Spiderman Lunchbox

We saw him on our morning walk

a small boy 

tethered, just barely

hand in mother’s hand

on their way to the school 

next to the park.

He looked at Jack The Dog with wonderment

and looked at me briefly

to see what type of person 

walks a great beast in the park.

He smiled as we distracted his focus a few times

but moving always forward

he could barely contain his excitement

as he drew near his destination.

And I tried to remember 

what it felt like

to have so much excitement 

buzzing around inside you

that it made you skip
while Mom escorted you to that magical room

that smelled of paste and disinfectant

where your best friends in the whole-wide-world 

would be there waiting for you, excited on your arrival,

bursting to ask you great questions 

and compare stories of

what you saw on TV last night
as we waited for those sessions
out on the hungry concrete 

that ate skin from girl’s knees and boy’s elbows

while we we ran and screamed with abandon

to the sound of playing on clanking metals bars

and hoped to be picked 

for the greatest kickball game

15 minutes would allow.

And I wondered

what was in his Spiderman lunchbox.

Is it still a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (no crust),

lots of wee-size snacks

not made for kids but for tired moms,

and a small box of something 

trying to pass itself off as real juice (100% natural!),
or did his lunch box come with a matching thermos

that now holds the eternal smell of spoiled milk?

And when opening his lunch 

and seeing slices of apple or celery (good for trading with a girl)

instead of those mini-cupcakes,

is this what will teach him 

his first lessons in repeated disappointment 

in the name of "It's good for you"..?

So,

what would it take 

to get you to skip to work tomorrow

in appreciation of the possibilities 

of another beautiful day?
Once upon a time

it was as simple as the anticipation 

of what's in your Spiderman lunchbox.

Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   September 2013

Tired

On a tired old day

a tired old man

and his tired old dog

sought the shade

of a tired old tree

to escape the heat

from a tired old sun

that beat down on a tired old world.

The tired old man 

looked at the tired old dog and said,

"I'm worried about these problems of mine.

I don't know what to do."

The tired old dog did not say anything.

Then the tired old dog 

looked up at the tired old man 

and turned his tired old head slightly to the right 

as if he knew what the tired old man had said 

but was unsure as to why he had said it, 

as if he was thinking it all over very carefully, 

as if he knew this was very important 

and deserved a good answer.

The tired old dog had no answer.

"Perhaps if we sit here a little longer, 

something will come to me" 

said the tired old man.

The tired old dog looked at him as if to say,

"That seems reasonable to me."

They both thought about things for a while longer 

and watched the tired old world go by.

The tired old dog had no objection 

to more time in the shade of a tired old tree.

He sighed heavily and put his tired old head

on the cool grass under the tired old tree

and stretched out his tired old dog bones.

"Don't worry, I'll figure something out"

said the tired old man,

and he went back to thinking 

about his tired old problems

that were holding him down 

with the weight of this tired old world.

The tired old dog took a deep breath 

and sighed a long tired sigh 

and looked at the tired old man as if to say, 

"You'll think of something. You always do. 

Let me know when you've got an idea.

I'll be right here."

And the tired old dog took a nap,

because thats what you do 

in the shade of a tired old tree

to escape the heat 

from a tired old sun

on a tired old day

in this tired old world.

Ken Owen    Van Niddy Press   September 2013

The View From Here

have a seat

right here 

next to me,

we'll dream share

as the sun 

fades morning mist

into futures revealed,

our gift of love 

received in reverence,

hearts bound together

forever.

Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   September 2013