Christopher J Ananias

The Picture on the Phone Pole by Christopher J Ananias

The streets of Marion were one way, even the alleys. If I went past the address, it would be a hassle. My GPS led me with its robotic commands like I was its mindless servant. That’s about the way I felt driving the Medicaid Taxi van, old No. 4, that smelled like a dirty laundry hamper. The so-called clients, “The Riders,” gave me a hard time if I showed up late for their free ride.

“They’re a bunch of deadbeats, Cal.” I said on our daily bullshit call.

Cal, who was always ranting about them, suddenly said, like a big company man, “Hey, don’t talk about our riders like that.” He was a fanatical Trumper too, hounding me to vote for the orange man. I almost did, thinking Trump was for Christian values, what a crock. Now I’m wondering about Biden and his senility.

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The Dark Lonely Street by Christopher J Ananias

the dark lonely street

accompanies my staggering gait

with its nice little houses

judging me in their wake

The Lord’s steeple rises

I look with a hopeful bleakness

wanting to be a child again

loosed of the drunkard’s curse

greeted by a shadow’s, clink, clink

whipping around a dark cornice

Like the slash of a whip!

wrinkled up mouth, teeth, and no lips

a barking pious creature of contempt

a charging malevolence

ending its disdain in its chain

hating my low whiskey stink

pushed away from the Lord

into the doldrums of drink

I walk toward Jesus or further

draining my dandelion wine

alcohol robbing me

of everything dear

A lackluster career

of dreary consequence

seems to be my creed

a conflicting,

failing need

I hit the bottle like, life

after breadth and reach of town

finally, I make like coming around The Horn

I catch sail

to my mother’s home

to the enablement

of her generosity

I step light as lead

to my childhood’s room and bed

Christopher J Ananias

(Image by CJA)

A New Photo Gallery by Christopher J Ananias

Editors’ note: Christopher (or as I like to call him “CJA”) has provided us with another fine collection of pictures. We believe that the beholders will agree to the excellence in and of CJA’s eye.

(On some services the header image is not included–for those of you who are unfortunate that way, I include the train a second time because it should not be missed–Leila)

Staying Fit by Christopher J Ananias

(CJA has previously published prose and photography in the Springs, now he successfully adds poetry to his site canon–LA)

only the vain

and who isn’t in this country?

can feel the strain

of trying to stay the same

sweat rolling down my brain

all the while lines appear

caked up thick!

in a funeral parlor’s pit

staying fit, I should trade it for a crucifix

exercise schedules

and dietary rituals

spread on low-carb bread

the gym and the road, to cheat

the old varicose veined hag of death

who appears by our bedside

the heartbeat’s timekeeper,

with a coroner’s stopwatch

destroying our sunshine

the temporal concubine

run five miles today

the flesh says, “Get slim, Sunny Jim”

still marked and measured for death

—I will fulfill your destiny yet!

with or without the benefit

of running shoes and exercise equipment

a Nike SWOOSH on your coffin lid?