Applesauce, Rogaine & a Poem

The house smells of apples and cinnamon. I was given a ½ bushel of apples today and when I got home this afternoon, I started pealing and made my first batch of applesauce. It’ll be good in the morning for breakfast, as it’s cool and wet here. There’s nothing like warm applesauce. I normally make my applesauce during the baseball playoffs and World Series, but I gave up on the big leagues before the All Stars this year. The Pirates just couldn’t get it together. All my baseball watching this summer was in minor league parks.

A former friend of mine gave me a shirt yesterday. My former friend recently retired from Pfizer where he ran medical test on drugs. The shirt he gave me is an advertisement for Rogaine (the hair growth stuff). Interestingly, this drug started out as way to reduce blood pressure but when they tested it topically, they found out it was a natural hair fertilizer. As anyone who knows me could testify, I am not the best person to go around advertising Rogaine. When I mentioned this to my former friend, he laughed and told me to tell them that I was in the placebo group. Did I tell you, I use to have a friend?

Additional note on Rogaine & Politics and my balding head (September 29): The shirt I'm wearing in the picture is wrinkled because it was presented in a package that resembled a comb. It's also a very thin and cheap shirt--probably because the drug company doesn't really expect anyone to really wear it. After all, who wants to advertise that their full head is the result of hair tonic. There are other drugs that people wouldn't want to advertise either. I wouldn't think I'd want to wear a shirt advertising Viagra, which I don't use either, but that didn't stop former Presidental candidate Bob Dole from going on TV promoting it. Sometimes I wonder how far Republicans will go to make a buck. Suppose I should ask Tom Delay. As for my head--if my former friend gave me samples, should I use them? Or should I shave the top of my head? I haven't been able to shave my head cause there is still too much hippie blood in me.

I haven’t written any poems lately, but this is something I came up with this afternoon.

The dreams of a Balding Man…

After much lingering silence
will I recall the first time I gazed into her eyes,
soft like a doe?
After much lingering silence,
will I remember gently touched her lips
with my finger’s tip before our first kiss?
After much lingering silence,
will I remember how she tasted and responded
when I licked the nape of her neck?
After much lingering and too much silence
I’ll raise my glass, toasting her beauty,
and the clinking of the ice awakens me
from what had been a pleasant dream…