I skip and skim too much, really.
Too picky, you know?
Might spend an hour in a bookstore, and come out with nothing.
Just ’cause the first paragraph didn’t grab me.
Didn’t invite me in.
Well, that was an hour I’ll never get back, right?
With my iPad on its lazy boy bedtime stand,
I skim through WordPress Reader,
Playing eenie meenie minee moe.
What a way to do things.
I’m sure I miss some gems.
Whoever said the old have more patience was a little off the mark.
My filter is set too finely, you could say.
It’s that way with the people in my life, too.
Fewer and fewer seem to get through,
or perhaps just give it up as a bad job.
Maybe they’re right.
The louder they get, the more deaf I get.
But you, now.
You’re a funny duck.
A person of few words.
Coquettish glances and winky smiles.
Always seeming to recede in the distance,
but always looking back just before you disappear.
Like an elf peering from behind a sketchy tree.
You beckon, without gestures.
I am aroused from a sleep on the silty bottom,
like that wise old lunker,
still captivated by the shiny golden lure.
Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.