By: J.K. Durick

Walking in Late

I’m running late, so I’m walking
faster, walking faster and looking
at my wrist as if I have a watch to
tell me if I’m late or going to be late.
Walking faster and watch watching
even though I never can walk very
fast and, of course, I don’t own
a watch, show that I have a place
to be that expects me and I expect
to be welcome when I arrive on time
or near enough that the people who
expect me won’t greet me with one
of those “where the hell have you
been” looks. You must know that
look, a bit sideways with rolling eyes
and even some make a tsking sound
to underline the point they want to
make about my arrival. I’m walking
faster, and the people I pass know
that I must be important and have
important things to do, important
business that only punctual people
are ever involved in.

Dare Disturb

In the end it was easy to disturb
The universe, set it back, trip it up
Get it to look foolish. It was in him
All along, near the surface, a brief
Dig down to the joker he always was
The rake, the villain, the anti-hero he
He always planned to be. Of course
The universe proved to be a push-over
Easy to disturb, easy to set off kilter.
He felt like he should rename it, calls
It something else now, not universe
As if were the end all and be all of all
That was happening and not. Choice
Of names is always hard. Like Adam
Coming across an elephant for the first
Time, he hesitated naming it. A large
Grey being lumbering along, taking up
More space than it should. He got rid
Of the “uni” part” and was left with just
“Verse.” Chapter and verse sounded
More like it. It’s easy to disturb a chapter
And verse – so he went on to finish up
The rest of his book.

Neighbour

My neighbor from up the street is a painter, paints full time.
Paints insides and outsides of some homes and businesses.
He has a crew, and together they have painted miles of walls
and acres of ceilings. He’s sure they could paint their way to
Oregon and back, over and over, if need be. Right now though
he’s leaving his mark on our small part of the world, but, as we
all know, paint is a temporary add-on. It fades overtime
and collects the dust and dirt that’s all around us. His work has
only an immediate luster and then it turns on him and demands
more. Since he’s a young man, my neighbor can always repeat
the insides and outsides, the walls and ceilings, give them
a second coat, a twentieth, and a thirtieth coat. He will be driving
down our street every morning for years to come heading out to
get after our almost colorless world, put his temporary fix in place
roller after roller, brush stroke after brush stroke. I like to think he
whistles while he works, fixing up the place as best any of us can.

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J.K. Durick is a retired teacher, taught for years at Trinity College of Vermont and after that for many years at the Community College of Vermont. His recent poems have appeared in Poem Alone, Hyde Park Poetry, Synchronized Chaos, Literary Yard, 3rd Wednesday, and Journal of Expressive Writing.