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| Oh... |
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| tennis bums... |
And like I have said before, sometimes you just have to blog. This is a song from the newest album i just bought and, hmm, love this track . LW is such a great singer of poetry, and with her parentage it seems clear why. Her father is a superb poet, but if she were a tennis player people would wonder how! I am too too tired to explain but hey - what the hell, I am writing this, with my tennis picture above, which was me being 'tennis dad' returning serves and doing my best. Actually, in my own head I got quite good but that was then. I was so much older then, I am younger than that now. And you know what, I think I might get that good again. If I keep playing I could be a good (enough for me) vet (no, that has nothing to do with dogs n cats). But look at that grip and that walk, i have all the moves, you should see me doing Elvis, I can do that too. But its in the news today and not a lot of people know this but the picture on the right is the front version of the bum on the left! Well it was confession time, how could you tell otherwise? Its nice to sow doubt, of course... but Lucinda William's dad's name is Miller and he is a poet too, just like her. My Daughter's name is Abbi and she plays tennis - me, I pretend, just like the poem says better than I can, right now:
Love Poem With Toast, By Miller Williams
Some of what we do, we do
to make things happen,
the alarm to wake us up, the coffee to perc,
the car to start.
The rest of what we do, we do
trying to keep something from doing something,
the skin from aging, the hoe from rusting,
the truth from getting out.
With yes and no like the poles of a battery
powering our passage through the days,
we move, as we call it, forward,
wanting to be wanted,
wanting not to lose the rain forest,
wanting the water to boil,
wanting not to have cancer,
wanting to be home by dark,
wanting not to run out of gas,
as each of us wants the other
watching at the end,
as both want not to leave the other alone,
as wanting to love beyond this meat and bone,
we gaze across breakfast and pretend.
