No one between me and the goalie. Two more dribbles and I’d pick a corner of the goal and let it fly. Suddenly, this younger guy slips around me and kicks the ball away.  Passed me like I was a cautious old man driving the freeway. And like that slow grandpa with slow reactions, my former all-star taIent was instantly made irrelevant and left breathless.  From that point forward, I knew I would take more back roads, keep an eye out for anything that might accidentally cross i

on chilly mornings I walk with a shiver, blot my runny nose and eyes   this warming world has been an icy place for a while, unkind and pitiless   and where I live, November makes it even more so   Thanksgiving, Christmas and Hannukah may loom toasty and happy for some   while others, bundled and still cold,   look and wait for something, anything   to slow the tears of circumstance the tremors of misery

the saloons and back rooms of a cloud are where the crowds of mist drink and play cards, relax and quietly place small bets   but if a fight breaks out and turns into a scene of thrown punches and drinks, you know what falls from the sky   usually, however, happy faces pass overhead, laughing or talking to a neighbor, sometimes waving   because most of the time, a cloud is just a cloud