Speak slowly and carry a big dream.

wake me when it's over.

you
are a film
with breathtaking cinematography
& a mindblowing soundtrack.

it's a shame the dialogue is less than stimulating
& the plot also leaves something to be desired.

watching you,
i fell
in love
into a trap

asleep.

Can you imagine?

Hey Opster.

Today it's been a year since you've left us.
But I know if I saw you now, the first thing you'd say is
"Howdy doody!"
And you'd tell me about all the phenomenal things you've seen
since we spoke last.
And you'd ask,
"Can you imagine???"

You know, I only knew you for 22% of your life.
But, at the time, you knew me for all of mine...
so it's okay.

I'd expect you're still wearing that same brown vest everyday
with your York Dukes baseball cap.
But I'll bet you don't worry about dangerous fungus

taking over the world anymore.
Or the Russians.
We still hear the shuffling of your slippers around the house.
It's not that creepy. We kind of like it.
I will still always expect there to be a puzzle in progress on your table
and it will always be "Opa's room."
Your rooms were always my favorite rooms.
I don't think I will ever feel as comfortable anywhere as long as I live.
I loved finding your silverware in our drawer
because it was just another excuse to go back to your part of the house.
You made our dogs fatter
but our cat happier.
All the mausers miss you.
And I miss Lithuanian phone calls and newspapers
and the 10:00 news too loud when we were trying to sleep.
I might even miss the incessant weather updates

for other parts of the country
and the weird smells of the food you cooked.
And I also miss that little bus coming by
to take you, in your suit, to lunch.
Why did you always wear that suit to go out???
Even on scorchingly hot days!?!
I'm sorry for never putting on socks

when you told us we'd get sick if we didn't.
Even though that never made us sick,

we could have just done it.
But... you could have just put your teeth in too...
and you rarely did that, so... I guess we're even.

I'm sorry Kai broke your typewriter
and that he sometimes slept in your bed when he was little
because he was scared of being alone.

And I'm sorry for not being home

for your last and 90th birthday.
Why did we even go to Hermann that one year?
We still aren't sure, but we hope you liked it.

I'm also still not sure why

you would sometimes ask us for ice cream
even though you hated all things cold.
No ice in your drinks.
"Sippy sippy Mississippi."

Another thing I don't know
is why my mom considered you a suitable supervisor
when we wanted to go in the pool.
But now that I think of it,
maybe she meant for us to watch each other.

Thanks for always picking up the sticks in the backyard.
And giving us root beer and candy
(even though some of us hated it).
And thanks for always letting us play with your magnifying glass
and pretend your footstool was a boat.

I'm so glad you got to meet all your grandchildren.
When we told you the thriteenth was born you said
"A dozen is a dozen but thirteen is more."
Ain't that the truth.

You can remember things now, I'd assume.
Do you remember when we got out the video camera
and asked you what advice you had?
You told us to go on a walk
until we found a really good tree.
And you told us to climb it;
that we'd never regret it.

I think that's the best advice I've ever gotten.

You sure did love walks,
even though you were really slow at them.
And you sure did love trees... and trimming them.
Good grief.
I'm sorry that we hid your saw so many times
but you really needed to calm down about those trees.
If there's any forestry where you are
I'm sure it's perfectly pruned.

About a Sign

A bridled tongue
And sundipped pen
Will try to fight for me again--

Through every day that I'll have passed
As long as frigid tremors last
To reach the depths of what I know
(To the extent that it is so)
I'll practice wholly thinking of
The time and space continuum
And hopefully with fist clenched pain
Can stumble out of dreary frame
And into lighted world unknown
By any other than a throne

The bleakness of my eyes' report
Is murdered by my heart's contort
Envisioning acceptance of
The world I know in swing because
Of thoughts and deeds done not by I
But rather, wholesome friend nearby
And I will rest in full despite
The treachery in sound and sight
And inhale every inch that's brought
And finally make love with thought
That books are penned and songs are sung
Indifferent of my breaths when young

I feel its warmth but see it not
(The day the answer is begot)
And clouded mind will finally cease
Disturbing every shred of peace
I will resemble each remark
However wretched, shrewed, or stark
And own my own as given by
A magic giver in the sky
I'll all at once begin to shout
How sea and sky could do without
The story of mistaken trust
Obliterating every "must"

How bittersweet of this conclusion
To coax me from the rash illusion
That I am fully worthy of
The first five movements from above
I'll feel and know when time is best
That my whole vanity's a jest

Were I to wake to find the ground
I walked upon was still around
And tree and rock not marred nor scathed
Positions perfectly arranged
First witnessing the plans unfold
Each plant and person rightly told
Here all exist were I not me
And where I am is where I'll be.