Sunday, October 22, 2006

Tell me what you want little birdie, tell me what you want

Twist you around and twist into me, twisting. Into you. It manipulates around, around and deep through the ceiling. 40 seconds pass too quickly and confuse. Me. And. You.

My calloused finger bends the wire, around and through. Maybe underneath. I make a hole and crawl into (the other side) is green and blue at 2 o’clock. Right now it’s half past and black. Come back next week she tells me. Next week. I forget and go somewhere new. Different, but the same.

She speaks in broken English and I wish for the same inflection. The accent makes her alluring and demure. Wanting, wanting, wanting for what you never were. She is telling me. Yet, I do not believe. Only a liar would speak so beautifully.
Convincing, almost.
But not quite.
I want to swim in the ideas she is spooning to me. I came so close. She fell short.
Good thing there was that money back guarantee.


Shopping for shoes always lifted her spirits.

Friday, October 13, 2006

Bow down sister, cause the brother has to go

Sweet, sweet baby
You spoke your first inaudible words, only to realize you were speaking of me.
It was my term of endearment. His and mine alone.

Frolic through the mint fields and adventure into neighboring garages
Wandering through pet foods galore
Pass the summer day into future


Hansel and Gretel ran out of bread and you and I ran out of youth. A giant earthquake split the ground and we were supremely divided.
I never warned him.
I’m ashamed to say I didn’t even see it coming. (silly sister, mama would have known)


We rode the city bus, tightly side by side
The homeless man made threats and we were frightened
Once we waited, the crazy woman sang
(doo-wop, doo-wop, doo-wop, such an ugly boy)
Meek and mild, your eyes grew and welled. Horrified, I sat still.


I was the sister/mother. You were the puppy boy all grown up.
Lay down sister. That mama has to go.
Small bird boy flies the coup. He had the “get out of jail free” card. I lost mine somewhere down the road.


We held hands, hand in hand.
One day, he let go.

Monday, October 9, 2006

Bad Banana-nana

What is that lustfulness for spoiled produce?
Peel back that stiff outer layer, thick and porous skin. It really doesn’t do a bit of good. Does it?

Cheap dates can’t last long and you turn sour too quickly. (That banana is a temperamental bitch, isn’t she?)

Impatience leaves a bitter coating and unflattering flavor. Wait too long and overly perfumed gushy/mushy pulp is what you get to sink your teeth into. And who wants that? Only dirty girls settle for the day old, dollar short.

Who are you, blemished banana? Are you that naughty slut that turns fruit salad tanned and unattractive? Inedible, even. I know you were dying to be the strawberry, but we all can’t be that lucky. Poor girl, Banana-nana. It’s really not your fault, just a burden to bear.

I made the commitment and put out the time for you to come. Around. You’re quite taunting when green and unavailable. Yellow rouge began to flush your cheek and you teased. I must admit, I was a little excited.

Dedication somehow turned to resentful obligation and it just wasn’t fun anymore.
(Can you blame me?)

That temptress lost her touch and my attention and/or affection. I’m not really certain of the distinction.

Oh Banana-nana. You made yourself too approachable. Too attainable.
If she only had a season.


Those things go bump in the night and I wanna play too.
I’ll be the ghost and make a special appearance for one night only.

Oh nostalgia
You are so sweet
Syrupy and thick

I am the ghost and you are my Dracula.
Am I the eerie one in this picture we're painting?

Jesus, baby
Be my jack-o-lantern and light the way.
Oh Holy Father of candy corn and bubble gum, please spare the innocent.
Baby gummi bears were only fooling around and meant no harm. (or did they?)


I am the ghost.

Jesus and Dracula graciously accepted the invitation to my tea party. I will be serving a selection of chamomile, jasmine and earl grey teas. Each invited guest will have a personalized place setting and porcelain tea cup and saucer with a delicate silver spoon.

Uninvited guests will have a Styrofoam cup.
(Frankenstein never fucking RSVP’s)


I was that ghost
Who went bump in the night

Dracula held my cold hand
He danced and frightened small children
Screaming, lurching

Flailing arms and twisting torsos
Swirling with windy chimes

We flew home part of the way, the rest we walked hand in hand.