• a humdinger •

You might find it ironic
for me to describe Chronic,
a story about death and dying,
as ‘a slice of life’.
In fact, throughout,
the question of ‘why?’,
and ‘why me?’,
seems pervasive,
and unanswerable,
which it is, except, for me,
‘and why not?’,
‘and why not (me)?’,
keeps rolling through my head,
Is it just me, I wonder,
or do others see this life
as an equal opportunity
or journey,
or what have you,
and that moral judgements
as to good or bad outcomes,
or of success or happiness,
and whatnot, cannot
truly be assessed
until after the final curtain falls,
so you’ll never know it yourself,
truth be told, friend,
being dead and all?
So, it’s a question for family,
and society,
and friends,
and ‘former friends’,
and what have you,
to make the call.
And honestly, who cares
what other people think, anywhoo?
So, don’t complain;
choose to be happy,
or fulfilled, or engaged,
or grateful, or enthralled,
or stoic, or philosophical,
or selfless, or starry-eyed,
or evangelical, or ‘evolved’ –
just between we two,
it’s up to you –
whatever floats your boat.
It’s a one way ride,
and frequently fabulous.
Enjoy the view.
Oh, and on a final note,
the movie (with Tim Roth),
is a humdinger, too.
~ Tim Burchfield


• change is inevitable •

• change is inevitable •
It’s just a silly little thing,
Though it’s not amounting to much,
It’s snowing outside again,
And I rather have my heart set on Spring.
It’s bound to come, with the Sun,
Along with buds, and green, and growing things.
For some reason, it calls to mind,
A certain Mr. Eaglestone,
Who used to meet me,
When I delivered his morning paper,
Every single day, with a greeting,
And a hearty grab, and holding it aloft, his prize, stalked to his front door, like a king:
He so looked forward to it,
Which I, frankly, never understood –
Mrs. Tessier was right,
It was just a ‘rag’, but he liked it,
That’s all that mattered to me.
I felt good. I felt proud,
Over such a little thing.
Strange, but heartening.
Then, one morning, in particular,
He had some news for me:
He’d had a minor heart attack,
He could no longer shovel the drive,
And had to sell his Upstate home,
Which he apparently loved,
And had felt “connected” here,
And now, was being forced,
By circumstance, to leave, and,
To repair to his summer home,
In Florida.
We’d never shared more than, “Good morning!” Generally.
And on the spur, I ejaculated,
(I usually say the first thing that occurs to me). “Well…”
“Change is inevitable.”
I don’t know why (I said that),
But his expression, changed,
And he didn’t, anymore, wait for me.
I never saw him again, after that, Mr. Eaglestone,
and he moved away, to Florida,
Like he said he would,
No big thing – but I have thought about that morning, over, and over again, inexplicably.
So, snow, today.
No big thing, just a little snow,
Come Spring.
I was right, I mean, I was, I mean,
It was a reasonable thing to say,
And I do believe it, wholeheartedly –
And yet, I do regret it,
Saying it, like that,
Dismissing the suffering heart,
“Change is inevitable.”
So cavalierly.
~ Tim Burchfield