Musings of JR Simmang

TIDAL WAVE They say, in March, my life will be a tidal wave. But, I don’t know if they know how tidal waves behave. The water recedes from the shoreline, laying bare the ghost of its silence, showing us the upset coral of thousands of stranded souls who never quite made it. Then, off in the distance, the penitent potentiality rises up to the sky in prayer, and hurtles itself, with all abandon, against the rocks and muck and grime as if shouting will never work the same way it had in the past. Its hammer-fist renders the cliffs to melting metronomes, the beach becomes an avalanche. Floundering, staccato becomes the life, and the line between earth and salt and water is erased by the hands of an angry toddler, who, incidentally, is crying to be held only to be shushed by a spinning, lighted mobile (the one with the soothing sound effects that could never replace, nor should ever replace, the beauty in the lullaby). If there were people, there aren’t now,...

For those of you who don't know, I'm slated to be a father in a few short months, and I could quite possibly, if I weren't restrained, dance in the streets every day, shake hands and hug everyone I meet, and whistle myself into a silly little happy-pile. It's my hope that every father-to-be feels the same way when they hear their littles are on their way. I know that some aren't. So, here are some things that I've come to learn as this process continues. 1. Do the right thing. I love my wife, wildly, passionately, and with every fiber of my being. Mainly, it's because she's awesome. Secondarily, it's because we've been through a lot together, and the spark still sparks. We talk to each other. We make each other laugh. We learn from each other. I'm lucky. I want to be here. I know some of you guys out there approach pregnancy with a cross, holy water, strands of garlic, and a plague suit. That's actually how you should approach the rea...

DOUBLE, DOUBLE, TOIL, AND… YOU KNOW THE REST Three of them at "Oracles Den", a novelty, which made me feel uneasily like MacBeth. And here I thought they just left off the possessive apostrophe. “Welcome,” said the ugly one with the mole. “To,” said the one-eyed ugly one. “Your,” said the last ugly one, the one with the hunched back. “Futures,” they all said in unison. Theresa, my girlfriend, stood there, mouth agape but smiling at the women (?). I couldn’t help but chuckle. I whispered under my breath to Theresa, “just don’t ask me to kill a king…” She responded by elbowing me in the side. “Hello, ladies.” Theresa has always been fascinated with fortune readers. Last year at the carnival we stopped into no less than 10 different tents, each with the same archetypal psychics: flowing sleeves on patchwork dresses, stringy hair, wild eyes, voluptuous lips, missing teeth. I, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to scoot on out of here. They motioned for us to sit dow...

So, we (my wife and I) found out we are expecting a little bambino in March. I haven't said much about expecting a kid yet because I've been at a loss for words. So here goes nothing: 1) My wife is amazing. Brewing inside of her right now is a person, a person who will one day walk and talk, who will make friends and lose friends, who will have to make tough choices like whether or not to fall in love or stay home instead of walking the dogs. My wife is going through changes that would make me break down and cry. Daily. And yet, she smiles and laughs ... and is still ticklish. She's amazing. 2) I'm going to be a father, which I still can't wrap my head around. In 4 months, my child will be swaddled in my arms sleeping, pooping, eating, and then doing it all over again. I'm going to be pretending a spoon is an airplane. I'm going to be throwing a ball to expecting hands. I'm going to be giving the "birds and bees" conversation, yanking o...

A cinquain: SHE NEVER USED WORDS I’ve practiced in the mirror the looks that I had tried to avoid growing up under my mom. -JR Simmang

This poem is a runner up in the Writer's Digest April Poem-a-Day challenge. The form is the Lai, the French puzzle. It drove me crazy the first time I wrote one. TELL IT TO THE COAL MINER'S DAUGHTER Our winter lands, hindered hands, tools splintered, breath rendered bland. [Sic] Centered, filled by her sand. -JR Simmang

Forewarning: this one's a little weird. TWO BY TWO The third arm scratched my butt before I realized I had an itch, so I said thank you as if it were someone else. The fourth arm, the one sticking straight from my left nipple tipped over Roland’s water cup. “Dude, watch out!” He lurched forward to catch the glass before it shattered on the ground. “Sorry, man. Still trying to get used to this.” One arm out my nipple, the other out my back. He looked up at me, his lip curling upward, his eyebrows cocked. “Bro, you are messed up.” “Yeah. I know. Thanks.” The single wing sitting on top of my head flapped, downy raining down around my eyes. I inhaled a feather. “What the hell am I going to do with this? It could’ve sprung forth from my back, all majestic and shit, and instead an anemic chicken somewhere is flying around in circles.” Roland burst out laughing. “Well…” he took a deep breath. “You’re going to have to drink it all.” “Fuck you.” “Do it.” “No.” “DO it!”...