I used to keep a diary.
But I was so worried
somebody might read it,
I began lying in it.
Though I tried to keep it in check,
later, I published
it under the title:
***
My Perilous Journey to the North Pole.
*
Trefology thanks
you for reading,
writing
& arithmetic.
Sometimes I like
to stroll through
graveyards with
a notebook, writing
down the names of
people I might
want to hang out
with— someday.
*
Last week, I visited my dad high up in the mountains of Northern California.
He brought out a small box of cassettes he’d found while going through his closet—songs he recorded in the 1960s and ’70s, most thought lost. A previous box of recordings was destroyed during his last move—hours of songs and holiday reels, when he’d let the tape run all day, catching stray bits of conversation from relatives long gone. Then, at some point, someone would grab a guitar, a tambourine, an armadillo and the family would gather ’round the piano to play the old songs late into the night.
Anyway, somehow, these particular tapes got separated.
Fortunately for us.
So we spent the day listening.
A few of the songs hadn’t been played since they were recorded, nearly sixty years ago. Maybe played once for the family and then tossed in the box.
From time to time, I’ll post another here—starting with I Can’t Believe I’m in Love. Recorded with the cheapest drum machine available at the time, which my dad named Randy and speaks to in a Liverpudlian accent (“I was going for Scottish,” he admits.)
Be that as it may, it’s a catchy little song. I love it.
But of course I do.
I think some of you may as well.
Thanks,
I remain,
geo. RAYMOND
I Can’t Believe I’m in Love
by George J. Raymond
copyright 2025
*
‘Cause when I saw her, she saw me
She saw more than I could say.
And I can’t believe I’m in love
Mama you know I am always going to
be your boy. But oh, what a joy
And when I kissed her she kissed me
Like always my face turned red
And we jumped right into the bed
Mama you know I am always going
to be your boy. But oh what a joy
Now don’t cry, I’ve never lied
I’ve tried but I’ve never lied
Please tell me what to do, she
reminds me of you
(whistle break)
Pop listening to the songs long unheard
My mom says one morning
she opened the door to
take out the empty milk
bottles and found me in a
basket on her doorstep.
She said, pinned to my
pajama collar was a note
that said, “Mrs. Raymond—
This is your baby.
Please stop leaving
it on my doorstep.”
.
.
My friends always make
fun of my eye-glasses
with little windshield
wiper blades on them.
***
But, I know I couldn’t
be the only one who
reads in the shower.
***
Still, I wonder —
***
would my friend still be
laughing
if I shoved these glasses so
far up their ass that they’re
begging to own a pair, too?
***
My guess would be no.
.
Cartoon characters
can survive being
shot in the face,
blown up by dynamite,
and falling from
tremendous heights.
So to hear Elmer Fudd
died during a simple
appendectomy procedure
makes no sense to me.
.
The gangster got up
and walked into the next
room. But when he got
there he could no longer
remember why he got up.
***
“That’s the Doorway Effect.”
said Sancho, laughing.
“Just come back in the room.
Sit down. And the idea will
return to you.”
***
So the gangster did. And as
soon as he did he remembered.
***
“Oh yeh! Get the gun. Kill Sancho.”
.
I’m thinking about
the things we used
to do that rhymed.
***
Like, practice gymkata.
***
Get the stigmata.
***
Make some frittatas …
***
Eat quite a-lotta.
***
Yes, I’m thinking about
the things we used
to do that rhymed.
.
A new laundromat
opened on my block. And
I did my laundry the
day of the Grand Opening.
***
Later, my girlfriend
asked what I thought
of the laundromat.
And I blurted out, “Grand!”
***
But then I felt dumb
for using the same word
that was on the banner.
***
So I quickly added,
***
“Awe-inspiring.”
.
2.
3.
—Love
*
Love is
like a
river.
A terrible terrible river.
.
Writing
things down
seems like
a good idea
—on paper.
.
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What was eft is newt.
Trefology
t r e f o l o g y 