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Odin Roark

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· Perceptions


· Prosetry at Work

· Said and Unsaid - Vol 1


Short Stories
· Pockets

· Poetic Injustice

· Letter To Friends

· Cave Cracks

· Bubble Choices

· Surreal Dummy--Still Here

· IT

· Faux Companion

· Take Me, I'm Free (Flash Fiction)

· Beer Neck Flower

· Discipline of the artist

· The Dogs of Sochi

· A Crow With Super Smarts

· Targets Be Warned

· Simple Times (an observation)

· Cavemen in Tuxedos (an editorial)

· Ghost Town Ghosts

· Note to Self

· Essay on Poetic Theory

· We Sometimes Weep

· Happiness Is...

· Maybe Tomorrow Night?

· MIrror, Mirror...

· Projectiles In A Cup

· Revisiting Culture Rot

· Enigmas

· Walking Meditation

· Time Traveling

· Maimed Innocence

         More poetry...

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Books by Odin Roark
Like No Other
By Odin Roark
Posted: Saturday, February 25, 2012
Last edited: Tuesday, May 12, 2015
This short story is rated "PG" by the Author.
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Recent stories by Odin Roark
· Pockets
· Poetic Injustice
· Letter To Friends
· Cave Cracks
· Bubble Choices
· Surreal Dummy--Still Here
· IT
           >> View all 52
Picturing unusual points of view for first person story telling brings on some interesting challenges. Thought I'd experiment a bit. Hopefully, it works.

Like No Other

Hanging chained sign

             am I

                     Established 1933

                               "Bakery" my name

Swinging through time my game

               just lettin' concrete canyon winds

                             wind their way around and through

                                            glass and steel hives of commerce



all around


Like a trapeze artist

                in perpetual motion

                                              I see

                                                       I hear

                                                                 swirls of




all day

every day

right here

corner 10th and 46th


Above me used to house hooker delights

                Below me once flowed oohs and ahs

                              Some from the bakery goods

                                              fresh from the oven

others from tourists

               mesmerized with this month's

                               shell game antics

atop unstable card table 

                                                                         To my left

                                                       Bus stop misery

                            Express and local depression alike

            Bench for daytime waiting

Slab for nighttime sleeping

To my right

               Pimps on alert

                                Hookers on the beat

                                                Down the block

                                                           Johns pulled to the curb


    Quite a location actually

One way or another

my corner will always traffic realities

Foreign to most

understood by few

 Got a mongrel dog as company

Beasty always stations himself

Trash can low to his left / Me high to his right

Doesn't bark

Never whines

Just howls his harmony


my pimp friend called it

Every once in a while

the preacher came by

placed his box on the corner

climbed aboard

raised his Bible

                                                      and ranted                                                      

  Hooker delights stopped

  Oohs and ahs ceased

Beasty took some nap time

While pimps


even "I love NY" tourists

would scurry to the cross walks


but here

their eye-rolls proclaimed

 Oh man...

here comes sunrise


I mean

Special Special





Hooker delights


Bakery scents...

It all used to be everywhere

Beasty was always at the ready

Got his bagel every morning

A smear of chopped liver on top

He was good for the day


Today is the day

Waitin' for the wrecking ball

Retirement time

Due to start at seven sharp

So while I can

gonna enjoy maybe

my last view

 It is...

It was

like no other

you know








Reader Reviews for "Like No Other"

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Reviewed by Diana Legun (Reader) 3/30/2012
For me, this is a neat tale, from a creative voice and all the more appealing because of that voice. The shape of text conducive to movement and then heading straight down. Personifying the sign gives the voice credibility for its absolute observation availed no 'person,' and when it gets to "Special/I mean/Special Special," there pulls out an emotion that matches the loss of 1933 coming to the end of appreciation in a simple word like 'Bakery.'

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