Joe Swanson

“The Drawing Room ” by Joe Swanson

    “Would anyone care to talk about your experience on Goat Island?     Don’t everyone volunteer at once. We discussed this before we went. You were to sketch, scribble, whatever way you chose, depending upon talent that you possess, to describe, record, the impact the environment of the island had on you. Anyone like to step up and show us what you experienced?”     As straightforward as the requested assignment was, they all espoused a similar reluctant response.&n...

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“Twilight” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #131

    The light was not good. It never is in late afternoon before the street lamps come on, and the darkness has exposed its intention.  The last remnants of the day left to debate their departure.      I sit on a bench that overlooks the pond. The sunset, when one is realized, snared by the pool, divided into prisms of promise, and sent into the darkness, escape. It was on just such an evening that I noticed him, her, it, for the first time. Normally people avoid the park ...

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“Ducks in a Row” by Joe Swanson

    Being in a crowd gives one a sense of anonymity, or the possibility of one. Hiding in plain sight is usually successful unless someone is looking for you, or circumstance shines that light on you. It was what happened that day. I cannot say I was hiding, or that she was looking for me, but either way, the light did shine on me.     Like most people trapped by circumstance, crowds, trains, buses, I pull my shell around me, keep my eyes occupied with the character of the floor, and for...

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“Nameless” by Joe Swanson

   “Hey, You!”     “Who… Me?”     “Who’d you think I was talking to. See anyone else around?”     “You want to see me around? What does that mean?”     “What are you talking about? Are you hard of hearing?”     This exchange went on for quite some time. I sat under a tree by the bus stop waiting to see if an altercation would ensue. Escalation, because of uncertainty, has become a new normal that we have...

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“Innocuity Takes Many Forms” by Joe Swanson

     “You remember that Vonnegut book about making everyone equal, so as not to make anyone feel inferior? Had nothing to do with talent or ones inclination to work hard to achieve whatever one believed to be your calling. It had to do with digressing, not progressing.     Do you realize if we were all the same, how boring life and those in the parade would be? And that is what this new edict is really all about, an effort to distill the political and social split between peopl...

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“Lou” by Joe Swanson

    “Look at this! Someone must have lost a bag of clothes or just got tired of haulin them around. Clothes all over the street. Look here! A shirt with a name printed on the inside of the collar, Lou. People still write their names on their clothes?  Why? Someone runnin around stealin clothes off the line or out of your closet when you ain’t lookin? Do you put your name on things? Whatcha think, someone goin to find something with the name Abe on it and know who Abe is? Man, I...

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“What?” by Joe Swanson

“What do you do for a living?” The question that makes you question who you are, were, want to be? It is not that I’m embarrassed by what I do, although I am. Not so much embarrassed really, as ashamed. Not because of what I do, but because of I’ve been told I am capable of doing better. I went to one of those job fair events where businesses attempt to recruit people who are congruent with their mission. Their mission depends on what their policy concerning what performance and corporate attitude imbues. Althou...

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“Dreams End” by Joe Swanson

I don’t know how it happened. Providence, luck, fate, I still can’t make sense of it, and yet here I am, in charge of dreams.  I had assumed no one wanted the job. Too many dreams, like wishes, that were made upon a star, and just couldn’t be granted. But who says. You know how people get when they don’t really want someone to get something because they can’t have it themselves. Selfish it seems to me. There are plenty of dreams to go around. Not that I envy anyone’s dreams, or believe I deserve something t...

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“Whom?” by Joe Swanson

“To whom it may concern.” I had to admit I hadn’t expected such an abrupt beginning to a typical Monday, but then things have been going downhill since the meteor predicted to hit the coast missed us entirely, and ended up hitting the former Soviet Union, nearly causing WWIII.  Something about the unforeseen that because of its distractive tendency places abnormally awkward images in your mind. I once had a dream about the first chimpanzee sent into space. I remember it like it was yesterday, and yet it was over sixty years ag...

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“Sounds Good” by Joe Swanson

   James Piquet roamed the basement passages of the building. The silence, although one reason management found it difficult to keep a maintenance professional employed, was not the only reason.    Urban legend had christened the Callahan Building, “haunted.” Most dismissed the unseemly sounds as the result of antiquated pipes and echo- chambered hall ways. James Piquet was neither disturbed nor enlightened by the sounds, as he was deaf. James found being deaf a most positive altern...

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“Dear Chelsea” by Joe Swanson

Thought I should write and let you know why I won’t be attending our school reunion this fall. 9-11 has always been one of those days that reminds me of the time we thought jalapeno peppers were those funny looking tomatoes that are supposed to be used for sauce. I’m not sure I any longer have taste buds, but then life is rarely what we perceive it to be. I don’t know who chose that date, perhaps someone ignorant, or possibly for its convenience, but it seems somehow inappropriate to celebrate or torture oneself on that day, and I ...

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“Miss Representation” by Joe Swanson

“Have you ever been here before?”“No dear. I’ve always wanted to come for years, but you know how life is. You keep putting things off until…well when George passed, he wasn’t much for art or museums, he’d rather go to a ball game or car race. Me, I hated the noise and the crowds, just too many people. These places are more intimate. I enjoy the history, thinking back what it must have been like to be living in a sod hut on the prairie or in a tree, so you wouldn’t become somethings lunch. Maybe I make too big a...

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“Explained” by Joe Swanson

Explain“Can you explain this to me?”When angry, he pretends to be someone he is not. He doesn’t know how to get angry. It isn’t his fault. Our mother was a saint, our father, wasn’t.It could have been he inherited his inability to become angry from my mother, or he realized because of my father’s reaction to about everything, he didn’t want to be like him. If I had to find a reason for his unwavering placidity, I would venture a guess that it was a combination of the two. A learning experience that alters your outloo...

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“Dare to Remember” by Joe Swanson

The thought of being dared, dragged me back to the purposely forgotten time of childhood. The bus rides to school, the long slow walk towards the back, following that black rubber tongue licking the orange ribbed metal floor that led towards the one known as, “Larry.”Larry was a girl who grew abnormally large for her age. Her name was actually Loraine, but no one dared call her that. She demanded to be called Larry for some unknown reason; no one dared to ask. She was the referenced, "get out of bed on the wrong side," ty...

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“Lying to Yourself” by Joe Swanson

for good reason.They, by they I mean everybody that has ever given me advice, told me to believe in myself. If I don’t, no one else will. They say it is the one factor I need obtain if I wish to be a success, or be content to accept inevitable failure. What a terrible scenario, and yet I know there is truth in what they say. I believe they even mean well. But then they don’t know me. It is just another one of those collective feel-good statements that gets repeated over and over until it become true.I know there are ...

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