The bottom line is this. . . and other words of truth
Advice
Grand gestures,
romantic
or absurd,
doesn’t matter,
every woman
loves them.
*
Alleyways of Shadows and
Sidewalks of Sunlight
You live here a couple years
and you get to know
the ins and outs and
the ups and downs of the place.
You come to realize that
you can live in the city,
or the city can live in you.
Once you move on,
you know you are changed.
The time you spent there
has shaped something inside.
It’s left footprints or clawmarks
or the bruises of a stranglehold.
Somehow it’s been inside you.
*
As Chairs Should
To be funny,
he had purchased chairs from
the waiting room of an insane asylum
and placed them in the hallway.
It was not funny to her at all.
When he was at work,
they would mock her.
It was only when he was home
that they would stay quiet,
behave as chairs should.
*
Aubrey
Soft,
intelligent,
and she loves me.
*
Bound
Laying listening
to the second soundtrack
of Dirty Dancing and
enduring a seemingly endless
flashback from which
I can’t escape
*
Burden
Heavy and unwanted are
the problems
late in settling
on our shoulders.
*
Darting
She feared the age of things,
the stories they held.
She was afraid they would grab her
and mercilessly never let her go.
Torturing relentlessly,
the spiral would trap her
in an inescapable lockbox of
paranoia
where the ceilings were low
and from time to time
the walls would close in.
*
The Dreams of Little Girls
Many fairy tales have been born
beneath the cover of bed quilts
in a land lit by flashlights and glowworms.
There atop snowy mountains of pillows,
princesses are crowned in jeweled sleep
as they wait for the kiss of a fair prince.
Maidens of dreamland dance in meadows
and the great halls of castles –
their silken capes checked at the door,
carriages waiting at the gates.
*
enya & jd’s breakdown
The swell of stinging tears lingers
just beneath the surface
that only he understood
and was afraid of just the same.
*
Fading
Hours become days
and days slip away.
Months become years
and life slips away.
*
Fingerprints of Explosion
Bullets –
the riffling
of sharp grooves
on soft metal
at high speed
and under heat
the fingerprints of
explosion.
*
Foolish Dreams
The foolish dreams
of little girls
fade with a flash
and are gone.
They fall like stars
from an unforgiving sky,
seldom seen
seldom missed.
Foolish dreams
like castles of sand
crushed by the force
of the waves.
The foolish dreams
of little girls
fade with a flash
and are gone.
*
Gravel and Corn Dust
The thought crashed into my mind
like a thunderbolt –
a million electric flashes.
In that same driveway
where your dreams had been crushed –
your heart torn to raw shreds –
my ending was different.
It was soft kisses and opened doors.
Now your love is married
to a love of his own and
two giggling kids,
while my heart and I are
still in search of ourselves,
unsure what the future holds.
*
He Killed Desire
He killed desire –
the succulent bliss
of laying around
enjoying a juicy day
together.
*
The Heights of Absurdity
I eat cinnamon tic tacs
drunk
in some ridiculous and feeble effort
to spite you.
5 of them,
as I wait –
wishing
I had grabbed those words
before crossing the threshold.
*
The Irrationality of Logic
the lines and the lyrics
the maybes and the might haves –
all come from the same place,
and it’s not your
heart.
*
It’s Complicated
it’s complicated,
he said.
I still don’t know
what that meant.
*
Lives in Transition
Ours are lives in transition
constantly changing
from one scene to the next.
How we got from mark A
to spot B, we do not know,
for it is unknowable
how Fate guides our movements.
*
My King
His heart, the heart of a lion,
knows no fear
and his loyalty no shadow
He is my king –
the liege whose love
I beseech
His kingdom follows
not by war,
but the peace borne
of his grace and humility
He is of generous spirit and
benevolent hand.
Of his kingdom he is respectful
and by his subjects, respected.
My liege, we love you,
they cry as he passes,
riding with head held high.
He is regal –
his backbone fierce
and eyes kind.
It is a great man that
rules not by what
the world sayeth he ought,
but what his heart
knows is true.
*
Paranoia
Paranoia is
waiting to die
some tragic death
at the hand of a faceless author
of a hideous melodrama
having grown torpid
beneath the relentless fear.
*
Piled Up Secrets
A page or two each night
to read, to hold
as I fall asleep.
It was one of the secret wishes
he never told her.
Somehow
there came to be a mountain
of wishes and dreams
they never told one another.
*
Practically Prosaic
In another life
I might have
I might have been
the love of your life
Stolen all your kisses
and rested happily on
our stoop with
the baby on my lap
A boy
and a girl
and us
a family
Rural and
quiet
worldly and
beautiful
*
Reaching That Place
The first time I came to the City,
I was underwhelmed.
It didn’t scare me.
When I stepped off the plane
after having purchased
a one-way ticket,
I had second thoughts.
The trepidation poked at
the edges of my strength,
but I was supposed to be here –
to find myself,
or find out who I wasn’t.
*
Silence
I don’t want to laugh anymore –
speak no more than to
greet the world each morning
with snide derision.
*
The 2 of us R really 4
We’re even now,
he and I.
You were here –
are always here –
the two of us
are really four.
*
They Don’t Even Argue Anymore
The name of the song was,
They don’t even argue anymore.
She walked through the door
and straight up to the jukebox.
And, with the sound of
the cue ball hitting the 8 in the background,
reached up and slid her last quarter into that slot.
The speakers crackled as the albums shuffled
until the right one dropped.
That was just the way she felt –
like the worn quarter that just disappeared –
like the dry raspy voice of the singer
who overtook the room.
She felt spiteful and ragged,
done wrong and
left for dead.
The bartender set a highball of whiskey
– neat –
on the bar where he knew she’d take up a stool.
He just shook his head and continued drying glasses.
No one understood why she was alone,
who all the men were that let her down time and time again.
Where did she find them?
And how could they be such fools?
She stared at her own reflection in the glass. Then
picked it up and swallow the contents whole.
*
Untitled
She lays down the sketch
in a puddle of water
and the ink
begins to bleed
like she does inside.
*
Watching
I am invisible.
The faces that pass by –
just images through a pane of glass.
No sound,
but the far off murmur of
the dreams they abandoned long ago.
*
We Never Get There
It’s funny,
life is always happening
at a frantic pace,
and yet
we never become
who it is we want to be,
or get around to doing
what our life’s dream is,
fast enough –
indeed –
if at all.
*
Whispers of Genius
A haunting theme
hangs in air
over a dimly lit sidewalk
Inside those hallowed halls,
the ghosts and seedlings of genius
battle the inertia of mediocrity
and time
Dusk brings innovation
and dawn sees obsolescence.
*
Words, Sharp
Words, sharp
and singular,
exact in their
meaning
and intent.
*
Words, Sweet
Words –
sweet –
that I could not capture.
*
You are My Bookmark
You are the bookmark in my life –
with you I know where I am,
where the good parts are.
Posted by Amanda at March 05, 2005 03:16 PM
