“Homebound Trolley With a Bag of Goodies”

“Homebound Trolley With a Bag of Goodies”

Rushing to get home.

Away from the maddening crowd.

I am the crowd.

Loud, stinking.

Stuttering action.

You have to get on the Trolley, before you get on the Trolley.

Elbows, and crooks, and backpacks, and fumbling awkward.

Stink eyes, bitter beer faces, clandestine farts.

Soy sauce dreams sailing along.

Vinegar fumes from Conversed feet.

Making good on promises.

The Hobbit hole awaits at Bag End, line’s end.

“The Turn”

“The Turn”

All of the people that sit at my table.

All of the people that sat at my table.

The names, the games,

still frame my heart.

The seats once full,

empty over time.

The seats once empty,

fill over time.

The grand game.

Eyes, gestures, stories.


Round and round.

Strategy is sometimes called Stradgedy.

Human tragedy.

Human joy.

Passing time in the fellowship of friends.

Hold your cards close to the vest.

Bluff your pants off.

Roll the dice.

So, put some skin in the game,

and ante up.

“Timeshare Chicanery”


“Woods Hole Harbor” © C.P. Hickey 2009




“Timeshare Chicanery” *


Come at once!

Make haste, you’ve won!

For your time,

a handsome sum.

You don’t have to buy,

despite our best try.

You’re free to go.

Just a moment, though.

Sit inside this hotel multi-purpose room,

and listen to our pitch.

You can have a free blender,

even if you ditch.

Let’s share some time,

and time some share.

A few weeks a year,

now that is all we ask.

Are you and your new spouse up to such a task?

Imagine, yourself in a warmer clime,

just sign here,

upon this dotted line.

Floridian, Caribbean,

abroad in some exotic place.

If those aren’t the weeks you want,

you simply trade your space.

Our industry depends on you,

we value your inability to say no.

Once we get a foot in the door,

it’s nigh impossible for you to go.

So, come at once!

Make haste, you’ve won!

You’re luckier than most.

Sign upon the dotted line,

and enjoy a sunny coast.

Two weeks a year,

is all we need,

to puff our bottom line.

We depend on rubes like you,

you are our favorite kind.

*seeded from a phrase offered by, E. Vickery