Jun 262007
 

and i saw the future wearing a walker and carrying a 40 ouncer in a brown paper bag. she lived in a basement apartment. her car was a total mess. she needed help carrying two bags of groceries and plucked me out among the silent and empty sidewalks to help…

and i help. i see. i mutter under my breath, “is this a sign God?”, “is this my kick in the pants?”

today is hot. humid. full of aloneness, with it’s sticky mess all over my skin.
i sit. i consider. i carry the garbage to the front of the house. i lie down. i consider. i nod off into the familiar world of you only now you just annoy me and i want you out of my head for good…

it’s late now. the day is gone. i’ll be tired in the morning. i’ll fight not to get out of bed…squeezing that last 5 minutes, pretending i have time, closing my eyes shut and holding my pillow…

and another day will come. i’ll get through it. and it’ll go. just like the so many that walk through the door never to be seen again. and i know they are all out there. living, breathing, walking through the day filled with worries or joys or hatred or depression or lustfullness or whatever. the days…they are testament to how much time i’ve wasted, how much i’ve done, how i’ve let moments slip through my fingers, how the sand inevitably will stop…

young and fresh, full of dazzling sunshine and hard rainstorms. soon, it’ll give way to changing leaves and long goodbyes. i’m learning to just get by on, “see you soon”…

Jun 252007
 

there ought to be a law. yep. you can’t become a parent unless you pass approximately 4 semesters worth of classes (full time). all classes involve writing essays, term papers and doing massive amounts of research and reading.

then comes the hands on part, a practicum of no less than 12 months when you are charged with the care of a special needs child. dumping the kid on family and/or friends is cause for automatic failure and a waiting period of 3 years before you can apply for child-breeding priveleges again.

if you pass, then and only then you may cautiously proceed with “planning” to make children.

perhaps then, those of us who try to get through our day as quietly and unassumingly as possible, won’t have the wrath of demon spawn thrown at us daily, hourly, every fucken second of the day…

children are not accessories. they are not proof that you have a wonderful marriage. they are not the ticket into the womanhood club. they are not a salve for an empty life. they are not your crutch.

they are living breathing souls where your priority should be to molding them into responsible, mindful, and productive adults. the word “no” should be used almost as often as “yes”.

you should want them. you should want to have them. plan for them, be ready emotionally, physically, and financially. you want neighbors and friends to like them, think they are wonderful, joyous, a pleasure to watch while you’re gone…

use your fucken brains you breeders out there…don’t keep making children that throw tantrums every day, all day long… kids who don’t know it’s not okay to put pencils in Fido’s ear or pull Kitty’s tail ’cause it’s soft. stop letting them get away with looking in the neighbor’s window, or jiggle their backdoor knob. teach them that reading quietly is also fun. take them to the fucken park for exercise instead of dumping them in the backyard, where they’ll torture the ants, and pull up those lovely tulips you planted yesterday.

we have enough fucko the clowns running around. we don’t need a constant supply being made to take their place…

Jun 222007
 

oh how you try to walk the square, the rectangle, an isosceles…looking for corners to rest in, hide in, walls that close you in their deep folds. you trust flat surfaces to gently support the flat of your back, the soles of your shoes, your hands as you hold yourself up…

but there are no folds, you’re under the perpetual bright light…you look behind you and it’s open space…filled with things corners can’t hide you from, things you get ahead of, then find yourself behind…when does this wheel stop rolling, when’s it time to get off??

ode to my bed

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Jun 102007
 

okay, i’ve been without you for about a year and this damned sofa-bed is killing me. no, i really mean it. it has developed a sort of dent in the middle and i can’t help but roll into it while i’m sleeping. i’m stuck sleeping on a slant. and still, i just can’t get away from what is becoming an abyss. even my soft sea green sheets (which happen to be my favorite set) can’t save me from the misery caused by that dreaded sofa-bed.

i need a bigger apartment. i need more than one closet. i need book shelves and another room to get lost in. i need more corners, more nooks and crannies, somewhere to hide from rambunctious boys playing overhead. i need more windows, more sunshine, a better view than the various knee-caps that parade endlessly by the screenless window…

i need dear you, my gorgeously soft yet firm mattress and boxspring…so i can once again dress you in my favorite comforter and sheets. i need you to bring me to more purposeful rest, to comfort me when my body aches from a too long run in worn down sneakers, i need you to absorb the stray tear…

june, swoon…

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Jun 032007
 

he doesn’t look a thing like jesus, but he talks like a gentleman…
the killers

and you don’t see summer coming…you’re mired with work…with cat diarrhea and ants that have taken residence in your too small corner of the world. oh, how you wish…

at the age of 9, you’re busy saving lunch money for a new pair of keds, you spend seemingly endless days in the hot sun, running, riding a borrowed bike, making mud pies with the neighborhood kids, wondering what teachers you’ll get come september, who’ll be in your class, who’ll take up the mantle of your new best friend…

at the age of 41, you’re busy saving lunch money by brown bagging it, you spend seemingly endless days indoors away from the sun and moon, run in your spare 15 minutes, forget about riding and sit on your rowing machine instead, ignore the noisy kids in the backyard, wonder what the next day will bring with it, who’ll be helpful, who’ll take up the mantle of your new best friend…

when do we get “the child” back? i suspect when we are too old and tired to care about work or about how it hurts to ride a bike. when we spend all of our time under the sun waiting for the moon to say hello. when we have the time to skip through rain puddles, and eat any damned kind of pie we want because we’ve accepted our round belly and sagging boobs.

june is full of 70’s am radio songs. it’s full of ice cream and laughter… long hot and humid nights watching tv because you can’t sleep. it’s i love lucy and the 4:30 movie on channel 7, it’s horsing around at the middle school park, swinging on the swings and collecting dandelions because they’re yellow and pretty… june is full of growing pains, it’s where 12 goes into 13, where eighth grade goes to high school…it’s full of puppy love, lots of blushing, and hand holding, first kisses behind the abandoned garage…

when did you go away, and when will you come back? are you hiding in that tomb where little girl stays, have you lost your way? or have i.