The Celestial Diner

Satchmo singing”What a wonderful world” in a corner of the 1950’s themed diner that never closes down

a mythical diner that attracts great musicians and singers from all around

Jelly Roll Morton rubbing elbows with Duke Ellington at the red bar

the two legends watching Buddy Holly perform from afar

Little Richie, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Fats Domino

hanging out but looking for somewhere else to go

Roy Orbison and Elvis Presley

looking over at Billie Holiday and Peggy Lee

Diane Ross and Janis Joplin playing Liar’s Dice

while old Blue Eyes, Frank Sinatra, tries to be nice

so he can stay in this musical paradise

The Last Train

(158 words- flash fiction/poetry)

He waited impatiently on the wooden bench in front of the one-room train depot that sat in the middle of nowhere sweating in the high desert air, when he heard a faint whistle…

Dust devils danced gleefully in the distance, forerunners for a giant sandstorm gathering in the West, but the man was unimpressed, as he stared like he was possessed…

… into the direction of the whistle which grew louder with each heartbeat, and soon he could see a train through the shimmering heat, as he got to his feet, ready to board and take the back seat…

as the train idled and plumes of steam shrilly screamed with the whistle’s urgent blast, the man moved fast to get aboard and ignored the other passengers who looked bored…

There was no need to look back as they went down the track with their memories already fading with the light, something new was just ahead in the gathering night.

****

Seeking Serenity #1

when it comes to

seeking serenity

each one of us has

a choice to make

a path to take

sometimes serendipity

determines fate

on our trail

resulting in

an eternal

fairytale

In The Center

what’s in your center?

an enlightening epiphany

or more?

discovering your inner core?

a place to safely explore?

some say

the soul is your center

and gateway

to your spirit

that follows a pathway

up a celestial stairway

to heaven

but I wouldn’t know

I have a wayward soul

that wanders alone

seeking the center

of the universe

and it’s secrets

but

I still wonder why

I can never go home

no matter how hard I try

The Awakening

after a century the first thing I could see

was a replica of me staring with curiosity

we looked at one another

trying to discover

the mystery

it didn’t take long

to understand what was wrong

when I blinked an eye

so did the other guy

and it became clear

I was looking up into a mirror

and there was no reason for fear

but when I stood up

I heard a hidden gear

instead of my heart

there was a moving part

instead of skin

I had something akin

that gleamed in the light

and gave me a fright

until I realized I was still alive

even if my body didn’t survive

Still Dancing In My Mind

my old legs with gimpy knees and gait

don’t allow me to move freely

because they ache

but it doesn’t stop me

from dancing in my mind

where I’m free

of earthly constraints

and physical limitations

that bring complaints

but I hear rock and roll

and keep on dancing

to please my soul!

The Fickle Gods Own Bartender

600 words –

“I’ll have a scotch on the rocks when your done serving those sissies at the end of the bar!” a belligerent customer bellowed.

Willie the bartender glanced over his shoulder at the loudmouth on the other end of the bar while continuing to serve the two men beer and pretzels.

He’d seen his type before. A mean drunk. Rather than violently kick him out, which he had every right to do, Willie walked over to him and looked him straight in the eye. Something in his stare caused the rowdy customer to instantly calm down.

“You sure you haven’t had enough for the night buddy?” he asked. The would-be customer slid off the bar stool and muttered that he was taking his business elsewhere as his unsteady legs propelled him towards the door.

In Willie’s world, the bar was a waiting room for restless souls, not yet gone on to any reward, and not likely too either. The tortured souls who sat at his bar looked for advise and solace. They were confused and he found that most were looking for heaven. They came to the bar to learn about their next step in the process of passing from one life to another.

They told him their life stories over shots of tequila and whiskey; wondering why their drinks didn’t make the misery of this alcoholic purgatory disappear.

Then there were those carefree souls who laughed and partied through the endless nights, calling Willie, “St. Peter,” and begging him to escort them through invisible Pearly Gates. But it wasn’t Willie’s job. All he was supposed to do was listen and offer his two-cents worth while serving endless alcoholic drinks.

Long ago Willie realized his karma was damaged beyond repair. That was why the gods (there had to be more than one) put him where he was. A lifelong alcoholic who drank himself to death and was resurrected as a messenger between worlds. What irony. The gods sense of humor was impossible for Willie to understand. He was a hostage for eternity.

One day all that changed.

The god of chaos sent other deities spinning through dimensions and worlds unborn, in a burst of cosmic energy that tore souls loose from the places they were stuck. Adrift, the souls turned to space, eagerly looking for new landings. New starts.

Willie found himself on earth again. It was 1923 and he owned a whiskey distillery that supplied gangsters from Chicago to New York. As he watched the last truck pull out, packed with crates of his signature booze, Willie had a nagging feeling that the good times weren’t going to last. He was rich beyond his wildest dreams, but business was just too good to walk away from. Besides, he felt alcohol was part of his destiny. His rise to glory.

Willie was on to something. He just didn’t realize it then.

When the mobsters attacked his distillery one night he was killed playing a game of poker with his two bodyguards. His suddenly rich wife buried him quietly.

Dimensions shifted. Alternate universes collided. The gods fought for time and space. New worlds were springing up in far away solar systems. Galaxies groaned as solar systems stretched and contracted, collecting stars like seashells on earth’s beaches.

And Willie found himself pouring a beer from behind a long mahogany bar while listening to a sad soul’s story. He sighed because he knew it was going to take a very long time.

The gods shrill laughter echoed throughout the heavens, and meteors continued to scream through outer space on a mission to mock mankind.