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Gun Owner Control

I’m in no danger of becoming an expert on guns. I just don’t care about them very much. They seem expensive, dangerous, and essentially useless for anything I might do. I do have one, though, inherited. An heirloom, kept secure and inaccessible, wrapped in swaddling cloth, with no ammunition in the house.

I don’t like ‘em. I figure if Matt Dillon insisted that anyone entering Dodge check his gun at the city limits, I’m with him. I don’t mind people owning them, just that some of the owners insist upon shooting them in public. Slip over here for more ...


Grandma Love

Don’t look for it in the movies,
try not to push and shove,
no pundit in this world understands
Grandma Love.
It’s the glue that sticks together
pretty much everything we see,
but rarely do we stop to think
what that glue might be.

Slip over here for more ...


I say, “I see you,”
though I doubt I really do.
I certainly don’t see you the same way
you see you.
I look your way and even stop to say
some greeting as I pass,
and you return my acknowledgement,
maybe touching the brim of your hat.

We live our lives playing peek-a-boo,
believing all along the way
that we left behind our most childish games
in favor of grown-up play.
Then every blessed day we play,
unconscious of the game,
unspoken “Peek-a-boo” each time we greet,
with rituals much the same. Slip over here for more ...


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