Lately, I have been having a difficult time concentrating on my latest book, Come out fighting with your goulashes on. The holes in my head have taken over I must attest. I don’t know if you, the gentle readers, keep up with the recent news on Fox (or as my husband calls it faux news) but the world has gone insane to be quite forthright.
When did this turn into a nation so self-centered that we feel we must make a testimonial by killing innocent adults and children and then end it in an egotistical way by offing themselves?
Once, long ago, I could honestly say that nothing dazed me. Sadly, those days are gone and now the holes and I are intensely saddened at the unnecessary slaughter of lives.
I was not going to divulge a little secret that I have hidden from my readers, but I will share with you today one of my current projects that I have kept under wrap. To be honest I was never good at keeping secrets anyways, ask my brother. By the way when we where kids, he used to run around in my high heels and put lipstick on. Okay I just made that up.
Now for my secret, I have been working on a book entitled, Florida Death Penalty; A Controversy in Paradise. The premise showing both sides of the death penalty debate in Florida, those who believe in it and those who don’t. The conclusion will reveal why I am for or against and the reasons behind my beliefs. I have a predicament now, I don’t know if I should finish this project or not. My opinions have been genuinely affected by the current events.
Sometimes, when the holes in my head crave variety, I work on my autobiography Like a Hole in the Head. I want to share with you a poem that I wrote for this book. It seems fitting today.
Sand in My Shoes
I was standing on the beach, watching the waves crashing at my feet.
Miles of shore, massive to a child of barely ten.
I pondered the disease that had stolen my mother, as the birds flew carelessly.
Swooping down, one trapped a fish and swallowed in a single gulp.
Horrified, was this the end of the fish’s being?
Continuing along the shore, a crab scurried amidst the powder dunes.
“Mr. Crab be careful” I cried as the birds began to encroach.
He did not appear to hear me, so I gently cupped him in my tiny hands.
Just in time, as the gull plunged, instead he ate a mass of sand.
I carried the crab to the nearby reeds, depositing him ever so gently.
Thunder in the distance, my father announced it was time to go.
At home I obediently removed my shoes, by the kitchen entry.
Sand still balmy from the beating sun, the sand felt hot between my toes.
I filled a baggy with the sand, my father head shook with disapproval.
“A reminder” I said.
“A reminder”? He questioned.
“Yes, of how precious life is”.
Still confused my father listed as I spoke in almost a whisper.
“I think we are here to save a life, father, and one crab at a time.”