My still heart beating around my fixed gaze, mischievous imp mocks me, places a bow in my manikin hand and an arrow in my wooden fingers. His ruddy flesh fashions my limbs into a dangerous tension. In my disbelief I hear his flushed cheeks command: “Take her out!”
-
OK, Cupid
–––––––
-
A small country ships the bulk of their export in one day to the US.
I’m stuck in prison. My country uses all their coniving to launch military resistance to get me out, sacrificing a whole years worth of export plus relations to the US for me.
-
What a beautiful corner of the universe I have here. No one take this corner away from me.
-
A Dracula is never a cure for a headache. At times, I need some beautiful soul to drive a wooden stake through my heart to get the point.
Mistaken
–––––––
-
Oh, mama, you laugh at me too much with your knowing smile. What have I got myself into this time? Regard as little tears and snot rubbed all over my sleeve, as if the ripping of my subject from my little hand was all just a bad dream. With loving eyes you take me all in and send me out to recess again.
Knowing Mother
–––––––
-
Nothing worthwhile ever gets done. When it’s finished, where’s the fun? For whom do you want to make this past? Aye, for them with whom we hope we’ll last.
Ditty
–––––––
-
Weary wounds down the sides of the front of my torso raw from my continually cutting you out of my lungs: I had made a bold play of it once; now I stare — take slow gapes of resignation. The fishhooks I withdrew — cut each one in half with my knife — they keep coming; there are so many now. I look up to the sky filtered through the surface of the water; who knows, maybe, of a sudden: Yank.
Gutted
–––––––
-
All I’ve left is me little torch. The grand visions on cave walls descend into darkness. Come. There is enough for two. Let us make a meal of it.
Companionship
–––––––
-
I’m in high school. I’m much older than this. Why am I here?
I have a megaphone. The high school seems to be in the street. School is over. I speak into the megaphone because I can; still, I don’t have much to say; I say “time to go home; school is over.”
None of the students pay attention — I didn’t expect them to.
My therapist tells me of a specialist she’d like me to meet. He’s a tall, thin, serious man. I bike there. I go down the street without knowing the street number, then look at the street numbers, realize I passed the place, and double back.
It’s a typical 3-story professional building with a hint on psych institutional care. It’s evening now. I look at the paper for the hours he’s available: 3 A.M. to 10 A.M. Hmm, I’ll have to come back during those hours. The walk-in bit is a surprise to me.
-
I’m in a swimming competition. I have to put on some fancy equipment in a certain procedure, one of the refs explains.
Brian and I both are in the competition.
I swim. I don’t do so bad.
On the return trip a swimmer latches unto me. I am pulling him a bit, then a ref blows a whistle on me and warns me no piggy backing. I’m nonplussed. He latched onto me; how could it be my fault?
“The water knows” he says.
It’s a fun game. I later think it might be fun to do the physical game over the internet with Jim.
The Water Knows
–––––––