Poems

Not Poems and Short Stories

Because books of poetry are not as "in demand" as other genres, small print runs are often most economical. Really small. So small in fact that both copies of the first printing are spoken for. More are on the way. Here is an excerpt.

Tim.

The day I got the job as a human cannonball

My First day in New York

The day I got the job as a human cannonball

I am the human cannon ball, I got the job today
They hired me once, and now they fire me seven times a day.
I am the human cannonball, the last guy came and went
They have a wall at the other end, his head left quite a dent.

I am the human cannonball, I took the job, you bet
the ad said "lot's of travel", and "you'll learn about the net."
I am the human cannonball, I have a lot to lose
My rival fills the powder, my ex wife lights the fuse.

I am the human cannonball, I'm in the air awhile
So long in fact, the circus offers "frequent flier" miles.
I am the human cannonball, and man, I really soar
When I miss and hit the ground then man it's really sore.

I am the human cannonball, they wanted someone fatter
They told me when I hit the wall I'd make a bigger splatter.
I am the human cannonball, they tell me "get no thinner"
If they want me to get bigger they should shoot me home for dinner.

I am the human cannonball, The circus I denounce
"The Rubber Man" now runs the show, of course his checks all bounce.

Top

My first day in new York

The smell woke me up. Not a bad smell, but a hazy unfamiliar city on a hot morning smell. Having arrived the previous night from Fort McMurray, Alberta, Canada, where the October snow was thinking of paying a visit, the warmth of the city sun was inviting. I left room 323 at the McBurney YMCA on 23rd street, across the street from the legendary Chelsea Hotel, and walked south toward the village. My first time in a really big city. I loved the noises and smells. Well, maybe not all the smells.

In search I went for the technical school where I was enrolled for a year long course. For some reason, my expectations contained an ivy league campus with lads in sweaters tossing a ball as girls watched from under the old oak tree. Not being used to the ways and wiles of the city, imagine my surprise when I saw that this Institute of higher learning was on the second floor above a supermarket.

I spent the fall day wandering around Greenwich village, checking out the New York University campus, occasionally looking up through the sunny city haze. Boys and girls strolled hand in hand. Boys and boys strolled hand in hand. What a place.

F'inally I found the perfect spot on a bench in Washington Square Park just under the trees in the city shade to skim my new book - New York on $10.00 a day.' After a few pages I noticed an older fellow sitting next to me, feeding the pigeons. City pigeons.

I continued reading.

He started with some small talk, "nice day" etc. "you must be here on vacation" he said, reading the title of my book. "No I just enrolled in school here today". His name was Sid. Sid was a nice guy. Friendly. We chatted and he asked my name, where I'm from. I told him.

Sid paused and slid a little closer and smiled at me. "So Tim." again Sid paused. "Which way does the wind blow?"

Tim: "Pardon me?"

He repeats. "Which way does the wind blow?"

Sid stared into my eyes. I didn't quite know what he meant - then it dawned on me. This guy has obviously never been to northern Alberta in the wintertime.

Tim "Oh it'll be blowing tonight, my friend. And I mean all night long"

Sid: "Wow. that's good news."

Sid seemed almost giddy about my weather report.

Sid edged closer."Where are you staying now, Tim?"

Tim: "At the Chelsea YMCA, until I find a place."

Sid: "The YMCA on 23rd? I love that place. I've had some great showers there."

I thought to myself "Sid must be in the wedding business."

Sid: "You know, Tim I have a beautiful brownstone apartment about eight blocks west of here."

Tim: "Oh?"

Sid: "Yes, and I have lots of room. I often accommodate handsome young students."

Tim: "Well, I am on a pretty tight budget."

Sid: "I wouldn't think of charging you anything. You can stay for the season." Sid slid even closer "If you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

Well, I had to sit back and think about this for a second. I've been in New York less than 24 hours, and some guy wants me go to move in with him free of rent. And all I have to do is scratch his back now again."

Tim: "Fantastic, I'll take it. In fact, let's go over there and have a quick poke around.

Sid: "You mean right now?"

Tim: "Sure. I have some time to come over and take a sniff around your brownstone."

Sid must have been looking for a tenant for a long time, because he sure was happy. As he hurried us along to his place, I soon realized the reality. I may be from the small town, but I'm not blind. Sid lived way too far from my school. I needed a closer place.

I had to tell Sid the bad news. Tim: "Sid, I think you're living on the wrong side of town. I'm not into going that far every single day."

Sid: "How about every other day?"

Sid handed me his business card and said "I understand if you aren't into it. Some guys are and some guys aren't. Call me anytime if you change you're mind, Tim."

As he walked away, I thought "Even in New York, there are some people who just want to help."

Tim: "Yep, I'm going to fit in real good here."

"Not poems and short stories" written and illustrated by Tim Crich.

ISBN: Pending

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