Broadsides

I once asked Godimg_20161113_082229
for a sign

needing more
than spiritual
Burma-Shave

cardboard
placards stapled
to raw, rough
pine sticks

Ah, but I am
not advertising

my tag-board
always blankly
devoid of
political hateimg_20161113_084228
hackneyed slogans

five-ninety-nine
pizza specials!
buy your
gold for more!

I am not here
to direct others
to event parking
or partake in
girls! girls! girls!

nobody here is
going out of businessimg_20161113_082233
due to low prophets
the guy misspelled
the end is ‘neer

spiritual conclusion

God wants me
to protest
something
all of it, perhaps

there is no profit
to prophesying or
downsizing

I am I!

Less recalcitrant,img_20161113_084229
spat-up Noah –
pine-splinter
infused hands
to wave

my finely honed
ability to ignore
disdainful glances,
head shaking
avoidance

causes me to smile

I wear styish,
spat-out invective
from passerby
curmudgeonlyimg_20161113_084248
badge of honor,

hold my sign higher

I once asked God
for a sign
and he told me,
point-blank,
helpfully

“First, you’ll
need
better shoes.”

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2016
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Dutiful

phone1Following my calling
and the call
dropped

I call back
nobody picks up
nobody calls back

I have left the messages

trying to reconnect
number no longer
in service
‘your recipient hasn’t
set up voice mailphone2
for this account’

Am I being ignored
via caller I.D.
spurned due to
embarrassed discomfort

Following my calling
and the call
dropped

inexplicably

not in a dead zone
I have plenty of bars
battery fully charged

I followed my calling
now nobody calls
nobody writes
no text, FaceTime,
stone tablet
pronouncementphone

Following my calling
when the call
dropped

Trying to reconnect.

Leave your name
and number
I’ll get back to you

– Mark Lucker

Q-and-A

I am aging gracefullyroadlesstraveled
as is my faith

like the gray replacing
the brown in my beard
pesky questions
have been quietly
replaced not with
answers

but the earned ease
that comes with
the confidence of blithely
ignored uncertainty,

There is grace in abandoned100_1782
worry, freedom in letting go
the folly of life mastery
comfort with embracing
the mystery

there are products I could
buy to subdue hirsute hues
but I am not that vain

I could say I have found
my questions answered
but the need for that lie
has long since waned

The older I get the morsnowypinese
confident I am the
only thing ‘truth’ truly
means is that today is today
tomorrow will probably still
be tomorrow and that
whether I think I get it or not

the questions don’t matter
nearly as much as knowing
the unanswered uncertainty
has gone away forever
and I never miss it

Mark Lucker

The trip

Reading the patina-seasoned bronze postcard
at my feet stokes no inner desire of mine to travel

Details are scarce; dates, no places.

This is premium vacation time, a long time coming
traveling solo; no timeshares, no all-inclusive-cruise –
hostel or hostile? No clue, just reading the postcard

No routine platitudes, clichés; ‘having wonderful time’
‘wish you were here’ – is he really, on either count?

Once you have saved – been saved – and pay hefty
sums to take this trip the obligation to proclaim your
enjoyment becomes an eternal Sword of Damocles –
twenty-four/seven party or bored, bored, bored, bored
matters not to reader, nor apparently, the writer

Postcards are banal, erudite half-truth memos;
thumb—your-nose-at-the-workaday-slackers jokes, and
‘wish you were here’ – not. ‘Having really wonderful time.’

I’ll bet – because we all place ours in some way, all in.

If the truth could be told it would but it can’t. It just can’t.
But really…would you want it to?

Hell of a deal, missing out on a swell trip, but I can surely
wait, go much later as reservations are not accepted, but
natural, and earned with lifetime of experience, cancelled
only by faith – thankfully without any tacked-on fees.

Questions, so many questions, about his return; will
he need a pickup, or just grab a cab? Wonder what he’ll
bring me for a souvenir, if he’ll have anything to declare.

I wonder about such a long trip – I’m no where near
ready to travel, myself – but when I do, should I bring a
stack of postcards or just buy them in the gift shop?
What about stamps? How frequent is the mail?

I’ll write something different, unique. Or so I say now.

‘Having wonderful time – wish you were here lies…’