Saturday, November 8, 2014

Friendly Conversation
November 8th, 2014
Jason Murray 

the grocery store is full of people
all bustling and hurrying trying
to get the things for tonights dinner
boxes and cans and frozen food
very little of it will take care and
love to prepare for themselves, others

The endless rows and stacks of shiny fruit
the carefully stacked rows of Kale and
lettuce and cabbage and carrots and potatoes
the meat all cut and prepared and laid out
with the reverence, the seriousness of a
well made brick wall all facing the same way

I am here as well to get my dinner tonight
I wait my turn at the butcher counter 
to get my eight short ribs, bone and fat and meat
then on to produce as I pick out onions and garlic
and rutabaga and beets and carrots and potatoes
all stacked in my cart with the wine and the beer

An elevator to my car and then careful drive home
the puppy sitting on my arm to see out the window
rocking car as I enter the driveway careful not 
to hit the hedge to hard, small scratches evidence of 
past encounters and I am home, is this home 
the kitchen is not mine, the house doesn't always feel 

The orange Le Crueset pan sits on matching flame
the oil inside heating until almost smoking 
I drop the ribs in one by one the sound of the meat 
as it hits the oil satisfying to me, the initial smell
feels a little bitter, a little off but as the heat does 
its job the smell becomes one of familiarity and comfort

The potatoes are roasted, the beets have been diced 
the wine is poured and friends sit comfortably 
plates balanced on laps Coltraine, and Miles, and Adderly
playing on the radio, trumpets going up and down 
the drums in time to our flashing forks as we eat 
the wine replenished when our glasses are empty

Late, too late we sit into the night seeing midnight 
come and go and passing by one o'clock as well 
I drift as they continue talking the familiar smells and sounds 
of friendship and conversation lulling me and the beer 
and the wine drugging me they stay on talking
as I and the children drift off to sleep. 

Friday, November 7, 2014

Coffee House 
November 7th, 2014
Jason Murray

wrung out and 
hung out 
to dry
I feel tired
and used up
When will things
be easier
or is that the point
that they aren't 
meant to be 
My mind runs back 
to a day 
when I walked all night
because I had no 
where to go
but I did. 
I sat up and watched the 
sun light up the buildings
blowing on my hands 
to keep them warm
I sat quiet 
in that space 
grabbing a couple 
of minutes of sleep 
in the dark
stealing out at the 
last minute and walking 
some more
wrapped up as warm 
as I could be in my 
feeble coat.
repeated this night 
many years later
This time I had  
a room warm
and a bed inviting
but the keys to enter 
were in another part of town
in my friend's apartment
thrown high in his loft
I stole a few moments 
this time on the stairs
outside my door
why am I reminded of 
these times 
right now
why am I reminded 
of all these things 
in my past 
Why do I see
these memories 
right now
sitting in a coffee shop
with the warm smells 
of coffee and the 
comforting sounds 
of the grinder
is it that I have spent 
so many restless hours 
in the company of others
who just want to be wrapped
in the comfort of the local
coffee house?