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Old Dirt

I’m in the process of boiling down what I’ve written here in a condensed format, with the intention of facilitating dialog with those that don’t know what to say about the confusion that the world confronts them with. As that process unfolds, I’ve been beset by a cohort of lawyers.

My divorce attorney was a real piece of work. He referred me to the “Man/Boy Love” association, and told me once that “Sometimes a man has to have sex with a child – for the good of the child.” This piece of garbage was referred to me by my corporate attorney, and had both my accountant and closest account call me up to intervene on his behalf. As if that wasn’t frightening enough, he threatened my relationship with my children in an attempt to suborn perjury from me for the benefit of a third party in the case.

The specific incident involved the presentation of poem to a day care provider. I had approached my wife of the time over the summer, telling her that this woman was acting in a provocative fashion towards me, and asking her to help me intervene with the management to get her to stop. The response was an accusation that it was my fault.

So I was left hanging without support, and the situation just got worse. It culminated with the presentation of a poem to the “lady.” It was just before Christmas break, and we drove the boys out to Tahoe for a ski vacation. There wasn’t much snow, but on the way back we ran into intense wind storms. The drive was a disaster, with long stretches of stop-and-go as traffic wended its way through the scattered debris of camper shells and jack-knifed trailers.

We stopped down in Goleta to get gas and have a light dinner. The wind was blowing down the Grapevine at over 100 mph. Getting back into the car, I actually couldn’t keep the door open on the downwind side, and had to turn it around so that the family could get into the car.

When we got back home, we found my youngest son’s cubby contents in a bin at the front door, along with a restraining order against me.

The poem that I gave to the woman was intended to frighten her – to make her aware that she was dealing with a subtle and mature man that she could not possibly understand. When my wife was presented it, the same was proven true. She got to the second verse and screamed at me “That’s sex!”

But when I wrote the poem over the summer, I was conscious of five interpretations, only the last of which was “Man in Mid-Life Crisis.” The first four were:

  1. Christianity and Science (Isaac Newton teaches the world of gravitation, and I upending Einstein’s theory)
  2. Beach Day with Kevin (father and son) (Starting: I come home and he runs to greet me at the door…)
  3. Advice from a Father to a Love-Lorn Daughter
  4. The Temptress

I was never asked to explain by the owners. They had plenty of reason to be afraid of a scandal, and chose to take the offensive.

It’s time to put this to rest, once and for all.

This is the poem:


The Earth, at night, dances with the moon
Cadence and rhythm, their persons speaking
Of love with power, purpose and strength.
Fluttering towards kindred recognitions.

The shore, in dreams, graces into the sea.
Lifting and rising, breathing in tumbles,
Tide mingling with sand, and of that warming,
The two orbs slowly fall, fin’ly as one.

And yet, and still, of certain knowledge there is none,
Held by confident eyes, in children fashioning the sun.

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