EB

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EB

It started

at the Beach Club, white

sand dusted

the board.  Cube

mystery solved late:

double sixes cleared your home,

I smiled at the blue-

eyed twinkle

over swimmer’s breasts,

firm, even for eighteen:  your

Montclair roots

augmented by strict

upbringing

easily

surpassed by passion.

Watkins conceded romance.

We never got caught,

cabanas

wide open to the

night, three beach loungers placed to

shield young love.

Learning the lexicon of

your long legs,

tongue patrol over

muscle terrain, two

weeks of lust,

a few months of letters, then

the fade back

to lives unshared yet

forever enriched.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Easy Change

Easy Change

She is playing a computer game called Spider.
When did cooking food go from fun to horror?
After ten days Mom makes loose scrambled eggs
For my goo-bye meal, but will she make enough
To eat now that she is back cooking for one?

Now that she has time to do whatever she wants,
Why won’t she step away from Spider and enjoy?
I’m surrounded by friends who need smart advice
More than I do. I think I have helped them, but am
Stumped about how to inspire Mom to live fuller.

Physical borders are broken by better brains,
But when decades of sadness prevents you
From having fun, it’s time for an attitude change.
London broil your way to broadening smiles,
Shrimp cocktail at sunset, life’s joy awaits. Grab it.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2004. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Naples ’98

Naples’98

Enough walking has been done, enough low-flying
Birds, enough sunny hours pass to qualify this as a vacation.
When existence is your job, how do you take a vacation?
It’s bright, and you’ve forgotten your shades.
You can barely open your eyes to spot the beauties
Bending to pick shells, small shells, off pure white sand.

Young pelicans skim over innocent fish while modest
Teens, with towels around bikini bottoms pick routes
That allow six-inch waves to lap against their feet. The
Gulf of Mexico is a sheet of glass, darker as it melts
Into the horizon: Yucatan is a long swim away.
Without glasses, perspective is ruined. Hard to distinguish

Waving dead grass from distant clouds. To your
Left a sparkle of sun bounces, and a pontoon boat
Motors passed. High-pitched outboard harkens a memory
Of fresh water, early-morning fishermen and Rainbow
Trout, not toxic then, frying over a camp fire. Now a
Brown butterfly comes to interrupt self-imposed blindness.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1999. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.