"And so we began to eat the pemmican, which we were taught to make by the Eskimo's you know." Andrew paused to sip his tea. "Dreadfully cold though. I was assisting Sir Edmund Hillary and, to bolster the morale of our men, I began to do scrimshaw on whale bones we had lying about."

"Did you reach the Pole, then?"

"Oh, heh heh, yes, yes we did. As a matter of fact, Nelson took my picture standing next to Hillary beneath the Union Jack at the Pole itself."

"Nelson?" These biscuits were great, especially with orange marmalade.

"Lord Nelson MacKenzie, the duck I mentioned earlier."

"Oh yes, you were watching butterflies for him."

"Observing, my good man, scrupulously observing. I was seeking the Thymelicus lineola and the Apatura iris to be precise."

Andrew spread some calf's-foot jelly on his biscuit, taking a large bite once he had done so.

"Did I mention that Her Majesty requested an audience with Lord Nelson and myself, upon our return to Great Britain?"

"No!"

A broad smile spread across his face. "The Queen herself. And the Duke of Edinburgh and Edward VIII was there as well. I always admired Edward's fashion sense. We wore the same size shoe, you know."

He paused to motion for our waitress. "It was a formal affair that day mind you, what with the Queen granting Lord Nelson and myself as Knight Grand Cross of the Most Distinguished Order of St. Michael and St. George."

He laughed as he added,  "You should see Philip and Edward on the Old Course at St. Andrews. Quite the duffers they are."

I hastily snatched the check from Andrew's wing. "No my friend, I'll pay."

"Nonsense! I put our lunch on my running account when I arrived. This is merely for my records."

"Why thank you, sir."

"Not at all, my good man, not at all." he assured me with a smile.

1840 to 1915.
A mere 74 years.
The span of one's hand-breadth
And nothing more.

What toils, cares, hopes and dreams,
Came to fruition or died in obscurity,
In that soliloquy ?

Alone, he speaks to the ocean:
"Do you hear my voice? Do you regard
The trifling events of my life?"

So short a time to live and breathe
The air.
To admire the flowers or a sunset
In it's golden hour.

It is for a brief moment
That we sow.
Yet we shall reap forever...

I. It's a drugstore night
In a sundown town
The background is
That long, low sound.

Which moans across the
Windswept plains
Hear the grass sighing
Neath' halcyon blue.

Softly treading o'er the stars
Nightingale eyes peer
Into my sunbleached soul
Relic of ash and smoke.


II.  Cities gleam
Burning copper in
Evening sunlight
Glass facades become
Technicolor mirrors
As lines of clouds
Trundle to their trains.

Whisking them away to lonely castles
The trains run on and on
Humming their electric lullabies
That no mother ever sang.


III. Neon sign spitting sparks
On the rainy pavement
Umbrella-wielding denizens
Passing by...
Where are these souls going?
What empty rooms await them?

Chipped-Formica table
Post-historical artifact
Preserved in fluorescent stasis
It holds my arms as a friend
While I sip my coffee black.

Drugstore archaeologist
Exhuming old vinyl dreams
Of palm-lined beaches...

While ninety feet below
The singing trains with purloined hearts run,
I sit with my Fire King mug of java
In this oasis
And remember...


IV. I remember green lawns
Where strong maple sentries
Stood guard
Their knighted plumage bold
In shining reds and golds.

Sunlit bedroom upon pillow sleeping
Lay my head in dreams keeping
Soft light entering, saying good morning
Wind chimes gossiping to the breeze
Of secrets too splendid for man to know.

Lying there, in cool sheets sublime
Hearing birds chirping their joy to the LORD
For bringing the dew upon the viridian blades
Stretching away into woods and fields and streams.

(Too young to know yet
Of the rain-folk who haunt
The sidewalks outside this drugstore)

Scents of toast and Folgers greeted me
Dust motes spun lazily in the rays
That hit the table
Beckoning me to come outside and play.


V. And out the door I strode
With naught' a care in the world
In the deep grass I could see miracles
Hidden songs of woodland sirens

Whose tears I longed to see
Sparkling as diamonds in the sun.
I would rescue them swiftly
And dry their sapphire eyes.

The Boreal winds brought news of the North
Where iron men strove with fierce saws
In lumber camps frequented by Paul and his ox.

Don Quixote, John Henry and Davy Jones
Alice, the Tin Man and the Jack of Spades
In their handsome company I roamed
By ice-cold creeks and sand banks
Fighting pirates till lunch time

When we all called truce
And I listened to tales
Of barquentines on the Spanish Main
Rum-fired and cannon bold
In the briny deep with chests of gold.


VI. A drugstore night
In a sundown town
One day I'll lay me in the ground
Beneath the clover and lilac bloom
Safe from blizzard and fiery noon
In eternity's rolls I'll reside
With long missed loved ones
By my side
And if the day should ever come
When again I see a setting sun
I'll remember this drugstore

And these moaning winds...