I warned her not to shake her bottle of 7-Up.
Did she listen?
I warned her not to open her bottle.
Do you think she listened?
When the fizzy concoction exploded onto her face,
and I saw her eyes as wide as saucers,
Do you think I laughed?
Indubitably!
Look at these drawings I made, aren’t they nice?
Look at your characters I drew, with their fluffy
green hats and red freckles. Did you look at the post
I made, the one with the joke? Did you laugh? Look
how funny it is, I am howling! Look at how sad
my character is. Did you see, did you comment?
Look at my profile, it’s so empty! Did you see
I am free to draw? Did you see I have been writing
more recently? We can write and draw together!
Did you see?
Do you see me?
Please look.
when your bones ache
when your heart is heavy
when the sun beckons and beams
when you only get one of this day
forever
is it okay?
is it okay to stay in?
to rest or to recover
when you only get one
and the wind is so lovely
Out and about here ain’t no place to meet the love of your life,
But the streets are as good a place as any to leer at a lady that looks like her:
Elisa Leigh Beauty Queen,
Barely pushing eighteen with the same reckless determination that
Sisphylus hauled ass up that hill.
Ol’ man sees her in the dairy aisle and thinks to himself,
‘Girl that pretty has no right to be in a place as beat down as this.’
Blowing smoke out the window of his beat down Toyota,
Leaning her head against the rattling plastic of the door as the engine
Kicks into the next gear.
Each inhale has her chest expanding in the confines
Of her see-through white tank top,
Making it real hard for him to keep his eyes on the road
Even when she ain’t doing a damn thing but breathing.
She must’ve made him feel like a real man,
Batting her long eyelashes at every new experience he introduced her to –
And every single one of them was, mind,
Cause she herself is so damn new.
The whole town’ll talk about them being seen together,
Churning up the rumor mill over the way she holds his hand in public,
Aiming eaving ears to every hushed whisper they speak.
Ain’t it just like a girl like that to go and seduce a man old enough to be her daddy?
When she grows old enough to know to want better than him, he’ll drown
Himself in the bottle,
And the men in town’ll say,
‘Poor man, I’d be grieving too if I lost out on one that fine and fit,’
While their wives’ll shake their heads and say,
‘Damn fool, should’ve known better than to rob that golden cradle.’
When God and Satan
sat down to Tuesday brunch
and discussed the fate of a man named Job,
did they reminisce about the days before Lucifer fell?
In the years after Job’s death,
did he join in the Tuesday brunch tradition?
Did he get the only thing he wanted when his world crumbled?
A seat at the table.
It’s two a.m. and I can’t sleep
I’ve tried the usual tricks
Taking long deep breaths
Slowing the chatter of my mind
Feeling my limbs go numb
But my consciousness hangs on
Unwilling to let go.
Even with much to worry about
Everything is calm as thoughts toss
Carelessly among themselves
Unable to find the unmarked line
That crosses into a hazy realm
Where with the slightest shift
The unbelievable turns real.
Once there, I can drift or be anchored
Take on various faces, clothes or shapes
Sudden change comes in momentary flashes
Thoughts alone color the landscape
I know well places I’ve never been
Where new faces of intimate lovers
See an unfamiliar me.
I have finished the last of my tea
Watched the moon rise into the mist
I’ve stretched and peed, the bed
Opening with a welcome now
Holds me aloft, soft yet firm
As I descend into darkness to step
Across the mysterious threshold.
A scintillating phrase skips across my brain
so I fumble inside an over-sized purse–
chap stick, 3 quarters, a penny
& a hairbrush–determined to snag
a favorite pen. Its comfortable
grip, smooth tip
might glide across my notebook page,
& cage words before
poof!
they’re gone.
Possibly I left the pen on my desk
or a nightstand. Near a book I’m reading.
Maybe I’ll retrieve floating words
and my pen.
What’s missing may reappear
in a quiet hour, a dream
or not at all.
[Best I can manage today is some lyrics for my band to sing about our buddy who drank and drugged himself to death.]
