Rainbows and Dust

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Pexels.com

The prompt: write about Rainbows.

Rainbows are magical lights in the sky that fade away before you know it.

Dust is forever.

Dust has body, it has a story ,it has history.

Dust comforts and blankets ruin and decay, landing on it gently so as not to disturb it and not waking it from it’s forever dream filled sleep.

JPL: Dust Storms Raised by Strong Winds on Titan (Artist’s Concept)

Rainbows are pretty and after giving you a few minutes of pleasure they take their prettiness away and leave you standing there in a wet field or sidewalk in front of a  doorway  where someone peed or did drugs a minute or two before you got there and you turn from the ugliness to the sky and  cry: ” Look at that Rainbow! How magical, how beautiful, my soul has been touched.”


Dust is always with us, it follows us, it waits to claim us-you can touch  it, if you want to.

I prefer the company of dust to the company of something that you adore for showing up some of the time to say, ” Look at me, look at me, aren’t I pretty?”


Photo by Matt Hardy on Pexels.com

How Frozen Was My Lake

Back in the late 1960’s when I was little we lived just up the street from Greenlake in Seattle, Washington.

My Dad’s family used to love to tell stories about Greenlake- and at the age of 5 even I knew most of them were tall tales, but they were fun so I never said- ” No, really?”

Like there was a train at the bottom of the lake and it was down there so deep that they couldn’t get the bodies out and sometimes a hand or a foot or a part of the train would float up and if you saw anything like that on the shore don’t touch it because the story says everyone on the train died from some disease and NOBODY KNEW WHAT IT WAS but it was the reason the train crashed into the lake.

Oh and there was one about boat but nobody died on it.

What happened was everyone saw it appear during this wild thunder and lightening storm and it sat out there all night and in the morning it was gone but lo and behold there barrels full of whiskey were on the shore.

I may have missed chunks of that story because it sounds more like wishful thinking on the part of my family more then anything else. Besides at the time I didn’t know what whiskey was.

And then there was the one about the time Greenlake froze over and you could actually walk out onto it.

I actually called baloney on that story.

Barrels of whiskey dumped on shore by a ghost ship, I could understand. A train full of rabid or plague infested passengers who forced the train off the tracks into the lake- sure, I could see it

But I could not imagine Greenlake frozen over and that was that- until that is years later I saw pictures of it on the internet.

You know what this means, right?

I have to rethink those other stories too.

Greenlake Washington January 30, 1916


With You Always

She was broken,

we were broken

she meant nothing to me at all

in the end

he said sadly through a cloud of smoke

to his hot Mama, the Goddess

his true love

on the night of his final betrayal.


And they lived happily ever after

until she came back

from the dead and tracked the dirt they buried her in

right up







Reaper Etiquette

Dear World

It’s not customary to list the shortcomings, legal issues or less then savory personality traits of the recently deceased when referencing their lives in print- I mean it would be pretty funny to let an ex spouse or a disinherited child write the obituaries after slamming back a few celebratory margaritas but that is

simply not how it’s done.

So  when you are on social media, have a little class for a day or two after someone passes.

With a little common sense and decency you too can master the finer points of

Reaper Etiquette


Without A Map To Guide Me

I keep losing my way,

it runs off without me

and I can’t keep up


my way


angry, vicious, blind in one eye

but somehow it manages to

shake me, lose me, elude me

when I need it the most.

My way is lost but it doesn’t care

I do.

I’m sorry I have lost my way.