The first man on earth must have been a blonde.
Working outside all day long will do that to your hair.
And there was no inside then. My grandmother, who
worked on a farm, was also blonde until the day she died.
And until that day, she worked hard with the cattle and
the horses and had sinewy muscles of steel. At night she
would drink barley wine and dye her hair grey. She wasn’t
my real grandmother. Yet her hair was as beautiful as her
muscles and my lies.
I build little caskets for everything. Birds I see in the sky, donuts I find in the trash bins, people I barely remember. I even build little caskets for caskets. And caskets for their little caskets.
THE VERY OLD TV SHOWS
Sometimes only a few people would applaud. Sometimes only
one person will laugh. You don’t know who they are because
you never see them. There is always a chance that you know
their grandchildren. Or that you once saw one of them on
a bus and thought, “My, how old she is!” Her laugh sounds
the same on a bus as it did on TV. It seems like she can
laugh anywhere. She is laughing on the bus. She was perhaps
laughing this morning as she walked towards the bus.
Perhaps one day she will laugh in outer space, watching
an old TV show that no one else laughs at. Smoking a cigar
like crazy old laughing people often do in the cosmos.
Ricky Garni was born and raised in Miami and Maine. He works as a graphic designer by day, and writes music by night. His work is widely available in print, on the Web and in a number of anthologies, and has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize on six occasions.