Hey, Bartender! Over here!
I need another beer.
I’m trying to write a poem
in this crummy bar
before stumbling to my car
and heading to a home
where I’m forced to disappear.
Can’t write without a beer.


He found himself while on a journey of self-discovery.
What he selfishly discovered disturbed him.
He expected more,
much more of certain qualities,
much less of others.

He tried to turn away.
To stop looking.
But as hard as he tried, and he really did try,
he couldn’t turn his eyes away from himself.
Too bad.
If he had been paying attention
to something other than himself
he might’ve seen the cliff’s edge.
He might not have fallen.

Nevertheless, he fell.
Spread-eagled, twisting, twisted,
confused by the quick descent,
plunging through dark smoke,
passing through sporadic sounds of voices,
only to land upon the broken leavings of the fall.

Stepping in ghostly silence,
he sifted through the ashes of the site,
searching for something of value.
Finding nothing
he tucked away the remains of hope for possible re-appraisal at some distant time.
Uncertain when the distant time might occur.
he curled himself into a ball awaiting, dreading, inevitability.

Dear Life

Dear Life,
This concerns standing order 06221940.
I am in receipt of all ordered volumes, including the most current. All delivered exactly when due. They are timely, and easily indexed for archival study. Your contextual expertise, coupled with your inventiveness of presentation, consistently amazes me — with special notice to delightful Volumes 10 through 50. Indeed, commencing with the incredibly magical Volume 1, I have been a loyal and satisfied customer. You cannot imagine my dismay, therefore, to find that wondrous artisanship which defined your earlier works in serious decline. Truly, so great is the difference between then and now, I suspect an unannounced change of management and mission.
Contrasting to earlier Volumes, the latest additions contain irreparably torn pages, plus incomplete, and often incoherent text. Moreover, the most recent cover arrived frayed, crumpled, too damaged to fix.

I am deeply distressed.
Of course, I am aware you present no guarantees and that, by signing on with you, I acknowledged and accepted your policy of no returns, no refunds, and no substitutions. In light of your policies, therefore, I find little choice other than to cancel my standing order as of today.
Respectfully, a formerly happy customer

W. Colin McKay is  a California native, born and raised in the Golden State.  He loves to travel, however, he is always happy to return home.  Colin currently lives in Morro Bay with his wife Cary.