REALITY THERAPY

Some nights I can’t fall asleep
because I’m still stuck
in lingering conversations
from the day before, imagining myself
telling people what I didn’t tell them,
telling people what I’m really thinking,
telling people what I really want to say.

Somewhere in that dark night
I fall asleep. I see myself sailing way beyond myself,
sailing across unknown seas.
I see my Illiads and my Odysseys,
heading for new ports – escaping to places
where life is the way I dream it could be.

Suddenly the alarm screams
like a fog horn in the harbor.
I have to get out of bed
and do those everyday things
sailors need to do and then
pull up anchor and set sail for
a new day. Reality Therapy.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

ABOUT TIME


It was the first time
in a long time
that I had some time,
so it was a good time,
this time.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

GATE 43

Muffled commotions from the loudspeaker,
then the motions of people quickly standing,
gathering their children and their crayons,
telling me your plane just landed,
but my emotions were the loudest loudspeaker.
You’re almost here, almost home, almost.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

HOW LONG?

As we were walking around
the mile or so lake,
he was asking me questions.
Luckily I guessed he was really
talking out loud to himself.

“How long am I going to keep on
wallowing in my own mess?”

“How long am I going to keep
on repeating these same mistakes?”

“How long will it be before I can learn to

forgive myself for so much wasted time in my life?”

“How long do I want to sit
in my own s…?” It rhymed.

We were walking and walking.
He kept talking and talking.

We came to a beginning,
so I asked, “Do you want to walk
around the lake again?

He said, “Of course.
Thanks.”

And I said to myself,
“Well maybe by talking,
he was beginning to walk away from it all.”

Then the inner thought,
“I guess this is what friends are for….”

Then the afterthought,
“How long before I’ll be the one
walking in his shoes.”

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

ICE CUBE

Caught in the confines
of this glass….
Sort of stuck in here.
Clinging to the top,
just floating,
listening, wondering,
refusing to sink,
dying to get out of here.
Looking through the glass
I know what’s out there.….
Seeing so many others
in this same situation …
floating here and there …
shaking at times.
Too many times
it really doesn’t feel
like a happy hour to me.
Wondering: is this it?
Is this what it’s all about?
Formed, created
in the refrigerator womb,
then clunked out here
into this world, floating, melting….
Then do I disappear into
the vast place called, “Nowhere”
or God am I missing something?

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

PARTY PERSON

All alone in a crowded room,
a drink in my hand….
Do they call this the cocktail hour
before the big meal or is now
called preprandials?
How do you spell that?
Is it preprandial or pre-prandial?
Knowing nobody,
feeling like the stain
I just left when I put my glass
with ice down for a moment
on a wooden book shelf along
the wall of this enormous library
looking room. “Uh oh!” I uttered
or muttered out loud,
but nobody heard me.
"Ooops.!" A waitress did.
With a smile on her face,
with napkins in one hand
she wiped up the circle of my stain.
Then she offered me
tiny toothpicked hors d’oeuvres
on the silver platter in her other hand.
I took one piece of something
and said “Thank you!”
I looked at the big toothpick
that shishkabobed the “something”
and wondered about the
yellow cellophane paper
on the end of these toothpicks.
How do they make these toothpicks?
When she walked away
I looked at the wooden shelf.
No damage. “Phew!”
No ring was left behind.
Sometimes I wish disappearing
with a napkin wipe would work
as easy for me. But only sometimes....

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009

NEGATIVES

After Mass, standing there,
shaking so many hands
of so many folks shooting by,
“Hi!” “Good sermon.” “Thanks!”

Unfortunately, I’m human, so
I only remember negative comments.

“Too long!” “Can I make a suggestion?”
“No clue to what you were talking about!”

But today was different.
This lady stopped and said,
“Liked your sermon
on what it means
to be human.
You didn’t mention anything negative.
Liked that. Thanks.”

And off she went.
What a great sermon! Thanks Lady.
I still thinking about what you said.

© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009