Chuck-a-luck

I met an old man that did not fear change.
The only change he did fear was that which would leave him behind,
leaving a world with no place for another old man.
He use to council youth,
now he moves plants from one pot to another.

Toddy and Morrow

Morrow Henny woke up late for work. He rolled off the couch and crawled to the bathroom. It was about noon. He threw up last nights liquor, rinsed his mouth out and looked in the mirror. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all except for the fact that his hair was matted down on one side and sticking up on the other. He looked a bad ten years older than he should.
He ambled into the living room and sat down on the couch he had passed out on the night before. Henny hadn't noticed his son sitting three feet in front of the t.v. until now.
Toddy, the seven year old boy, was watching the news on the only channel that had reception, though it came through with strips of electronic snow that made its way from the bottom of the screen to the top.
Toddy turned around, still sitting on the floor, and looked at his father. "Are you ok, Daddy? Are you sick?" asked the boy.
"No Toddy, Daddy is not ok. Yes Toddy, Daddy is sick."
"Why are you sick Daddy?"
"Daddy drank too many distilled potatoes." Toddy laughed at the thought of drinking a potato.
"Why did you drink a potato?"
"Do you feel sad when you are sick, Toddy?"
"Yes."
"Does medicine help when you are sick?"
"Yes"
"Well, Daddy was sad, so Daddy took medicine." Morrow found it easier to refer to himself in third person during conversations like this.
"And potatoes are medicine?" Toddy questioned.
"Yes Toddy, distilled potatoes are medicine."
"Do you still feel sick?"
"Very much so."
"...and sad?"
"That is why I am sick." Henny clenched his jaw, it hurt to refer to himself in first person.
"Do you need me to get your medicine?" asked Toddy.
"Thank you, but no." He stood. "Daddy can get it." His knees wobbled as he walked to the kitchen. He opened the cupboard above the refrigerator and removed a bottle of vodka. Cheap vodka. Henny poured a glass, then brought the bottle along with the full glass back to the couch. Drank down the medicine and poured another.
Toddy had turned his attention once again to the t.v. Morrow moved from the couch to the floor next to his son, in front of the t.v., bottle and glass in hand. "Why are you sad Daddy?"
"I... Daddy is sad because Mommy... went to the store." A tear rolled down his cheek.
"Don't be sad, Mommy always goes to the store. She will be back!" Toddy smiled.
Morrow managed a smile through the tears. "The store is a long long way away," he paused "too long."
"Mommy isn't coming back?"
"No Toddy, I don't think Mommy is coming back." He drank.
"Now I am sad too." said Toddy. Morrows body was now convulsing with sobs. "Can I have medicine?"
"No Toddy, don't ever have potato medicine and don't ever get sad."

Tod is now 25 and hasn't had either Morrows distilled medicine or even a potato since the day Mommy went to the store and Daddy missed work. But he does get sad from time to time.

Sans Paycheck

There are well dressed
people running to catch
their busses. With nice
clothes and two-hundred
dollar shoes. Carrying bags or
brief cases. I am wearing
soggy work boots. Clean faces
strained in hopes to make
their bus. Mine, dirty with
holes and stubble.
They make me feel bad for
myself, not about. I have a
big negative, one of these
suites' days work made
sure of it. And got paid a
similar sum, then spent it
in flashes.