Frozen

The storm is over, for the most part. A few flakes still fall, like cotton candy...dancing. The ground covered in a thick blanket of white. Mountains of snow make the perfect playground for the children who got a day off from school.


Perched four stories up, looking down from my office window they look like colorful ants on a white ant hill. They scurry around manically. One builds a castle, another comes along and knocks it down. Fist fly, words are exchanged. And then just as quickly as it all started it ends, and the two warriors are now friends, rebuilding the castle...bigger, better.


A plow goes by, rumbling, throwing snow from the road; covering anyone and anything in its path. I quiver a bit inside as I watch a small bird fly away just in time. Seconds from a snowy, icy death.


The wind blows and I swear I can feel the building sway...like a Latin dancer holding his lover.


  I hear voices...soft at first, then as I focus they become louder... The television over my shoulder flickers. I squint, placing my attention on the screen. And it is that moment that I hear the words I've dreaded to hear....


"The ground hog has seen his shadow, six more weeks of winter."


I silently cuss. Then turn to the window again, the children are gone. The plow has destroyed their castle...the cityscape is a frozen tundra. The wind blows, and the building dances....


Six more weeks....

Roller Coaster

Somewhere between the dark and light
between what's wrong and what's right
just on the cusp of day, not night


You are there, telling me to trust you.


 I say is it trust, or just pure lust?
our bodies grind until they r dust
become one...we simply must


You lied, saying entrance was free.


Our bodies wet, a slip and slide.
looking at you my eyes open wide
entering in I enjoy the ride

Blind Man

The darkness is thick, It clings to the night like a slim fit jean on a hipster.


My eyes blink, trying to see. The nothing of black assaults me.


I search for you. Arms stretched out, steps tentative, stiff. I must look like Frankenstein in search of his bride.


I hear you, beckon. Your words dance just at the edge of night. They echo into the darkness causing a chill.


A breeze brushes my cheek. Soft as a butterfly wing, yet somehow sharp...like a knife.


I know danger is ahead. But you call out, and I follow.


I am a blind man.

Death and a Projector.

"God is good" the pastor screams into the mic, assaulting our ears. I always wonder if something is truth does it need to be combative, harsh ? And today of all days...


I look around the room, everyone in their Sunday best. Shoes polished, pants creased. Ladies in hats, tears hidden behind the sparkle of jewels and lip stick. Even I am "bowtied up".


The smell of flowers hangs heavy in the air, a sweet, sickening perfume. The organ screeches out a old hymn, A bridge over troubled waters...I think.


 I sit, silent...watching.


My mind races back...back many years. An episode of Knots Landing plays...Laura has died, the mourners have gathered, much like today all with their best foot forward. And then...then it happens. A projector starts, Laura's face appears. She speaks. To this day I get chills thinking about it. She lets everyone in the room know just what she actually thought of them all....the screen goes black.


Back in the church...Pastor yells "Can I get a witness?" in unison the crowd "yesss". Stoic, Geneva, the wife sits. Back stiff, hat cocked just right. No sign of sadness, fear...just a slight crack as her hand mindlessly twirls her pearls. I watch, anticipation...the pearls tight, look as if they want to run free.


No projector, No drama, no truth.


Richard has never looked better. In twenty eight years this is the first time I have ever seen him in a suit. He lies there, handsome. I have never noticed how handsome till now. Funny the things we see at the end.


Friends, family take the mic. Memories come. "Oh his sense of humor" "He was the best uncle ever" this man knew love" ...the words bounce around the room like a bat trapped inside a house.


"We are so blessed" says the pastor...and the church says "Amen".


Still...no truth. Where is the projector when you need it...

Mask

Underwear on, junk held just right
perfect fit, not to tight


Pants on, one leg at a time
a fit this good should be a crime


Boots on, leather and laces
god cant wait to see their faces


Shirt on, buttoned to perfection
caught my glimpse, what a reflection


Bowtie on, certainly not a nerd
I'm never gonna be one of the herd


Mask on, ready for this day
gonna make it, no matter what they say!

Comfort Comes...

How can comfort be found in you? Darkness, the unknown...fear circles just on the outskirts.
They say oil and water don't mix. But you, you prove that wrong. Your embrace is cold and icy, but somehow tender and loving too. Your words chilling, haunting, troublesome. But in those same words comes comfort, tenderness and love.
The path you lead me down is filled with landmines, waiting to explode, taking a part of me as they do. But the loss of a limb, my spirit or soul cannot stop me following you.
Everything about you is like a drug. I willing tie the strap around my arm, puffing the vein, allowing you to fill me, consume me...numb me.
I'm falling backwards, downwards...eyes wide shut. I know I will crash and burn, and you, you will laugh....and comfort will come.

Remembering

My mind whirls today. Flooded by thoughts of life. The long and short of it all.
I sit in my kitchen a cup of steaming coffee in hand, the rain assaults the window. The wind howls outside, the sound loud, much like a train engine. Fancy, my cat walks circles around my ankles, my thoughts interrupted for a moment by her need for affection. I bend, mindlessly petting her. It isn't long before my mind races back to yesterday...the call.


Hello
Orsella, is that you, what's wrong....
Calm down, I can't understand you...
Oh God, when did he pass?
I'm on my way...hold on love....


My best friends father passed from this realm to the next yesterday. It wasn't unexpected, but does that ever make it any easier? I went to her side, stayed with her and her mother all day. Cooking, serving food, listening...what ever they needed. I couldn't help but think back a few years, when it was me...my mum had passed. The feeling of shock, sadness...loss.


Geneva, Orsellas mum asked me if it ever gets easier...I swallowed hard, took her hand and said yes, yes love it will. I lied, but what could I do. Tell her the truth, with the loss still so fresh. What good would it have done to tell her the loss, the ache never leaves, we just learn to deal with it differently as the days pass. Eventually enough time passes and we are able to remember all the good memories, but in truth sometimes that makes it harder...makes us want our loved ones back. So I lied, I lied to help someone I love get by.


I think back to all the people who did the same for me, and I'm grateful. My heart was so broken, how could I have handled knowing the truth? Some days now, the memories hold me like a warm blanket...but not then, then it all seemed to much to carry. Even now, sometimes the thoughts, memories overwhelm...but some days, some few, blessed days I take comfort in them. I allow my self to stay in them.


Today, the rain falls, the wind blows...and I...I am remembering...