Inside The Gazebo

My Photo
Location: Central Michigan, United States

Spent a long career making lots of money for other people. Now it's my turn. _____________________________ Email:

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Need a hug?

Silence in embrace.
No, not silent…the song of a hug.
Bodies push together, head to toe;
Arms wrap tight around;
Leg junctions press against thighs.

No, not silent…a moan of pleasure.
Bodies mold together, two become as one;
Comfort given, a thought of understanding;
Breasts touch breasts.

No, not silent…a sigh from a warmed soul.
Bodies compress, a shield to turn the world away;
Hidden from the bitter, covered against the cruel;
Hands pet and soothe the bruise.

No, not silent…the song of a hug.
Bodies join, heart caresses heart;
The spoken gift, gentle and sincere;
“I love you, friend”.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

"Nice ass!"

Tonya, bending over in front of the “pay-here” counter cussed at the connection of wires she attempted to make from under the shelf which held the cash register.

“Tonya,” I said. “Have I told you lately what a nice ass you have?”

“Shit!” she exclaimed.

“No shit, “I said. “You have a nice ass.”

“That’s not what I meant, Erik! I can’t get this damn plug to go where it’s supposed to!”

“Can I help?”

“Sure. Come over here and lift the cash register so I can see underneath of it.”

I left my table, went over and raised the back-end of the cash register. Click. Tonya snapped the plug into its proper receptacle.

“Jesus…finally!” she said. ”I’ve been fooling with that thing since I got here this morning,”

“Why was it unplugged to begin with?” I asked.

“Who the hell knows,” she stated. “You can sit down now. I’ll order your breakfast.”

I went back to my regular table and sat down. Tonya went into the kitchen. As I watched her go, it occurred to me that she didn’t acknowledge my comment about her ass. Hmmm, maybe that annoyed her a bit…along with the plug.

No sooner had I finished those thoughts when Tonya came out of the kitchen carrying a chipped mug of coffee and sat down at my table. I was the only customer in the diner at the moment.

“Thanks for the help, Erik,” she said. “I’ll treat to your breakfast this morning.”

“Nah,” I said. “I didn’t do that much.”

Well, I want to.” She laughed then added, “Tell ya what. I’ll buy your breakfast, you leave the tip!”

“That’ll work!” I said. I thought about repeating my comment about her ass but a group of about half-dozen men came into the diner. Instead, I said, “Speaking of tips, here comes a bunch.”

“Yeah, “she said. “Those guys are a road construction crew. They’re good tippers.”

Tonya left her partially finished mug of coffee on the table and went to wait on the construction guys. Four more men came in to join the first group. All of those guys will appreciate Tonya’s ass, I thought.

Tonya finished taking the orders of the first table of men then went over to the second table. On her way to the second table, one of the guys at the first table said, “Boy, she sure does have a great ass!” There was a murmur of agreement from the other men. I noticed Tonya to wince but, she didn’t break-stride. I found it difficult not to laugh and thought she must hear that comment on a regular basis. She just doesn’t respond to any of those comments, I concluded.

I finished eating. Tonya came to take away the tableware and asked if I wanted more coffee. I told her no, and started to reach for my wallet. “Don’t forget,” she said. “It’s on me…just leave a big tip.” She giggled as she walked away toward the kitchen with my dirty dishes.

Finished with breakfast and the last drops of strong black coffee, I tossed a couple of bucks on the table, put on my jacket, and then started to make my way to the door. Tonya was still in the kitchen.

On my way to the door I noticed there were now over a dozen men in the little diner---eating, laughing and carrying on loud conversations about sports, hunting and other such man-talk.

I had just pulled the door open to leave when Tonya shouted from behind me, “Hey, Erik!”

I turned around and said, “Yes, Dear?”

“You too!” she yelled. The noise from the other conversations in the diner calmed.

“Me too, what?”

“Nice ass! You have a really nice ass! Pinchable!” Hoots and jeers arose from the dozen or so men.

Even though it was a cold morning, my cheeks were warm as I walked to my truck.

Saturday, November 04, 2006

The Blank Page

Every morning I write during breakfast. I arrive early at the small diner with my pen and Doodle Pad. I sit down at my regular table, flip open the Doodle Pad, click open my pen and write. The wait-staff bring to me whatever it is they think I should eat for breakfast that day. The only consistent food in their morning menu for me is strong black coffee in a chipped mug.

It is an enjoyable start to the day, mine. Wonderful wait-staff who have become my friends, good food, and an overall happy atmosphere in which to scribble my words. They all start right there in that small town diner---the lines for my WIP, the “Bug Tails”, the sex snippets, the semi-violent scenes, the half-assed attempts at poetry……

Except this morning! Damn! This morning I flipped open my Doodle Pad, clicked open my pen, and my mind was as blank as the page. Nothing! No idea for a writing topic. None. Shit! I thought.

The opening-shift waitress, Tonya, apparently noticed my stare at the Doodle Pad. From across the room, she said, “What’s the matter, Erik? Run out of ideas?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “You got any? Give me a topic to write about.”

“Okay. Let me think about it for a few minutes”

Tonya told the kitchen staff what I’d have for breakfast, and then busied herself with the rest of her morning opening chores. I continued to stare at the blank page of my Doodle Pad. This is serious, I thought. I’m not getting burned-out am I?

Tonya refilled my coffee mug. I said, “Well?”

“I’m still thinking,” she said. “What do you want to write about?”

“If I knew that, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

“Well, I sure as hell don’t have any good ideas for you. Wait! I’ll go ask the cook.” Tonya turned away to go into the kitchen. I continued to look at the blank page and sip coffee. Damn, I didn’t like that blank-minded feeling at all.

Tonya returned from the kitchen. She had a smirk on her face.

“And?” I asked.

Tonya giggled. Then she said, “First, the cook said, ‘How the hell would I know what he should write about?’ Then she said to tell you to write about people screwing if you couldn’t think of anything else.” Tonya and I both laughed.

Tonya went to wait on a group of customers who had just walked into the diner. I continued to look at that blank page and eat my breakfast. Well, I thought, maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow I’ll think of something to write about.

What do YOU do when the page in your Doodle Pad is blank…along with your mind?