a good friend's good poem.

you can catch jeff down at the bookstore's open-mic. i think a lot of this piece...

"Vacation"
by Jeff Skarski

I stepped into his shop that day,
escaping Summer's heat.
Heading down the merchant's way,
to find a bit to eat.

"Hello!" said he, with twinkling eye,
's I stepped into his hall,
I looked, but found no thing to buy,
just beds along a wall.

He said, "I sell vacations, here!
The best there's ever been!
A miracle they engineered
way back in twenty-ten."

He said for just a modest fee,
I'd lie on magic bed,
Wherever I wished, there I'd be,
though only in my head.

My trip, he said, would last a week,
though I'd only lie an hour,
in this bed time was mild and meek,
devoid its frightful power.

I wondered if I had the time,
and pondered where I'd go
I asked if where my thoughts took me
was mine, or if he'd know.

I took the long way home that time,
my parcels under arm,
ice cream from the five and dime,
fresh supper from the farm.

At home I hugged my two young kids,
and kissed and held my wife.
a boy and girl, aged eight and six,
so wild and full of life.

We ate and spoke for quite a while,
of work and school and house.
at gym my kids had run a mile,
my wife had seen a mouse.

I listened smiling t'all they said,
I nodded when I ought.
I spoke only of the weather and
the things which I had bought.

I asked my wife where she would go,
a week spent anywhere.
She couldn't say, she didn't know,
as long's the weather's fair.

I asked of skiing in the north,
or camping in the wood,
would she swim in sandy, sunny ports,
If I told her that we could?

She said she had no answer,
that she wanted only sleep.
Happy just to have her,
I kissed her on the cheek.

Next day I sat behind my desk,
The day was dull but calm.
Each day boring as the rest,
but soothing like a balm.

Morning's light wakes up my brain,
I must be at work soon,
Newspapers while I ride the train,
lunch in cafe's at noon.

Work and eat and sleep I must
with evenings all for rest.
Five days each week for wages bust,
I think as I get dressed.

And then at last comes Saturday,
I take them to the park.
for hours on soft grass we play,
feed squirrels for a lark.

Sunday's peace is wistful,
a lovely Summer's break,
I hold them all the closer
for I know I soon will wake.

I open my eyes blindly,
From tears I freshly cry.
He holds my shoulder kindly,
says "None leave here dry of eye."

"Each one's vacation's different,
and yet they're all the same.
I hope whatever you saw then
will help you to be sane.

A vacation's a different thing
than it was long ago,
They've always numbed the world's sting,
Oh, little did we know."

I say no word, 'cept mumbled thanks,
and pay the man his due.
I open wide his window planks
so that I might look through.

I see the rubble scattered where
the five-and-dime once stood.
I see the buildings shattered. Where
I worked is but charred wood.

What once was my vocation,
Twas my family, this I know.
Now just dust and radiation,
Oh, dear God, I miss them so.