Starpoet by Lisa Jain Thompson
Newsflash:

Starpoet Newsletter Vol. VIII, No. XXXVI

Saturday, 01 September 2007 21:00 Last Updated on Saturday, 01 September 2007 20:30
 
The
Starpoet 
Newsletter 
Vol. VIII, No. XXXVI
 
 
 
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Blue Angel, In Passing
 
 
Time floods past us,
Swirling eddies of memory and expectation:
Today I was young,
Yesterday I was not,
Tomorrow I may not see.
 
I have no announcements to make,
No grand justifications for my life,
No clever rationalizations
For what I have done
Or what I may well do.
 
I am here,
In this moment of space,
Briefly connected to the universe and consciousness,
A comet falling sunward brightly,
Consuming myself
Until I am no more.
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2007 C. E.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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The end of August, the start of September.  The equinox approaches.
 
 
 
 
 
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What I wrote ten years ago September
 
 

A Rose for Diana
 
 
 

Merlin
 
 
Merlin came late
One night to England,
Weeping for his queen
Caught up in her intrigue,
Her life betrayed
By love's twisted humor.
In another world
Pendragon would be
The one to die
And Gwenhwfar,
The one to live;
In still another,
Love could yet win
And his magic restore
What might have been.
But not in this world,
And not with this queen,
Would his sorrow ever pass
Or his nightmare ever end.
 
 

The Long Watch
 
 
There are other stories, of course,
Other pictures that flash across the screen,
But none of them seem to matter much:
The long watch colors everything.
Buckingham announces
The formal schedule,
Serving only to highlight
The fall of Windsor
And the woman who would be queen.
We had expected to grow old with her
And now we will not.
 
 
 
Mist
 
 
The Saxon's did not destroy it
When Uther died;
Nor did the Romans
When Caesar led his armies;
Nor Germany
When rockets fell
Like fire from a wrathful heaven.
Has it come to this,
That England looks a beggar?
What hollow thing
Has brought itself to Avalon?
Mother, forgive them,
The mist falls heavy in the darkness.
 
 
 
The Road From Avalon
 
 
Visions of Shakespeare's kings:
Old Lear and scattered Henrys,
Dark Plantagenet,
And Will's own Queen atop the globe,
Majesty unending,
Tumbling headlong through the continuum
Until Windsor doth murder them all
And throws Excalibur into the northern sea,
Sinking King and Isle.
Traveling back through time,
Merlin pauses at Camelot
To grieve his fallen queen.
 
 

The Future King
 
 
Heaven's vault should crack,
She's gone forever.
W. S.
 
Her flag draped coffin is darkly met
By solemn guard in formal dress.
 
Her sisters walk in silence behind her,
Awkwardly paired with the Prince of Wales.
 
William and Harry wait alone in London:
She'll come no more across this stage.
 
Ancient mists enshroud good Arthur's isle,
The sword entombed 'til pure hearts can reign. 
 
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
Copyright 1997/2007
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
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 In order to know a community,
one must observe the style of its funerals
and know what manner of men they bury with most ceremony.
-- Mark Twain
Roughing It
 
 
 
 
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watching August fade
 
 
 
Stargate
 
 
 
Large yellow swallowtail,
Four inche rose-pink flower,
Window separating poet
From sun and summer heat.
 
Ruby throated hummingbird,
Hovering amidst green garden,
Searching for an afternoon buffet
Of honeysuckle and scarlet trumpet.
 
Stray squirrel slowly scrambling
Shade to shade to shade,
Wondering what possessed him
To wander outside his tree.
 
Seven hours until sunset,
Four or five until the storm,
Temperature continues rising,
Life quietly goes on.
 
  
Lisa Jain Thompson
September 2007
 
 
 
 
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^^\/\/\/\/^^
 
 
 
 
still tracking the weather while recovering from a cold
 
 
 
 
Barometric Falls
 
 
 
Thunder on the left side,
Sunlight on the right,
High clouds above the roof top,
Moving slower than the lightning.
 
A touch of rain, briefly heavy,
Enough noise to disturb the dog
Who seems to sense the barometric changes
When they're some distance over the horizon.
 
As the sky darkens, flashes become visible
Across the river, well above the city,
Rumbles echo like background radiation,
Dancing off trees and buildings.
 
Cedar, the ever vigilant border collie,
Now lies on the floor asleep,
Confident that his two legged mothers
Have everything well in hand.
 
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
September 2007
 
 
 
  
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^^\/\/\/\/^^
 
 
 
 
When a blood relative sobs,
an intimate friend should choke up,
a distant acquaintance should sigh,
a stranger should merely fumble sympathetically
with his handkerchief.
-- Mark Twain
on funeral etiquette in Letters From Earth 
 
 
 
 
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The Persons Involved
 
By Lisa Jain Thompson
© 2007
 
 
 
The Detective
 
 
It isn’t much of an airport but it is my airport.  I was working a plain-clothes detail in the main men’s public restroom of the Northstar Crossing in the Lindbergh terminal.
 
We had had complaints from civilians regarding sexual activity in the men’s room and had made numerous arrests.  Today was my day on toilet patrol.
 
Outside the weather was in the high 80s and humid.  The temperature was cooler inside the airport but hot and humid inside the restroom.  The men’s room.  I don’t know about the ladies’.
 
I entered the men’s restroom and proceeded to an unoccupied stall in the back.  Others were present,  doing their thing, using the restroom as intended. Some, if not all, of the bathroom stalls were occupied.
 
While seated in the stall – I was the third stall from the wall which was to my left (I found out later that my left was East) – I could observe the shoes and ankles of a the person seated to the right of me.  An unidentified person entered the stall to the left of me.
 
I could see his shoes and ankles.
 
At twelve-fifteen in the afternoon, I saw an older white male standing outside my stall.  Waiting, but for what?  He was about three feet away and had a roller bag with him. 
 
When I checked his drivers license later, I found out that the stander was W. Smith, a person of some renown in circles I didn’t revolve.
 
He was looking through the crack in my stall door.  Then he looked down at his hands and fidgeted with his fingers.  Then back through the crack into my stall again.
 
Then, as if someone had hit the replay button on a DVD player, he repeated the cycle for two minutes or more. When he finished, Smith’s blue eyes stared into my stall again and again.
 
I heard the toilet flush on my left.  As that man left the stall, Smith entered and place his roller bag against the front of the stall door, preventing anyone from looking under the door.
 
It has been my experience on the toilet patrol that individuals engaging in lewd conduct use their bags to block the view from the front of the stall.   Smith’s bag blocked the view.
 
From where I was sitting, I could see Smith seated to the left of me, his shoes and ankles.  He was wearing expensive dress pants with fancy dress black shoes.  His feet were much better dressed than the rest of the bathroom clientele.
 
After a few minutes, Smith tapped his right foot.  I recognized this tapping as a signal used by persons who wanted to engage in lewd sexual conduct.
 
He tapped his toes several times, all the while moving his foot closer to mine.  So I moved my foot up and down slowly, not wanting to appear unfriendly.
 
All the while there was this guy in the restroom to the right me and a bathroom full of people making rude noises and smells.   Smith did not seem to notice the smell or the other people and moved his right foot to where it was touch my left foot inside my stall.
 
Then I saw his hand sneak under the divider between our stalls.  Just for few seconds, moving from the front of the stall back towards the wall, then it disappeared.  His palm was facing towards the ceiling as his fingertips glided beneath the divider.
 
Then he swiped his hand again and I could see more of his fingers, up to the second knuckle maybe.  Then a third time.  More fingers and I could see it was his left hand because of the position of the thumb.
 
There was a gold ring on his ring finger that was visible when Smith’s hand was on my side of the stall divider.
 
In response, I slide my toilet patrol police I.D. under the divider over to Smith’s side. My hand pointed towards the exit, indicating that Smith should meet me but not the way he intended.
 
Smith shouted
 
“No!”
 
and I pointed again.  
 
Smith exited his stall without flushing the toilet.  I didn’t check whether he did any paperwork.
 
As I motioned for smith to exit the restroom, I noticed that not all the stalls were occupied.  Smith demanded to see my credentials.  I showed Smith my credentials again.
 
He kept asking what was going to happen.  I told him that we would speak in a private area and not causing a public embarrassment or a disturbance.
 
When Smith said he would not go, I told him that he was under arrest, that he had to go, and that I didn’t want to make a scene.
 
Smith went.
 
Once outside the restroom, in the light of day so to speak, Smith stopped and was hesitant to continue.  I reminded him that it would be better if we spoke in a private area.  Craig was hesitant, but followed me towards the Police Operations Center (POC).
 
When we got to the POC, I asked Smith to leave his bags outside of the interview room.  This is standard procedure for safety reasons.  Who knows what dangerous weapons lurk in the bags of toe tapping restroom finger wavers.
 
I asked him for his driver’s license.
 
He said it was in the his bag and then handed me a business card that identified Smith as a very important person and asked me
 
“What do you think of that?”
 
I sat his business card on the table and told him I still needed his driver’s license.
 
 
 
Smith’s Version (post-Miranda)
 
 
I am a commuter.
 
I went into the bathroom.
 
I stood outside the stalls for 1-2 minutes while waiting for a stall to become empty.
 
I have a wide stance going to the bathroom and my foot may have touched the foot of Person #1
 
I reached down with my right hand to pick up a piece of paper that was on the floor.
 
I am unable to remove my gold wedding band from my left ring finger.
 
 
 
The Detective (additional comments)
 
 
There was no piece of paper on the bathroom floor.  Nor did Smith pick-up a piece of non-existent paper.
 
During the interview, Smith disagreed with me about the events as they happened.  Or didn’t recall.  Seems to be a lot didn’t recalling lately.
 
Smith’s criminal history was clear.  We photographed, fingerprinted, and released him pending formal complaint for Interference with Privacy and Disorderly Conduct.
 
 
 
The Officer at the Door
 
 
There was a knock on the POC window and I opened the front window and asked the male person on the other side if I could help him.  He said his name was W. Smith and had been involved in an earlier incident [last week] in which he was “drug to this office” where he was handcuffed, fingerprinted, and interview.
 
I explained to Smith that I didn’t know what he was talking about.  When Smith asked for a contact that his lawyer could call, I contacted the Detective on the phone and he and Smith briefly talked.  Smith then departed.
 
During my contact with Smith he appearing agitated and demeaning even as I tried my best to answer his questions.
 
 
 
The Detective (Supplemental)
 
 
I was called by the officer at the POC door who stated that Smith was at the POC wanted to know the status of his case.  I had the officer put Smith on the phone.
 
I told Smith that I had spoke with the city attorney the day before.  My next group of criminal complaints would be submitted early next week and his case should be included in that group. 
 
When Smith demanded more information for the law firm that would be defending him, I gave him the office name, phone number, and the city attorney assigned to the case.
 
Contrary to what Smith told the other officer, I did not handcuff Smith on the date of his lewd conduct even though he was under arrest.
 
Later that week, I signed a complaint on subject Smith charging him with one count of Interference with Privacy and one count of Disorderedly Conduct.
 
INCIDENT WAS CLEARED BY ARREST.
 
 
 
Smith (after pleading down to a misdemeanor)
 
 
Let me be clear: I am not gay. I never have been gay.
 
They shouldn't be out to entrap people.
 
I committed no wrong doing.  I made a mistake when I plead guilty.
 
I don't do these kinds of things.
 
 
 
The Detective
 
 
It isn’t much of an airport but it is my airport.  I work a plain-clothes detail in the main men’s public restroom of the Northstar Crossing in the Lindbergh terminal.
 
We have had complaints from civilians regarding sexual activity in the men’s room and have made numerous arrests.  Today is my day on toilet patrol.
 
I enter the men’s restroom and proceed to an unoccupied stall in the back. 
 


 

 
 
 
 
 
__/\/\/\/\__
^^\/\/\/\/^^
 
 
 
 
 
 
There comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life
when he has a raging desire to go somewhere
and dig for hidden treasure.
-- Mark Twain
Tom Sawyer
 
 
 
 
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one last poem, lightly
 
 
 
Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang
 
  
A guy grabs my tit
-- No biggie
[It would be bigger
If they grabbed my butt]
 
All hands and testosterone
-- it comes with the territory
[I was the one who chose
To be at the party]
 
Dating games,
Girls and Boys
[Play with drugs
And grown up men]
 
Care free abandon,
Carefully planned
[No nuns shake their heads,
We're all adults here]
 
Men and women,
Nature's dance,
Hands, tongues,
Thrust and Parry.
 
 
Lisa Jain Thompson
September 2007
 
 
 
 
 
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PEACE
 
  
 
 
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Copyright © Lisa Jain Thompson 1995-2007. Further distribution of this newsletter in its entirety is authorized. Email your letters and postcards or visit her contact page at the Starpoet website.
 
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