My Lighthouse Keeper

100 Word Wednesday: Week 15

Image Credit: Bikurgurl

♥♥♥

The lighthouse keeper was my first love.

Everything about his work, manner, quiet brevity of speech—and wind-blushed cheeks—fascinated me, made me tingly whenever I thought of him.

When I’d see him by “arranged happenstance”, my knees turned to jelly, just drinking in his fine mature handsomeness.

I learned that if I posed intelligent questions, I could keep him talking an hour, more.

Often I asked about astronomy, mythology, sailing, art—for he was a man formerly of the sea, who painted canvases in his leisure.

The lighthouse keeper was my only love.  His ghost comes on the fog.

© R L Cadillac, 2017 ~ All rights reserved.

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Table For One, Please

100 Word Wednesday: Week 14

 Image Credit: Anjo Beckers Photography

~~~

Douglas and I come to Ryan’s Best, weekly—occasionally more often, if he’s bent on telling me his latest genius idea, or to vent about whatever has him aggrieved.  Up or down, Douglas is loquacious; I suspect he’s bi-polar. 

Certainly he’s egocentric, narcissistic—though usually likeable.  He believes himself possessed of superb mental health…because his therapist finds him “fascinating”.

He talks on and on, and I employ my ability to appear engrossed while actually pondering a separate topic entirely—specifically the next table, the old gentleman always sitting alone.  Wondering if he’s lonely, heedful, I’m tempted to join him.

© R L Cadillac, 2017 ~ All rights reserved.

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Papa’s Rodeo Road

100 Word Wednesday: Week 12

Image Credit: Samantha Scholl

~~~

Wild horses couldn’t ride me away

But you carry my heart in your hip pocket

So I, too, follow the circuit

Watch from front-row seats, hand over eyes

Peeking through fingers

As their maned addictive wildness

Drags you through arena dirt

While you chase saddle bronc championship

What’s a gold buckle worth?

‘Everything’, your steel blue gaze replies

Jeans, shirts, spare boots—I pack again

In gear bag—spurs, rope, rosin

Dry my tears so you won’t see

Climb in truck beside you—then

Grin, declare:  “we’ll win Finals this year”

You stroke my cheek…”let’s get to rodeoin'”.

© R L Cadillac, 2017 ~ All rights reserved.

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Lake Delusion

100 Word Wednesday: Week 11

Image Credit: Matias Larhag

~~~

It was where we fell in love—I did, anyway; lovely Shangri-la, waters which reflected our private world, mirroring happiness and thoughts of forever.

I didn’t mind that you were older—you made me feel like a woman of the world, and you said I kept you young.  Every day shimmered…the nights, oh how they shone.

Then you were gone—winter descended, became an icecap on passion’s volcano.

I’ve returned only twice since your death.  Peering into the lake, I see an old deluded relict* staring back—tears rippling down her rippled cheeks, like mourning rain unrestrained.

~~~

(*relict, archaic—a woman whose husband is dead, especially one who has not remarried)

© R L Cadillac, 2017 ~ All rights reserved.

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Saga in Tapestry

100 Word Wednesday: Week 10

Image Credit: Bikurgurl

~~~

It was a special day—my sister’s tapestry would be unveiled and displayed at the university.  She’d been working on it arduously for four semesters, and hoped to win department honors, state-wide recognition, a cash prize and perhaps a coveted position on the faculty after graduation.

Students and staff alike gathered in the auditorium.  Chit-chat quieted as the tapestry was unrolled with deliberate—or unconsciously dramatic—slowness.

I was in the front row, of course—and fortunate—so that my shock might be better concealed.  There, in exquisite hues of rich floss, was the saga of our mercilessly nightmarish childhood.

© R L Cadillac, 2017 ~ All rights reserved.

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Missing Woman ~ 100WW

100 Word Wednesday: Week 9

Image Credit: Toa Heftiba

~~~

Though nervous, she had agreed to join the search.  The missing woman was part of her community—could easily have been her.  She was terrified of discovering a body—if indeed the woman was now dead, as everyone suspected but wouldn’t say.

She’d bundled up against the cold.  Maybe if there was a body to be found, it would be frozen, less horrifying to behold…perhaps.

Somehow she’d gotten separated from the other searchers—and hearing odd sounds, she peeked between branches.  Paralyzed, breath held, she observed a man digging a hole…beside it, a corpse bound with bungee cords.

© R L Cadillac, 2017 ~ All rights reserved.

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Broke-down Palace

100 Word Wednesday: Week 8

ww100_w8-frank_jansen

Image Credit: Frank Jansen

~~~

Broke-down Palace, strangers call it—

Judgment of blind, arrogant outsiders.

They’re impoverished in ways

I’m glad I’ll never know—wealth,

With its everything-new shine, conceals a deathtrap.

This is my town, home by adoption.

I love every inch of peeling paint…much like the

Fond faces, old-timers still holding on—

Enjoying coffee and pie everyday

In Bev’s Bakery, chatting over two-page ‘Gazette’.

The church is a mess—pews that squeak

And shimmy, loose from generations of

Stand-up, sit-down, kneel;

The furnace frequently quits in winter,

Forcing everyone to sit close, to keep warm.

Broke-down Palace…community of 1001 humble saints.

© R L Cadillac, 2017 ~ All rights reserved.

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