Hatred Can Be Hazardous to Your Health

A Short Story

I could see him out of the corner of my eye standing with a rod and reel and small tackle box. As I reeled in a small catfish I waved telling him there's plenty room to share. His nauseous expression and body language painted a picture of disdain for me though I had never seen him before and wondered what I had done to ruffle his feathers.
 
Set up on a rocky jetty in the river a couple hundred yards below the dam fishing for catfish my familiarity with these rushing waters let me know he did not have much experience fishing from these dangerous slippery rocks.  His thigh high wading boots rolled down would not only be cumbersome but dangerous if he got too close to the waters edge and slipped. The rushing water would pull him into the current in seconds with little chance for rescue.
 
His hesitancy to join me out on the jetty which is nearly island like in its protrusion farther into the flow of the channel seemed to wane as he worked his way down onto the rocks. His approach had none of the traditional fisherman's banter about the water conditions or the number of bites. Instead, I could feel his piercing silent stares at me as if I was something he loathed. Always being one to allow the other the benefit of doubt I allowed myself to think maybe he had recently experienced some sort of trauma and simply was not in a mood to be friendly.   
 
About fifty feet from me he started casting his line into the current but his weight wasn't strong enough to deal with the power of the rushing water. When I offered him a larger weight he, at first, ignored me but my persistence forced him to finally mumble that what he had was fine. I returned to my gear and continued humming R&B tunes as I fished. In just a few minutes I heard splashing water and noticed he was sitting on the rocks with pants wet from possibly stepping onto a slippery moss laden rock too close to the waters edge. Icouldn't resist warning him about the danger his boots presented if they got water in them. Yet, he was rather blase about my comment and didn't even turn to look my way.
 
About an hour passed with my distant fishing companion not speaking to me with the only acknowledgment I existed was to glance my way when I reeled in a flopping fish. I did, however, notice he mumbled to him self often and when I caught the words "those people" I realized his disdain for me was strictly racial in nature. It had no affect on my fishing though I felt he was the one suffering with all that venom he manifested in being  near me.
 
I heard a desperate cry out for help and when I turned his way he was frantically trying to hold onto a rock while his legs were invisible in the water. I rushed to him while yelling for him to try to kick off his boots. His face was flushed from fear and the pain of the turbulent water pulling at his body. I grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled but my opponent, the river, was much too strong for the two us so my aim was to just hold him steady enough so he wouldn't be pulled under. My yelling for help brought two more fishermen rushing to our aid. We finally were able to force drag his body out of the water while seeing both his boots swallowed by the current as we rescued him. When we got him beyond the waters edge he sighed a sound of relief and laid on the rocks from exhaustion but spoke not one word to us. As more people arrived the banter included comments about why he had wading boots on to fish in these type waters and if we needed to call the rangers for medical help.
 
Suddenly he arose and stumbled his way silently up the rocky hillside leading to the parking area refusing to face eye to eye those who came to help him. We all just watched as he must have suffered cuts and bruises to his bear feet in his feverish escape mode. We stood like parade watchers trying to figure the level of mentality so low as to continue his loathsome disdain for us who had just saved his life.
 
After he drove away there was plenty of speculation as to his ungrateful attitude and when someone noticed he had left his rod and reel and small tackle box all refused to touch it. The prevailing comment was that it might be infested with the same type hatred he expressed to us. I remember so well as we dispersed someone saying, "damn, wonder if he knows now that hatred can be hazardous to your health."

Del Cano 2006 Feb

Different Worlds

We live in different worlds
see nothing much the same
tho our eyes both see life
our differences are to blame.

How we respond tells the tale
of how we see what is there
Often one or the other misses
what one feels is unfair.

My life is driven by the years
I've fought city hall and such.
You slow your car and wave
while I sit and wait on the bus.

My jobs die off or I'm fired
as often as you change shoes.
Forever looking for a new start
while it seems you can't lose.

Bank says my credit's bad
go figure, should I wonder why
or ought I just allow my dreams
to simply drift off in the sky.

Rent man sold the house
builder's gonna tear it down.
Make new condos complete
towering up from the ground.

Now where do I get a deposit
even if I found rent I can afford.
May need to split the family
for cheaper room and board.

To hell with the bus
need to get up and walk.
Me, myself and I gotta meet
have a real good talk.

Vehicles buzzing by
faces held straight ahead.
They wish not to see me
maybe its what I said.

What, I can't want the same
to be able to leave a real job.
Ride home in style, safe
all duded up, no slob.

Lets see here,schooling
bought the same lessons
yet,my way is not the same
not like all your blessings.

When I should be thinking
bout retiring my tired soul.
Got to start all over
fo I end out in the cold.

Sure, the pains do linger
as the good life floats on by.
I am stuck with the left overs
not the twinkles from your eye.

You point at me with jesters
like I wrote the book you made.
I am forever ass deep in crap
keeping my head up as I wade.

We live in different worlds
see nothingmuch the same
tho our eyes both see life
our differences are to blame.

Del Cano 2006 Feb

 

 

Whispering Words/Words Afloat

A Collab

Words don't have the power
to get every nuance I feel
when thoughts linger on you
no doubt, I know lust is real.

Pinning finger to lips, halting the rush
of words, let me linger within your hot hush.

Not just the basic sexual need
but a deep seated crave to share
all of my emotions and feelings
the want to love you everywhere.

Words afloat on the breath of a sigh
magnetic attraction, my pulse on the rise.

Oh, I can make words feel good
even say how much you please
Yet, ain't no words to make the touch
be more than a visual tease.

Touch you? Feel you? Our silence transcends
even the words that flow from your pen.

Words can stir the senses
raise up many a latent thought.
But not one word has penetrated
like just one look can wrought.

You lift my skirt as I close my eyes
the need for words drifting, like fireflies.

I write from a need to be heard
to tell how I yearn and desire.
But no written word can out ignite
how even a "whisper" can set a fire.

Hearts of fire, the eternal flame
fanned by the singular sound of your name.

Can you feel your body pulse
thru a word on it layed to rest
anyway near as good as
when she purrs the word yes.

My long hair flows down the side of our bed
words falling hard now, streaming blood red.

All the words I write
are done to express my feeling
but they don't come anyplace as near
as when I groan pleasure reeling.

Seagulls above us, our toes in the sand
words on paper passed between hands.

Oh, dear, read my words
fondle them up close and tight
but please know, as I whisper
I am loving you thru the night.

After you leave, I reach for the note
to partake of your words, of the love that you wrote.

These are your words
belonging exclusively only to you
and no matter what you think
my words whisper like lovers do.

Emerging from the folds of your message now open
whispers of heart, authentic and golden.


Del Cano 2006 Feb
Naia, February 2006

Uh Uh, No Way

Oh, hell no, this will not be
can't kill my passion for poetry.
Okay, gave up the smokes
then a few of them dirty jokes
but I'll be damn if you knock
me off my steady sensual rock.

I can walk most lines you wish
cook up a quick tasty dish
sing you all the songs you want
pick out a star then point
But, no ma'am, not my poems
like giving up one of my arms.

Your spunk in reaching
is quite a bit like teaching
but I can't really learn
just how you can discern
that my writes are in spite
of what you feel is right.

No damn way, aint gonna be
poems are meaningful to me
They let me travel the world
oftimes to dance and twirl
bring up lots of joy and glee
touching ever so wonderfully

Oh, don't you dare go there
you'll be fast seeking a spare
someone else to stroke your hair
fondle and kiss you everywhere
stroke and stoke you, I declare
can all go sail off in the air

Whats wrong with you gurl
ain't no better one in this world
the way I treat your body
always warm like a hot toddy
rock n rolling like in a spasm
with you having multi-orgasms

Baby, it might be quiting time
tho you are the perfect rhyme
my writes soothe away the pain
rubs you here then do it again
I can give up a whole lot for thee
ain't no way I'll quit my poetry.

Del Cano 2006 Feb

 

 
 
 

Tree Trimmer

A Collab

Longing tugs me to the fence to watch you
as you trim the towering oak tree in your yard.
Your skin is molasses silk wet with your sweat.
Your arms are strong, confident, the muscles hard.

Those forbidden thoughts of you
doodling in my mind makes me wish
as I trim this tree hoping against hope
there was a way you could be my dish.   

It’s a hot day in August, you remove your shirt
as if you are unaware of the eyes that drink you in.
Too shy to tell you how you bring my body alive.
Or the thoughts I think, wishing they were not sin.  

I believe I can see you peeping;
damn, would be good to get a closer view.
Hell's doors are wide open but I don't care
would love to wrap my arms around you.  

Those hands that hold the tree saw are competent,
oh, if only those hands knew I wanted you to trim me.
I ache to feel them on my body in each and every place,
suddenly I am hot with desire and wish I were a tree.  

I could lay my hands on you and slide them
to every lusty part while my body screams out.
If only you were this tree I'd trim you so good
making desire bring passions to a loud shout.
 
Would you strip me the same way you strip excess bark,
or would your movements slow to a maddening pace.
Grinning you would unbutton my gingham blouse so proper,
only to find that beneath, I am sliding in black silk and lace.  

Oh, wouldn't I love to undo that top to see
just how much is there to wallow in and caress
while learning the surprises you have hid
would drive my desires to lavish all the rest.  

As if you are aware of my presence, you glance my way,
wink and wipe the sweat from your face as you approach.
Those arms rest on the fence top, those eyes invite me
to play naughty games, and we won’t need a coach. . .  

I'm going to look your way to see if you notice.
Then as I make my last jump from this tree
gonna walk over to you in hopes you don't reject
the thoughts I have harbored for you and me.  

You come around to my yard, to the wide swing where I sit,
sink beside me onto plush cushions, pushing me down slow.
Your tongue explores, starting with pulsing thrusts of a kiss.
You tease and tantalize, tasting every inch of me, head to toe.  

I'm going to chance it and see if the lust I hoped for
is as fresh in her eyes the way it has been in mine.
Without a word I slouch right next to you an embrace
thinking to hell with that tree do it another time.  

That old tree can wait another day, my needs are urgent
as I spread myself open for you to savor and arouse my skin.
You are hard as that tree, quivering flesh eager to plunge
into me, ride my rhythm, not once but oh, again and again.  

I'm running my tongue over you, dragging teasingly
till we both are as a sweaty hillside draining like Spring rain.
And as our quivering bodies succumb to the need to be blessed
we ride the tide of passionate lust over and over again.
 

 Dancin With Wolves 2006 Jan

Del Cano 2006 Jan
 

Heaven's Kiss

How can one not see
so much of heaven's face
when there is much here
of loves sweet grace.

Doth they not see
the blooms of a rose
stems of grass dancin
when the wind blows.

Have they not dipped
in a mountain stream
or felt the warmth
of a sunray beam.

Are they blind to the moon
which conducts each star
to twinkle on lover's night
no matter where we are.

How can one not see
the beauty in a raindrop
or the foreverness
sharing love unstopped.

As the snow doth fall
and blankets our way
the peaceful serenity
massages the day.

Rivers rolling thru the land
toting so much mystery
and stopping where you are
to add your own history.

If nothing but vivid colors
or a rainbow in the breeze
got to know love exists
when you take a look at trees.

Oh, I've seen the serenity
of rolling ocean white caps
and the hardiest of crocus
peep thru snow from winter's nap.

How can one not see
love is all around in this
wrapped in heaven's touch
how can we miss its kiss.

Del Cano 2006 Jan

 

 

 

From the Stage

Her face appeared
from one side of the stage
a reappearance to the act
as we rehearsed the page

She broke out in song
one not in the book
tho most were startled
I just took a close look.

As she made her way
to stage center, each word
came clearer in mind
knew then I had heard

She sang a song of love
I had forgotten in the fray
when years before we met
but got lost along the way.

Awakened from a dream
that told we couldnt be
knew right then for sure
she was singing to me

I joined with her in song
as we met under the lights
holding hands like before
on those long ago nights.

The cast hummed along
not knowing the words we sung
as the audience stood in awe
they all seemed to be stunned.

We stood in stark contrast
as if from different times
tho holding hands while singing
and making the melody rhyme

She looked like a queen
from a score or two before
and I a carpenter dressed
as if bout to hang a new door.

The time we shared the lights
seemed more than a simple act
like old lovers meeting again
but won't be getting back.

As the orchestra played
and the conductor indicated
the song should be ending
she sung on as if vendicated.

The curtains finally dropped
she let my hand go as well
when the back stage got lit
she was gone like spell.

A puff drifted in the air
a sweet scented haze
I knew then never again
would I ever see her gaze.

Del Cano 2006 Jan