment, holding a baby for the first time, or burying a friend I barely knew.

It's everything all at once and nothing at all, like being warm in the middle of the winter.

When I hear it, I think of my grandmother's rose bush on the side of my house and how we could always count on a rose for my brother's November birthday.

When he sings, I feel the way I did when I first sang out loud.

It's the sunrise and the sunset, my last yawn before falling asleep and my first thought upon waking.

This song is beauty in emptiness.

Italian Sunday

On my trek to il duomo for Mass one Sunday morning, I passed an old man coming out of la pasticceria on Via Ulisse Rocchi, carrying a cake-sized package tied with red string. He looked so happy; he wore a terrifically huge grin on his face, just like a little boy who'd just been given his first red bicycle. I couldn't help being delighted myself. I saw him eyeing my grin, and I mentally cleared by throat. But instead of a polite "Buon giorno" the cute old man positively burst with a joyful, "CIAO!"

I returned it with equal gusto, feeling happy and warm to the tips of my fingers.

Jesus Is Coming: Look Busy

Heard during a game of water pong at the Slanty Shack in northern Missouri on a cold January night:


Drew: "If Jesus were here, they'd all be wine."

Greg: "At least purified water."

Nella Stazione

Approaching the Giarre-Riposto station, the voyeur in me immediately spots the 20-something couple making out on the platform, surrounded by other waiting Sicilians. She has her hair up in a high, side pony-tail, something I have seen since about the 3rd grade. She's taller than he is, poor bastard. I can't see much of him from the way he's positioned, but he appears to be not only shorter, but slighter in frame than his perfectly average girlfriend.

Even from my window on this moving train I can clearly see her wide-open eyes, mid lip-lock and all. I wonder which of them is leaving. Is she relieved to see him go? to finally get him and his short-man syndrome out of her life--if not for good--at least for a while? or is she looking forward to leaving him in Catania while she escapes to something more? And does he have any idea at all?

In my mind, I smirk and shamefully make horns with my lifted index and pinkie fingers.