for my dear friend danielle
locks of tangerine summershine gleam
parted like a lively street
a row of power lines in between trees
sun splashed countryside
a rose colored daydream
you are a cherry-flavored drink
sickly sweet
wild as the daffodils that
line the streets
freckled like little strawberry seeds
i wish you knew
velvet roses in midsummer bloom for you
and tulips come springtime do, too
Through held hands around the
ring of smiles and laughs,
down to our feet as we circle left,
then right, swing, do-si-do, and promenade.
As we switch partners and
tap our feet between moves,
find ourselves skipping to the beat
as we circle, a hop in our promenade,
a sashay here, a rip and snort there,
we move faster,
exchange glances and grins, then
come together for a holler and holler again,
come forward with clapping and
shout our thanks to the band.
Taking stock of the blood vessels in my eyes,
I blink twice for every second of sleep lost
conceiving tomorrow’s fixation.
This is a calculated undoing.
Now comes the part where I do it again
I didn’t see her
the way she was,
young and thriving,
instead of constantly dying.
Migraines
Seizures
Kidney Failure
Blood Clots…
pain driving her
to abuse drugs
and drive her away
from who she was.
Headstrong to defeated,
words of understanding
turned to arguments, heated,
and playing games and laughing
on the living room floor
turn to sore beatings
and abusive scorn.
The years passed,
and she got worse,
fighting with her husband,
her own son,
constant fighting with those
she loved.
I was the only one
she didn’t fight with
because I walked on eggshells
did as she asked
too afraid to argue
even if I didn’t trust the task.
After she died, I felt guilty,
because while I was depressed,
my heart a mess,
relief washed onto the shore
of this tragedy.
The days of walking on eggshells
had ended…
I was free from the abuse
of her misery
yet she was my mother
how could I think this of she
who gave birth to me?
The living room folds
into itself, and I too
collapse in softly.
Dreams flood like sunlight
to kiss the back of shut eyes,
waking me gently.
This time you get to choose
How badly you want to lose
Exactly how you want to get screwed
And your choice in flavor and type of lube
So we’re watching this debate while
Arguing between who’s more immoral
Or senile
They won’t answer direct questions,
Just backpedal, deflect, lie, avoid
Or freestyle
So before I finish this drink and reflect
And think about how I’ve lost all respect
For the executive branch, and how I’m inclined to reject
Either of the two that remain that we’re allowed to select
I thought of letting my oldest stay up to watch
What could potentially be one of the last
Times before presidential debates become a thing
Of the past
Because what you’re watching live on your TV
Is possibly the beginning of the end
Of this great experiment
In democracy
*Shout out to the Washington Post
we drove by two old general stores last weekend
you know the ones, wood floors, dark, canned food,
little ice cream cups with little wooden spoons,
serving the needs of our backroad communities
(ours even had a post office and its own zip code)
they’re long gone now, of course, and it makes me wonder
do I enjoy the memories of them more,
or how easy it is now go to any box store and find my ice cream?
I’m running out of energy
I get drained so easily
I’ve always been so tired
I was born under a fluorescent light
At nine in the morning
It rained and rained
Trauma seeped and poured all over me
Such an oily thick tar
I wonder if the nurses worried
Or if they didn’t suspect a thing
