Monthly Archives: December 2014

December 23, 2014

The Milk Man

	The Milk Man
481	The milk man is a humble gent.
	He barely speaks a sound.
	He wakes up early every morn
	to do his milky rounds.
485	He’s not a business man like some.
	He knows no politics.
	He picks up empty bottle crates;
	each one can carry six.
	One dawn the man was running late,
490	the sun was peaking out.
	He had two homes left on his list
	to finish his long route.
	When he approached the final house
	he picked up empty jars,
495	replacing them with sweet white milk
	and turning toward his cart.
	But as he was about to leave
	he heard a sudden click.
	The door flew wide, a girl inside
500	coughed lightly on her fist.
	When she was sure she had his ear
	she spoke this compliment:
	“Thank you for your kind services,
	your milk’s always so fresh!”
505	The milk man heard her gratitude
	but shied away at thanks.
	“Oh Miss, I just deliver milk
	in its completed state.
	Some other men do all the work.
510	They milk and pasteurize,
	then cleaners clean and bottlers cap
	and bosses supervise.”
	The girl responded with nice words:
	“You’re more than that, you know.
515	Come back tomorrow at this time,
	I promise you a show…”
	The milk man blankly stared at her,
	then turned around and left.
	He couldn’t help but wonder at
520	whatever she had meant.
	The next day he began his route.
	He walked through quiet dusk.
	Despite the young girl’s prophecy,
	the man would not grow fussed.
525	And then the last house did appear.
	All seemed as well it should.
	He picked up crates and dropped off milk,
	his job complete and good.
	But once again the portal creaked!
530	Girl ushered milk man in.
	The room contained the neighborhood –
	his clients, and all grinned.
	Miss Jacobs showed her prize bleu cheese.
	The baker shared his cakes.
535	And yogurts, milk shakes, crème brûlée
	were all placed on display.
	“You’re milk man, cheese man, cake man too,”
	the girl spoke gladly thus,
	“What you deliver every day
540	contributes to so much.”

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December 10, 2014

The Prisoner

By Alex Longstreth

	The Prisoner
421	A prisoner arrived one day
	at Coffee County jail.
	The verdict was for ten to life
	without parole or bail.
425	The first few months were difficult.
	His cell mates often raged.
	The confines of his tiny space
	made him regret his cage.
	“There’s no escape,” that’s what they say,
430	“These walls will suffocate.
	Constricted, breathless you will be.
	Your life is confiscate.”
	Well, time went by, and life grew grim,
	then prisoner decides
435	he won’t be trapped by these gray walls
	until the day he dies.
	He steals a spoon from the canteen.
	At night he slowly digs.
	He scratches holes just barely deep.
440	Each never gets too big.
	He started on the far left wall,
	which juxtaposed outside,
	then switched his target to the back,
	which softer rock comprised.
445	Some years go by; the walls expand
	a little at a time.
	The guards don’t notice anything;
	they only see hard lime.
	Expanding cells have ill effects,
450	the prisoner soon knew.
	The noise was greater from the back.
	The left was cold as blue.
	But he kept digging up those walls.
	He never missed an inch.
455	The cell grew wider every day,
	but thirst was never quenched.
	“I want more room so I can stretch!
	I want to run ten miles!
	This cell cannot contain my needs,
460	nor to what I aspire.”
	And then one day he dug too deep,
	for light escaped a crack.
	He braced himself, and then he gave
	that thin rock wall a whack.
465	A hole stood wide, no going back,
	the guards would see his deed.
	He stepped outside the wall divide
	and breathed in flowering trees.
	His world was now so limitless.
470	His walls were broken down.
	No one could tell him what to do.
	Give prisoner a crown!
	But then a bang and sudden pain…
	A bullet pierced his back.
475	The world was spinning quickly now.
	His life was fleeing fast.
	The prisoner had pushed his bounds,
	he’d bettered his poor fare.
	But walls protect; he’d never learned
480	it’s dangerous out there.

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December 8, 2014

The Astronaut

By Alex Longstreth

	The Astronaut
361	An astronaut goes for a walk
	outside among the stars.
	His trusty craft beneath his feet
	has taken him quite far.
365	The sailor of the stars steps up,
	and gravity takes pull.
	What feels an inch becomes a yard;
	brief flight elates his sole.
	He climbs up to the viewing deck,
370	slow motion takes a while,
	and at his goal he looks around
	and cannot help but smile.
	For ever since he was quite young
	the moon was more than bright.
375	It was a place to touch and feel,
	to study in the night.
	He followed rules, excelled at math,
	his shape remained pristine.
	One afternoon then NASA called
380	and offered him his dream.
	And so he stands surrounded by
	quite frankly everything.
	He looks out left at Mars’ bright red,
	now right at Saturn’s rings.
385	The wonders that the sailor’s seen
	can barely be described.
	The brightness of a newborn star
	looks magical this high.
	The darkness of the universe
390	still makes him hold his breath.
	Abyss had never seemed so black
	until he trod its depths.
	And even in his special suit
	the cold pervades his veins,
395	but ice can’t numb his boyish awe.
	He feels so young again.
	There far below is planet Earth
	whose continents conceal
	a hundred hundred thousand men
400	whose tiny lives are real.
	His job is truly wondrous.
	It cannot be explained.
	Some things need be experienced
	to fully comprehend.
405	The astronaut proceeds back now.
	The airlock guards his path.
	He floats down to his office space
	and documents a graph.
	His toothpaste meal will have to do.
410	It’s roast beef, peas, and bread.
	Then after he enjoys a book
	he’ll float on up to bed.
	Before he sleeps, he always looks
	at photos of his wife
415	and little girl, who’s just turned three:
	his newborn star – so bright!
	And as he sails the universe
	above Earth’s bluish dome,
	the astronaut lies wondering:
420	how far away is home?