Friday, May 20, 2016

Mise en Place

All day long I set things in their place
before it begins
this here
as it goes along
that there
Sometimes I am led to believe
people are fooling with me
How quickly and erratically
things become misplaced
trash in the lemon bowl
dirty plates where the lattes go
straw wrappers litter the floor
At best, I am a babysitter
that does not have permission
to tell the children, "No"

All day long I think of food and sex
our first dinner 
would be
a garden salad
and steak
Something simple but elegant
the bed already unmade
How else could we enjoy the meal
if we do not have
a few moments first
to say grace and please and thank you
bodies pressing together
Like palms, pressed together in prayer
both asking for nourishment
it is now blessed, "Amen"

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

About Anything Else

I got sixteen hours of sleep last night
Woke up sixteen minutes after midnight
and I think I said, "Hallelujah"
as I did the math in my head
I woke up again at 1:45am
killed the ice water by my bed
reluctantly put both feet on the floor
and refilled my pink, plastic cup
to the brim
At 3:54am I got a message from you
You said you were sorry
I said I was sorry too
Just a coupla girls texting each other
at four in the morning
trying our best to be friends
and not boyfriend replacements

I do this all of the time
Just forget any indiscretion
because none of it is important
The only things that matter to me
are listening with all of me
believing in basic human decency
remembering I am free
and sleep
If I throw back a few drinks as I go
look someone in their eyes
and feel at home
spend too much time on a patio
cry my heart out over a poem I wrote
always find myself in good company
It doesn't mean I am lucky
I think it means I am deserving

Saturday, May 14, 2016

Dreading the day you died, again.

Each year as your birthday approaches,
arrives, and passes I feel thankful. Prepared.
April is full of life and poetry and plans.
Then May appears and the dread sits in.
I count it down, twenty eight, twenty seven
...fifteen, fourteen days until you die again.
The mental preparation takes a back seat
to remembering what I choose to forget
every other day except for May.
Sometimes, I try to paint you as absent anyway.
Other times you are a hero, Superman,
and the funniest person I have ever known.
I make jokes at work that I need attention
because my father never loved me
and I get a good laugh from my heart ache
but we both know how I stood at your wake
and told the story of a man who loved
with all of him but never knew how much
was enough or how to say such a thing.
I love you. 
It really is that simple, Dad. 
I am sorry it was so hard for you.

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

We Almost Held Hands

I keep playing the entire night
over and over in my mind
I let go and let it happen
and when I woke up this morning
I couldn't stop thinking
did it work? Did I do all of the things?
I don't even know what the things are
that invite people to love you
But I do know
you should be honest
even if you're bullshitting
I know one should never take more
than what is yours
I know that when someone kisses you
it is the greatest kindness they can offer

I keep playing our dialogue
over and over in my mind
some of which I forget
but I remember telling you
you are always welcome here
and you can have me in any form of dress
When you picked less
I think I married you
If this is scary, if I am too much for you
Happy Trails, Pal
My little dresses are for me
and my bed has never made itself
the Alstroemerias do not water themselves
I am here
with or without you

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Quickly: Without Attention to Detail

The day drinkers will all agree with me
attention to detail is for the Saints
and they would much rather tangle with
the madwomen and the straights

However, I disagree with all of me
I want nothing more than to meet
the eyes of the hands that untangle everything
I think we'd be better off if I said what I mean

It is easy to forget about responsibility
I do not mean bills or rent or loans
How is it not obvious? You are an adult
You are responsible for your own happiness

Your mother no longer offers her tit
Your father can not fit you on his hip
You want to go up and down up and down
That's fine, but being caught is not guaranteed

This last little bit of advice is free
If your culture is a scene you're not uplifting
If your language, skin color, or upbringing
never once hindered you from being you
You have no right to complain about anything

Tuesday, May 3, 2016

The Muse Speaks: Soft and Simple

it is overwhelming
casting lines and spells
on tunnel visioned girls and boys
so the muse visits to calm me
whispers sweet truths and nothings
You are always welcome here

believe me when I tell you
i live so presently
that the past means only to me
that I can see the future
in a grandmotherly,
if not, witchy sort of way

and déjà vu is not Groundhog's Day
it is more like a glitch in the matrix
pay attention to
what those feelings of familiar
are showing you
at least that is what I do

on a day like today
when i felt completely unprepared
but showed up anyway, I am here
press play, say whatever comes to mind
because i am soft and simple
and the muse speaks to me