Anthony Pretlow


She decides where the coffee cups go and when to use oil over butter.

She knows when the refrigerator gets cleaned or has far too much clutter.

She tells you to put the seat down and when you need to shave.

She didn’t marry you for your looks.

And that’s not why she’s stayed.

She has a meter for when the sheets get changed and when towels have hung too long.

She wears a grim face that cuts to the chase when you’ve done her wrong.

She tells you when you’ve had enough and when it’s time for bed.

She’s the one who brings stuff up for something that you said.

You have questions about what to do with your life?

Take it from me. I’ve been married four times, but

I’ve only had one wife.



The Addiction: I ain’t no fish.

It’s best that I ignore you. I’ve seen it all before. Your lure is as apparent as a knock upon my door.

There is no winner in this catch and release game. Taunt me from a distance. I’d see it all the same.

There is no central casting. No script…



Justice Clarence “Rastus” Thomas

What they’re trying to tell us is that we’re being controlled by religious-right zealots.

They’re stripping us of some personal rights with visions of Gilead within their sights.

While we’re keeping it honest. SCOTUS is lead by Justice Clarence “Rastus” Thomas.

In him they chose the whitest black man to serve as a surrogate for the Ku Klux Klan.

Women have lost their right to abort by Justice Clarence “Rastus” Thomas’s Supreme Court.

By the time it’s all been decided. SCOTUS will have grandfathered-in a clause for his interracial marriage,

I question the relevance of the judicial authority of this neo-fascist Christian minority.

The irony of it all has not been lost. Black folks have been betrayed by Justice Clarence “Rastus” Thomas.



Flip Flops

They’re worn instead of slippers. You’d wear them until they’re paper thin. You’d buy them from the shoe store stacked in a plastic bin.

In the early days of summer you turned away from shoes. You’d lose them in the sandbox. They were mostly pinks and blues.

They were held on by a toehold that came apart alot. You’d plug them with a stick. That was the best it got.

In their last days, your footprint was molded in and the peg between your toes had caused blisterin’.

In the latter days of summer you could use them with Birkenstocks, but never can you wear socks with your flimsy Flip Flops.




A grimace of acknowledgement is what you’ll likely see. Be it male or female or non-gender wannabe.

Words are not needed. It’s done at first glance. You’ve met with someone kindred. It’s time to do your dance.

It starts with the eyebrows. On both faces they are raised. That look of recognition. Your eyes reveal a glaze.

A tilt to soothe the neck strain. Your shoulders slump in duress. You arch your back uncomfortably. Non-verbals show it best.

A parting smile cracks your face.

Still nothing has been said.

It’s just a perchance meeting of two people with noticeably big heads.



Anthony Pretlow

Anthony Pretlow

Avid reader. INTJ. Artist. Editor. Baseball enthusiast. Devoted father of five. Sound money advocate. Happily married/ retired. Being right is overrated.