Joe Swanson

“Play It Again” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #101

They were twins. They weren’t identical twins, physically lookin, but in all other ways one could be exchanged for the other and no one that can’t see could tell them apart. One of the things, and there were many, that could drive you to distraction, was their ability to echo one another’s thoughts. Robert having been born first I believe inherited the predominant quality that goes with those that are first, and Roger always the echo, the shadow, a faint breath behind his brother where speech was concerned, a close second.  So...

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“It's On Me” by Joe Swanson

“Hey! It’s you.” “Well, yes it is. And it’s you.” “I should apologize; I can’t remember your name.” “Don’t be foolish. Half the time I can’t remember it either.” We laugh. He believes most things these days. I told him I owned the diner and do all the cooking. I pretend I can’t remember either. It seems to make him more comfortable. I don’t run the diner or cook anymore. Only cooking I do is in my mind. Just this morning I made eggs Benedict. Tasted just like I thought it would. I used to coo...

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“Purpose” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #100

“We are gathered here today to attempt a new approach to weight loss. Many of us have over the years grown more than fond of ourselves, if you know what I mean. Eating disorders come in all shapes and flavors.” That is when everyone laughed and I began to dream about the days when metabolism could be blamed for everything. No longer an option for weight loss, weight gain, weight manipulation, all are fair game when it comes to indoctrinating us with the notion we are not perfect. We of course know we are not perfect and that i...

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“Difficult” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #100

It’s difficult preparing a meal for someone you don’t know all that well; actually at all. I met her quite by accident. Well not quite as you might imagine. She ran over me with her bicycle. Nice bike, older Schwinn with balloon tires. Said it was her mother’s when she was herself. I let it go at that. It was all her fault. People on bicycles believe they have the same rights as cars, which I get. But then cars don’t usually drive on the side walk.  I was waiting on the corner, looking up the street to see...

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“Alfonse” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #100

I was supposed to meet him at “Randy’s,” a bar restaurant kind of place. Mostly neighborhood folks. Once in a while some wayfarers, bikers, those passing by and seeing the sign and figuring, “Why not!” There is this cowboy, like the Marlboro man type you see along the road on the building’s roof. A silhouette of a figure cut out of metal just standing there head down, as if waiting for the hangman to show up and read last rites. It has a revolving thing like we used to have on our Christmas tree that splashes it with the color...

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“Difficult” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #100

It’s difficult preparing a meal for someone you don’t know all that well; actually at all. I met her quite by accident. Well not quite, she ran over me with her bicycle.  It was a nice bike, older Schwinn with balloon tires. Said it was her mother’s when she was herself. I let it go at that. It wasn’t all her fault, but then of late people on bicycles think they have the same rights as cars, which I get. But then cars don’t usually ride on the side walk.  Anyways, I was waiting on the corner, looking to see...

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“Remember When...” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #99

“Well, do you?”“No, I try not to remember, it is easier that way.”“Do you remember the time we went off seeking to be lost? Escape the implied pressures; jobs, family, us?”I did remember, but couldn’t, no, didn’t want to admit that the past makes me nostalgic for something that may never have existed, except in my mind.“Yes, I remember falling up.”“Falling up? What does that mean?”It is a feeling. We take memories from our past and purposely embellish or detract from their reality to make them acceptable for our needs. Th...

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“Road Trippin” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #99

“Where are we to go? Every year it becomes the question I fear, as there is no agreeable destination. Planning has a way of destroying the very thing you wish to accomplish. Spontaneity is one way to invoke the intended hope of something poignant, interesting, different than last year, or the year before that…but it always seems to end with having forgot something. Or something happening you hadn’t anticipated, which of course you would have had, had it not been for the newly acquired spontaneity. Then there is the c...

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“The Long and Short of It” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #99

I remember a time when they lied to us, of course they did. Lying is part of their persona. It tells us in not-so-subtle ways, that we are not intelligent enough to understand the diverse problems they are forced to deal with, on our behalf. I can understand that rationale, even if I don’t agree with it. Arrogance and assumptions make good bed fellows, if you are stuck in Alaska in an igloo with your worst enemy, and survival has become your shared goal.But things have changed, but then they always do. Somewhere in t...

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“End of Time” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #99

Standing on the sand, fresh, a new beginning, knowing that no matter what trespasses on the day, it will be different tomorrow. Wiped clean by the tide of a new day, the imprints of a previous time, only a memory of those who left them. We stand watching as the ocean has ceased to roll as it once did. It no longer brings in the hope and promise it once did, now, it brings only questions, when answers are what we crave, need.I marvel at the lavender colored sky. The future not bright enough to burn off the disappointment t...

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“Unplugged” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #99

I had never met Abernathy Holcomb. I had registered the usual assortment of ancillary references, rather statements, that he was either a genius or and idiot. Having been taught to differ judgement until having at least tasted the soup, I put the lid back on, and reserved the right to judgement for a later time.As life often does, it provides the means necessary to take a stab at fulfilling the improvisational requirements we set for ourselves. I am introduced to Abernathy, who seems at the time, either concerned with the worl...

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“Truth Be Told” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #98

“You can’t go home again? What does that mean? I know about the esoteric meaning, and all the nonsense that goes with it, but you can’t go home again, sounds like a…I don’t know what, but ominous when you think about it.” “And why would that be? I can see circumstances where you couldn’t go home, or not want to. I’ve had more than my share of times like that. But those are usually a temporary stalling mechanism until you can decide if it is safe to show yourself.” “So you were afraid of something?”  “It was noth...

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“Dreams End” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #98

“I had the most incredible dream. It was one of those dreams, or whatever you wish to call it, that is so real, you find yourself questioning the genuineness of the dream itself. That ever happen to you?” He just sat there. Didn’t say a word. Just stared at the floor as if he were expecting it to disappear, or move or something. I began to become worried, as that was not like him at all. He usually is conversive, even at times when you wish he’d just shut up and be quiet. I wasn't really seeking conversatio...

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“River's Edge” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #98

I knew a guy once; his name was Nick Rivers. He showed me a story that I didn’t believe at the time, but it helped fill the space I found myself in. Thinking back to that day, I can see where I was, and where he was coming from, what he was attempting to tell me by his silence: I was living at the time along the Salmon River. It is a place as far from reality as I could get. I guess using the word living, would be a stretch. I was existing, escaping, all the imperfectness of a world I had nothing to do with creating,...

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“Disappearing Rainbows” by Joe Swanson

Submitted to Contest #98

Have you ever felt as though the sun is setting, and it is setting on you. They tell me it is depression, but I don’t know that I believe everything they tell me, they have agendas. I have an agenda as well, but I doubt it is compatible with theirs. I have tried explaining my feelings. I am under a spell cast on all those that were born at a particular time, under a particular planet alignment, but they tell me that is just an excuse for my feelings of inadequacy, my lack of self-esteem. I wasn’t even aware I had any...

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