by Warren Gaston | Aug 25, 2021
The past is most dangerous when it is not left in the past, when the past is revered in the present as a fantasy fitting for the future, when the past is a bad memory mistaken for a hopeful plan.
by Warren Gaston | Aug 23, 2021
The check-out girl at the grocery store was named Destiny, according to her tag. And I wondered what her destiny might be. And I wondered if she wondered. Some predestined plan? A trip-tik plotted out with detours and delays for her drive through decades toward the...
by Warren Gaston | Aug 12, 2021
There are no songs in my neighborhood. No curbside singers. No front stoop strummers. No back porch drummers. No rhymes or rhythms rising out of cracks in the sidewalk like lyrical weeds. No guy down the street with bongos serenading the moon or the same guy with...
by Warren Gaston | Aug 11, 2021
I do not want to go to Hawaii. Always have not wanted to go. Too dangerous. Too much sunshine. Too many pineapples. Too much sugar cane. Swaying grass hips. Sweetness and light. Too much white silky sand. Too many waves massaging the beach. The urge would be to lie...
by Warren Gaston | Aug 9, 2021
These days I don’t do much. I like not doing much. It gives me something to do. In the early morning I sit and wait. Not waiting, exactly. Not like waiting for Christmas, waiting for the cable guy, or waiting for the 6 o’clock news. More like watching. Like keeping an...
