Posts for June 21, 2024 (page 8)

In low dance of clouds, winged serenades
a warm ocean breeze
romping with me
dancing shadows of trees.

Soft morning mist
pink setting sun
the kiss of soft fog
tickling rain drops.

Magic Monarch moment
blooms that leave me breathless
electric thread – your hand in mine
seduction of wild secret places.

Find something to love
let in wild joy
to mend the soul
recharge for the worrisome world.

Eyes clamped shut
at 47 minutes,the metallic taste of
anticoagulants
Behind closed eyes,
I visualize
Great nephew Mikah (6),
fighting leukemia,
Friend Pat (70),
fighting West Nile virus,
And Mom,
who donated blood her whole life,

In honor of and hope for them
I set aside my needle phobia
And donate platelets.

I’d walk into traffic
so you can reach out and grab my arm
to pull me back.
hold my

hand

I moved from Pity Street
to Envy Avenue last year.
My place is just off
Vengeance Boulevard.  

I have found it to be
a costly neighborhood,
but it is very quiet.
People silently stew
in their own juices
and leave me alone
to simmer in mine.  

Normally, to get where I live,
you turn right at the corner
of Venom and Spite,
but that intersection is
under construction.  

You’ll have to go an extra block
and turn at Bide-Your-Time Lane,
then backtrack to Envy.
Look for the gray-green house
in the middle of the block.  

Don’t mind the big dog
in the front yard. I’ve
had him since he was
a pup, and he’s a sweetheart.
No one would say the same
about his owner, of course.  

Once I moved away
from Pity Street, I found
that I no longer cared
that people liked
my dog so much more
than they liked me.  

Besides, I am way too busy
to think about such things,
for I have plans to make,
many, many plans.

protect us from fated future
 protect us from the kiss of another vehicle
protect us from debt and poverty
 protect us from illusions of friendship
protect us from bloodthirsty killers in the night
 protect us from irritated bigots in the day
protect us from wanting
 protect us from being most wanted
protect us from distraction by public relations politics
 protect us from hatred of our very own siblings
protect us from bugs that will make us sick
 protect us from hot strikes of gambled lightning

protect us from common death
protect us from unfulfilled life

A blow out on I-64 on the way home

from our last trip out

nixed that decision.

Pulls into parking lot,
Adjust mirror to check face,
Realizing, I again forgot to do so BEFORE leaving the house… at ANY point this morning.
No boogers, but a flake of skin that LOOKS like a booger…
Must. Remove. Darting eyes. Oh Lord, whose watching?
Was that perfect cute little 20-year-old girl watching me? Great, Now she thinks I am picking my nose.
Smile awkwardly, trying to think of clever words to throw in case needed. She is looking beyond me… I mean duh. Shit, of course she is walking in at the same time as me…
Me, in the same “dress” pants I wear at least once per week from H & M mind you… with the beltloop that came unthreaded, not held by a bobbi pen… Looking nice and frumpy, rockin’ my upper 30s, lookin’ like I have lived life as hard as Mick effing Jagger.
Dang. This little heifer wouldn’t even know who he is.
ALLL the Self-awareness kicking in…
Ugh, I didn’t shave… not to mention done my hair… in… God… two years? Shit. Did I forget to put on deodorant? (Sniffs armpits, attempting to look like wiping nose, I mean hell she already thinks I am a public nose picker.) Okay, shew. Fresh scent of natural, aluminum-free coconut-based deodorant… I will smell like onions in an hour. Bet she didn’t forget to shave.  
Okay, stalled enough to not walk in awkwardly at the same time as perfect girl. Getting out, slam car door a little too hard. Birds scatter in response to the jolting sound.
Okay, use hand or wrap shirt around hand to open the door…? Oh, use elbow to push automatic opener.
Oh, elderly ladies walking out. Do I wait? Let them out first, yes. But they’re behind the other set of doors still. Wait. Oh my god. I think they want me to go. I will look like an ass hole…
Okay, go in and make sure I press the automatic button again
and again
and oh my gosh again, because what if the other set of doors close on them as they creep along at their gradual rate.
Smile. Loudly chant “GOOD MORNING!” As if I have just made their day or something.

Oh. There is perfect girl. Of course, she’s in the same suite as me. Guess all vagi-nuh need gy-nuhs.
Chuckle to myself, amused with my little rhyme, while she completes her check-in, as I walk up behind her at a safe distance to wait in line,
still with the dumb smile on my face, she turns to face me.
Insert self for no reason, no reason except to fill a silence that needs not be filled, and would not otherwise have even been awkward, stating, “Yayyy, everyone’s favorite appointment!”
Oh Gawd, why do I insist on talking. She looks at me, I swear I see pity in her eyeballs…
Forces a grin, steps around me, because my dumbass steps to the right instead of left, and she takes a seat. Like a normal human.
Now it’s my turn, I have already fumbled around in my purse repeatedly for “the cards”… and I rehearse in my head, my doctor’s name, my name, my appointment time, and date of birth… All information I have had memorized for, ya know, most of my life.
Instead, I walk up to the counter and… drop my insurance card on the ground.
When leaning down to pick up the card, naturally my glasses slide off my face and onto the ground.
I wonder what my ass looks like as I bend over, panty lines?, and if perfect girl is assessing how inept this 36 year old divorcee is.
Make a joke. “Well, guess I needed that second cup of coffee, huh?” Desk girl is amused. She actually chuckled. Aw, she looks frazzled too, and replies, “Gosh, you and me both.”
Sighhh. Success. Moment done.

Now, don’t sit near perfect girl.

with beady red eyes, pus in their teeth, trickles of spittle from their lips, like rabid wombats in the trees along the street or the rocky hills of the park, everything tinted in low light, perpetual dusk, they love it here in the gloaming with just enough sight to make out their deformed shapes in the windows of skyscrapers, they stink of static and whiskey and old cigarette ashes and fights with wives and children, stink of dog shit and awkward conversations and missing friends and granite, all the things I stuff into a dumpster in my head until I have to rest and oh they love that dreamscape, they own the night.

Heat shimmers on concrete
           
                     Dogs pant open-mouthed
                                     
          Birds drink from tiny holes
                      In the hot pavement

Tree leaves brown early
         Drifting
                to
                   the
                           sidewalk

Children run through fountains
                  Adults stifling in suits look on
                           Wishing they could be so free