OMAHA, NE, USA

 

COUNCIL BLUFFS, IOWA, USA

 

OMAHA, NE, USA

 

COUNCIL BLUFFS, IOWA, USA

 

COUNCIL BLUFFS, IOWA, USA

 

OMAHA, NE, USA

 

OMAHA, NE, USA

 

OMAHA, NE, USA

 

   She Sans Spark

What was he to her 

   but darkness?

Opaque nothingness. 

It was as if the mirror 

reflection of his eyes 

had been removed

with nothing left behind but 

the jet-black felt.

Yes, light traveled in, 

but never outward.

Indeed, if you stood there before him,

you felt as if you were 

being absorbed.

There on the far side 

of obsidian eyes,

mighty stars collapsed 

to vast black holes; his 

dense gravity sucking in all 

reflective surface to the point 

you’d find every bit of sparkle,

every glistening facet… 

everything you’d ever 

found radiant about yourself…

dwindle    away. 

Indeed, everything that 

passed before his eyes

grew dull, dingy and    lifeless.

And this… 

This was who she was now.

This was who    she’d become.

  

So why did she remain?

If she was truly nothing,

why was she not   shed?

why not   cast off?

why    not    discarded?

Perhaps there, deep within her,

a small spark still remained.

Some aspect of inner incandescence

that he had failed to locate, 

   absorb and obliterate.

Perhaps that singular spark

was the one remaining thing 

he granted her, for without it,

how could he     define himself?

To be dark one must be relative 

to that which is light, and 

he would grant her that tiny existence

if only    to prove his own.

But what if she herself 

should choose to

snuff out that   

final spark?

What if, by her own hand,

all light 

ceased to be?

  

Ah, but there are alternatives.

Instead, what if she 

simply chose to turn away?

To look anywhere else 

   but at him? 

To turn into the wind; 

open all vents   to the soul. 

Embrace the wind and 

blow out the old cinders.

Bring that spark 

to a glowing ember.

Stoke the hearth of a 

diminished heart; 

incite the flame 

raging at her core.

Reclaim the torch,

   irradiate outward and 

   burn away    the darkness. 

Becoming a beacon 

of self import, she would 

move through the night, a 

shower of sparks 

trailing behind her;  

a wake of illumination, and 

she feeling the 

impending glow of 

supreme supernova,

whilst darkness 

remains nothing 

but a long 

forgotten 

shadow.

  

©05 Jack Hubbell

   My Physique

There comes a time when 

you know you’ve attained your

perceived pinnacle of 

athletic achievement.

For me, that moment is at hand, 

   and I must seize it.

I will become    a professional bowler.

 

Now I suppose I could have 

taken up bowling

a year or so ago, but no.

I was    different then.

I was toned.

   I was ripped.

       I was svelte.

I had just completed a season

touring with the     Chippendales.

 

I’m sure many of you are asking, “Hey!

Why the career change?”

Well let me tell you:

it’s hard work being a Chippendale.

Loads of physical and 

   mental stress. 

Listen: You wouldn’t know.

You have not done this.

 

For one, it’s    a sex trade.

Really.    No getting ‘round it.

You can talk up the art side of it 

   all you want but 

those women could care less

whether you’ve just executed the 

most perfect    triple    cabriole.

Deep down, 

what they really want is

perpetual    pelvic    thrust.

 

And then, of course all those

late nights fading to dawn as you 

sit there counting and stacking

thousand upon thousand of

sweat and oil soaked dollar bills.

It is an ugly    taxing    business.

 

So I quit.

Just let myself go.

Traded my six-pack abs in for

   a six-pack belly.

Hung up my G-string. 

Gave all that baby oil to my best buddy 

[insert your name here]. 

Parked my butter-butt in a barcalounger 

   for one whole year with 

nothin’ but a TV remote in one hand

   and a can of PBR in the other.

 

And yes, right about now

I feel I am at my physical prime to

dive into the grueling arena 

of professional bowling.

 

But let me be honest here.

I’ve got a bit of a hidden agenda.

You see, unbeknownst to many,

professional bowling has its sordid side.

Indeed, professional bowling

is overrun with       groupies.

 

Yup. 

It’s all about sex, and 

that my friends explains 

why I   look the way 

I do    today.

 

©06 Jack Hubbell