Vim – May 10, 2011

Posted: May 11, 2011 in Samples of My Writing, Writing Posts

Here is another poem from Time Lapse to be published by Black Moss Press. You can get the ebook version of Higher Ground at Amazon.

Here is the cover image for Time Lapse and is another amazing photograph by Marty Gervais:

My uncle had a glass eye
That he polished on Sundays
Before church
He’d take it out
And hold it up to the light
He would palm it
And open his fist
To show it to me
Like a chestnut he’d gathered

Later Dad would drive
My mother to church
But wait out in the car
With my brother and me
He’d fiddle with the radio
Even though there was only one station
If a good song came on
He’d turn up the volume
And hum along
Hear that boys he’d say
That’s what you call music
You get a ukulele or banjo
And learn to play
And that’s all I’m going to say
On that subject
Then he’d light a cigarette and
Blow smoke at the windshield

Whenever my uncle
Emerged from church his glass
Eye was in its proper place
He once claimed
On the drive home that
Soon God would
Line us up and
Look us each in the eye
Not say a word though
Just move on the next one
When he got to the end
He’d just keep going

See you next week
My uncle would say
Before getting into his dented Plymouth
My brother and I would
Push it half way down the hill
Before he’d let out the clutch
And the car would sputter ahead
Giver my brother would say
And in that moment
We felt spoiled and alive

Our uncle’s car puffed
Blue smoke as he sped off
His arm raised out the window
In a celebratory wave
He needed the good eye for driving
The rest of the time
The glass eye suited him just fine

  1. An old bass player friend of mine had to get a glass eye. He thought he could handle the change quite well by not telling anyone about it. Just before a gig, in a dark pub, he sat down with Lena and me, to have a quick bite. In the middle of a long winded story about the ferocious winter weather in Sooke, his glass eye popped right out of his skinny head, and onto my caesar salad. There was a deadly, long pause, in the story, and in the space time continuum. As the dim light slowly returned to the room, I deadpanned, “You hungry Dave? Want my salad?” Dave sheepishly reached out a thin arm and plucked the large anchovy-like eye from my plate, gave it a rub, and placed it back in his skinny head…….”Uh, uh,…..I’m really sorry!”, was all he could splutter. It took all of my strength to hold back a belly laugh as Lena and I both avoided each others eyes for the rest of the night.

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