When you touched my hand unexpectedly today,
while we were driving in the car,
I was just as surprised by the gesture
as I was by the butterflies. . .and bumblebees
and dragonflies that instantaneously
fluttered and buzzed
and skipped and darted
deep in my belly. In the millisecond that it took
for me to glance at your hand on mine,
I began crying beneath my Oakley’s,
for I was so joyous that you still love me,
and that after almost 20 years together
you can still do that to me.
(C) Edelweiss Meadows-Millstone
like a flash, while sitting down
and lifting the lid to find
my mother’s urine
and two sheets of two-ply
folded at the seam, floating,
the memory most mornings of
anxiety that another’s
would splash on me,
her informing me of her steps to not
and knowing, now,
that I can flush, and relieve myself
that her inability to throw things away
was even more pervasive than I first recalled,
that it seeped into her every action
and was tied to
her very physiology
unsure of what exactly
but sure as hell that
I’m going to tell it to my therapist tomorrow
i wish i could go bust these bottles in the middle of my street.
(they fit so well in my small hand like grenades)
throw ’em as far & hard as i can
flippantly & uncaring
over my shoulder.
the best part, the anticipation of impact
(while running wildly in the opposite direction).
away from conformity.
away from authority.
the unmistakable satisfiying sound
of poverty, hopeless teenage hood angst
when you hated where you lived
so much, you wanted to punish it.
make it uglier & meaner.
& you still do.
That’s what you said it would be
Like getting an oil change for $17.99
Or picking up fast food on the way
To your true destination
Do you think I don’t remember or
Do you just not give a shit?
Something you later apologized for
Only to dress up in different clothing now
“You’re great as something in-between”
Always so quick to let the zingers fly
Consequences be damned
You’re gonna get yours
Facebook tells me you’re doing well
So that’s good
i had a good nap today.
the kind where you don’t dream
and you don’t move
and you wake up confused
because the daytime swapped itself out
for the night.
dark doesn’t really come quiet
to the country.
crickets and whippoorwills are waking up too.
coyotes wail instead of sirens.
i can hear things moving under moonlight
and i doubt i’ll have peace before sunrise.
even the stars are loud.