Different Slants

Seeing the World from a New Angle

Audrey, Pink Bunny Slippers, Her Cat, and the God’s Eye…by Robert M. Katzman

By Robert M. Katzman © May 18, 2017

(a podcast of this story I read on 91.1 FM, WGTD Kenosha, Wis NPR a week earlier courtesy of the warm and kind people of the Kenosha Writers Guild, especially Dave Gourdoux, has a link at the end of this posting.)

 

I was reading an online obituary page a while ago, and saw that Audrey, my Audrey, by then 86, had died.

It sent a shiver through me and I glanced over at the God’s Eye I’ve kept with me wherever I’ve moved over the past half century. It rests about five feet away from me. Intricately woven multi-colored yarn with fine detail in a Native American style, using three foot-long slender branches tied together in the shape of a six-pointed star.

It is a spiritual and ritual object thought to have magical powers by the ancient Pueblo tribes in the Southwest.

It is thought to possess the power to be able to see and understand that which an ordinary person cannot see.

Audrey, I thought to myself, now you’re really gone from me, aren’t you?

The pain within me was so real, so deep. She was someone I would often go see in Shabby Town, when I needed to remind myself that whatever else was wrong with me, with my life, a woman with fine qualities like Audrey–and Jesus, man–so beautiful, too, who was willing to give me a second look, well, ok, a lot more than a second look, then…maybe I had something valuable about me that she wanted, too, if only for a moment in time.

Audrey, Audrey, that picture of you, that little old lady scrunched up in a hospital bed, why had that newspaper or whatever online things are called now…no idea about how incredible you once were? What you were really like, so long ago. The smile that radiated from your big brown eyes, and your soft wide mouth?

So kissable a mouth. Soft lips, Audrey, you had such soft lips…soft everything.

(Read on …)

Valentine to a Wounded Wife…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Life & Death,Love and Romance,Marriage and Family,My Own Personal Hell,subtle erotica — Bob at 11:50 am on Thursday, February 11, 2016

© February/12/2016

 

I see you sleeping in a darkened room

Dry lips slightly parted

Your Scandinavian cheekbones

Distinct as ski slopes

Your blonde hair dirty and lank

Your skin is pale

You wear no make-up

And to me you are so beautiful

(Read on …)

Wisconsin: Driving in the Dark…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Bewilderment,Depression and Hope,Love and Romance,My Own Personal Hell,subtle erotica,Wisconsin stories — Bob at 11:39 am on Thursday, August 27, 2015

Robert M. Katzman’s Amazing Story: www.differentslants.com/?p=355

© August 27, 2015

Trapped in my three-hour commute

Wisconsin to Illinois

Illinois to Wisconsin

Over and over and over

Images spill out of my mind

Like coffee sloshing

Over the edge of a cup

 

Window open, wind racing by

Avoiding the striped road-kill in the North

Muscular trucks belching black smoke

Wreathing me, lulling me

Interstate fossil fuel perfume

I miss my damn exit

Every time

And the yellowed old images

Flicker by…

(Read on …)

She was the Girl with the Band……by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Love and Romance,Obsession,subtle erotica — Bob at 1:39 pm on Friday, July 25, 2014

Robert M. Katzman’s Amazing Story: www.differentslants.com/?p=355

© 7/25/14

 

Early morning

Driving east into the rising sun

Steaming coffee fogging my window

While awakening my senses

I wipe my windshield with a rag

And I see her

(Read on …)

Sirens of Regret…by Robert M. Katzman

Robert M. Katzman’s Amazing Story: www.differentslants.com/?p=355

© June 26, 2014

I can hear it far away

Weaving in and out

Sirens

Firetruck?

Better get outa the way

Wasn’t I painting something?

Mrs. Phillips, your boy has talent

You can tell that at seven?

(Read on …)

Time, Unmeasured,1969…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Love and Romance,Politics,Retail Purgatory,subtle erotica — Bob at 5:28 pm on Monday, March 31, 2014

Robert M. Katzman’s Amazing Story:  http://www.differentslants.com/?p=355

© March 31, 2014


It was a six foot by eight foot wooden box
I built it in Chicago
I was nineteen
From the heavy hinged door to the slanted roof
So the snow would fall off
A solitary window slid back and forth
The rain was defeated
The small structure was solid
And eventually I, too, was solid
Because one thing led to another

(Read on …)

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