Practice

What is your pleasure tonight,
my love,
a haunting little treat
to dance with shadows and echo on walls and dance with pointed feet?
Perhaps a trill will give the thrill to entrance elite?
Or might it be a symphony
To bring them all to bend a knee
And recognize the powers be
Or, make them all retreat?
My arm becomes bow
My fingers, the string
You and I
Have become
One and The Same thing.

Life in the Key of C

“C is for cookies, that’s good enough for me. C is for cookies, that’s good enough for me. C is for cookies, that’s good enough for me, oh, Cookie, Cookie, Cookie starts with C” – Cookie Monster

The place of the crabapple tree has developed into one I am particularly fond of. Notwithstanding its proximity to the heart of Bills Country, the town is in and of itself an amoebas entity, spread and set out like a layer of too thin mozzarella scattered on a frozen Tony’s. Crossing the 90 and 33 alike, it’s sliced out as a good upstate pie should be. Mini neighborhoods of townhouses and apartment complexes, and the ever so exclusive and elusive single family homes. Inside the John & Mary’s, or the Johnny’s, reminiscent odes of a bygone era permeate conversation and aesthetic, in an embrace of community, home, and family.

Take for example, my liquor store. My relationship with alcohol is clearly defined by me knowing the staff on a first name basis and always qualifying for the 20% off VIP.

“Alcohol, my permanent accessory
Alcohol, a party-time necessity
Alcohol, alternative to feeling like yourself
Oh alcohol, I still drink to your health I love you more than I did the week before
I discovered alcohol
Oh alcohol, would you please forgive me?
For while I cannot love myself
I’ll use something else”- Alcohol, Barenaked Ladies

Not that I party. I’ve been out as many times as fingers sprout from my left hand in the year I have been here. I visit twice per month. Payday, naturally. So, on payday last a Deep Eddy Lemon handle landed in my basket. Joan asks, “did ya fine something new?” “Aye,” I answer, “and bigger than I ever imagined.” Her eyes widen, then brighten in a burst of guffaws and tears that indicate a knowing. “Please come back” she says, “I needed that.”

Or Johnny’s. Well, really it’s Jimmy’s. You see Jimmy is always at the register and remembers my name. The walk is short, and I arrive early to observe the staff. They’re a symphony, seamless and rhythmic, ebbing and flowing with the vibration of incoming and fulfilling business. Pie in, pie out, oven check, boxing, wrapping, Ca-Ching, pie out, pie in, oven check, ad infinitum. Jimmy looks up and the smile of recognition spreads – “This one is for C, the one and only.” “You’d better believe it” I reply, and the Greek pie I’ve been salivating for is in my hands and ready for its decimation.

In taking our daily journey around the block, the moon and I always stop to greet P and L. They love Looney. Upon their first introduction, little moon helped herself to L’s Bud Light, and he was thrilled to share with her. Every drive or walk by their abode is met with a smile and a wave, and they return that of my own when the moon and I are front porching the afternoon with a lager from Big Ditch.

There’s an angel who’s visited a few times this winter while I was working, and I know this for I came home to find my driveway plowed and walk shoveled with care. For certain my next door neighbor has a plow, and as a quiet fellow would probably not admit he’d been over nor ever seek the attention of discovery. He passes and waves, the golden dog barks happily, and I return his smile and gesture.

My two bedroom oasis is kept precisely in a way that Sterile Cheryl would approve of- neat and clean, and with only what’s necessary. Necessity has itself taken on new meaning to include lots of art supplies and sheet music and amplifier and instruments and books, and a room just for yoga and iaido.

I’m comfortable. I’m free. And I’m ridiculously blessed. I’m not sure to whom or what I owe my gratitude, but thank you, from my very full heart.

“I knew you before the west was won
And I heard you say the past
Was much more fun
You go your way, I go mine
But I’ll see you next time – It’s all been done
It’s all been done
It’s all been done before” It’s All Been Done -Barenaked Ladies

“Buffalo gal won’t you come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight? Buffalo gal won’t you come out tonight and dance by the light of the moon?”