I sat alone in the big empty house and stared out the window for what seemed like hours. With a sigh, I placed the post-it note on the computer monitor. “Read me,” called the scrawled handwriting in blue Sharpie. I stared at the screen, focused on the bright yellow flap of paper that represented my last hope to salvage my marriage. In the dark, I sat and waited, resigned to whatever fate awaited me.
For weeks, the spaces between us had grown cold with distance. We slept in the same bed, backs toward one another. Our conversation had limited itself to things like, “dinner’s ready.” I became alarmed when a week passed, and she was still leaving the living room whenever I came to rest on the couch beside her. She would get up and go into the office. Shortly afterward, I would hear the familiar sound of her fingers confiding to that faceless hunk of plastic and silicon all those intimacies she was withholding from me.
The next evening, I got home from work early. I knew that she kept a journal. In any other situation, it would never have occurred to me to violate her trust by reading the pages between. But this was different. I could feel our five year marriage crumbling around me, and I had to do something. She wasn’t speaking to me. With trepidation, I opening the leather-bound cover of the journal I had given her on Valentine’s Day the year that we met. On the first page I had inscribed a message to her.
“To Jen,” it read, “may you record the fulfillment of your dreams within these pages. In these hallowed halls, may you commit to paper your deepest secrets and wildest dreams. May you always find solace in the love that binds us. And in my arms, may you find a soft place to land.” A sense of failure consumed me, and I hesitated to turn the pages and read what lie ahead. Doing so meant that there would be no going back. My shortcomings as a husband would be revealed there on the page. My hand trembled, and my breath quickened as tremors of fear crept into my gut. Nevertheless, I continued. I had to know where her heart was.
As I flipped the pages, records of happier times flashed before me. “Harper’s Ferry,” read the heading on one entry. Not long after Valentine’s Day, we had taken a road trip to Harper’s Ferry. She couldn’t find a baby-sitter for the day, so we took her five year old daughter with us. “It was cold,” I spoke allowed. We walked, the three of us, hand in hand as the wind whipped around in our faces. We stopped in a small café to catch our warmth, and ordered some French fries. That was a good day.
Nervously, I flipped to end of her journal. I had to know what was going through her mind. She wouldn’t talk to me. Only the book of leatherbound paper, and the hunk of silicon and circuits in the office knew her secrets, and I was determined to know them too. Soon, I found the words that would change the direction of my life forever. “I just don’t know,” they read. “Everytime we touch, make love, I hate myself a little more,” the words rocketed through my brain. “I don’t want a divorce, but I don’t see an alternative.”
I sat on the bed, devastated. What had I done that had driven her to this extreme? I pickup up the journal and flipped backwards, seeking answers. I discovered, to my surprise, that she had thought of leaving me in 2001. When 9/11 happened, however, she decided that we would make it work. 2001? We had only married in 1999? Had we been drifting apart for that long? Was I just too oblivious to notice? I recalled that our life was filled with turmoil during those days. We had filed for bankruptcy in 2000, and just after 9/11 we had to move in with a friend because Jen had quit her job. These were stresses to be sure, but nothing I thought we couldn’t handle.
“Marriages end because someone cheats,” I thought to myself. “ I’ve never so much as looked at another woman.” Within the pages of her journal, I found entries that indicated she suspected that I might be capable of doing so. I was crushed. “How could we be so close and still not see each other,” I questioned. Tears filled my eyes as I felt the anguish of having let such distance come between us that we couldn’t even see each other for who we were anymore. There were no records indicating that she had cheated either. I know. I checked that too.
We needed to talk. But how could I force a conversation with her, without letting on that I had read her journal. I wanted to talk, not fight. After all, I had an idea that the conversation was not going to be pleasant at any rate. I recalled how she had the habit of leaving the room to chat on the internet with her friends whenever I entered the room. I saw my chance.
I waited until Wednesday evening. She liked to attend the Wednesday service at the local community church. While she was at the service, I sat down at wrote her a short letter that let her know I had noticed the distance between us growing. “All I want to know is if there is chance for us to fix this, or if we’re better off figuring out how to untangle our lives,” I wrote. I made sure not to hit too close to the mark on any of the things that I had read in her journal. Than, I placed the post-it note on the computer screen and waited for my answer.
In the darkness, I waited, listening to the clock tick, tick, tick from it’s perch on the mantle. Then, the shadows on the floor scattered, torn and ripped asunder, as headlights flooded up the driveway. “Moment of truth,” I muttered.
I will never forget the absolute stillness in the air as she read my note. I sat in the other room, transfixed in the moment as I awaited for some sign that my words had reached her. I saw the answer in the tears the rolled down her cheeks. As she sat next to me on the couch, I expected a conversation. What I got was a note. “I want to work things out,” it read as my heart heaved a sigh, “ but I can’t do this anymore.” My heart evaporated in my chest. The air escaped my lungs against my will. I struggled to keep it together. “Isn’t there something….we could…like..uh..counseling, maybe,” I stammered. “I just don’t love you anymore,” was the reply, carved in ice.
“Okay,” I said. We held each other, shamelessly, for the first time in months. Silently, we agreed that it was over. We had fought the fight and lost. As the fingers of night enveloped us, we made our way upstairs. We slept in the same bed, backs toward one another. Our conversation was limited to things like, “good night” and “I’m sorry.”
Friday, August 20, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Love Lies Bleeding
Cimmerian mists
ooze a damson nocturne,
rubiginous buds bloom un-noticed-
As two lovers linger in amorous collusion;
A streetlamp proliferates
its wine-colored lumination
across the avenue,
and the neon fixture
of a neighboring storefront
casts a carnelian glow
upon the scene;
While frolicsome shadows dance about
in nigrescent celebration,
a night owl hoots in harmony
with the whispering intonation
of the rushing wind-
The evening air is sinfully alive
with the jingle-jangle jive
of a jazz piano
and the street is filled
with crowded silence
as love lies bleeding....
ooze a damson nocturne,
rubiginous buds bloom un-noticed-
As two lovers linger in amorous collusion;
A streetlamp proliferates
its wine-colored lumination
across the avenue,
and the neon fixture
of a neighboring storefront
casts a carnelian glow
upon the scene;
While frolicsome shadows dance about
in nigrescent celebration,
a night owl hoots in harmony
with the whispering intonation
of the rushing wind-
The evening air is sinfully alive
with the jingle-jangle jive
of a jazz piano
and the street is filled
with crowded silence
as love lies bleeding....
The Leaf
I watched a leaf today,
one whose emerald virtue
had long since faded,
and left in its stead
a bronzed fellow,
fringed with gold
and freckled with vermilion-
I watched this leaf
intently
as it drifted slowly downward,
borne on Autumn’s gentle wind
And as I watched this solitary leaf,
while it was tossed and tussled about,
carried ever so gently through the air
until it perched precariously
on the edge of tomorrow,
I saw that it was very much alone.
and in my soul,
I’m sure I heard a solemn rhapsody,
a melancholy reverie...
loneliness is a dark hole,
and scarce are those
who e’er escape.
one whose emerald virtue
had long since faded,
and left in its stead
a bronzed fellow,
fringed with gold
and freckled with vermilion-
I watched this leaf
intently
as it drifted slowly downward,
borne on Autumn’s gentle wind
And as I watched this solitary leaf,
while it was tossed and tussled about,
carried ever so gently through the air
until it perched precariously
on the edge of tomorrow,
I saw that it was very much alone.
and in my soul,
I’m sure I heard a solemn rhapsody,
a melancholy reverie...
loneliness is a dark hole,
and scarce are those
who e’er escape.
Shovels Are For Digging (DRAFT)
The wind whistled its way through the corn fields, bending a stalk this way or that, to or fro, as it saw fit. The air was lonely, stagnant and still, having no other place to be save everywhere and nowhere all in the same instant. The sun hovered lazily above, lolling about in an azure sky, scorching the earth below out of sheer boredom. Somewhere, a radio played Johnny Cash, Folsom Prison Blues drifting faintly upwards, then fading, consumed by an ever expansive stillness. A two-laned highway meandered its way through the country-side, splitting the corn field in half, then wandering off to meet the horizon. The quiet of the moment was shattered briefly by the obnoxious roar of a passing dump truck. A single pine watched curiously as the truck vanished in the distance, along with its barrage of sound, once again restoring the setting to its original forlorn state.
In a clearing, free of corn stalks and tall grasses, resided a farmhouse, a melancholy little dwelling boasting a sagging front porch, and a rusting tin roof. From the road, one could see a man working in the yard. A slight breeze ruffled his chestnut hair, cooling his sweat-soaked skin, as he maneuvered his dull, green tractor through the yard in neat little rows, leaving a clean-shaven lawn in its wake. He raised his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow, too slowly, however, to prevent it from dripping down his cheek, teasing his lips with saline kisses.
The enticing aroma of fried chicken, butter-laden potatoes, and vinegar-drenched collards wafted through the open kitchen window of the farmhouse. Emma stood in the kitchen, peering out the window at John, toiling in the hot sun. She grabbed a dishcloth from the sink basin, and soaked it under a stream of cool tap water. Ringing it out, she folded it three times, lengthwise, and placed the dishcloth on her forehead to absorb her own sweat. Glancing over at the stove, she laid the dishcloth down, proceeding to remove the, now, cooked chicken breasts from their greasy bath. She turned the burners off for the potatoes and the collards as well, placing lids on the pots where they rested.
" Sammy! Go tell your father supper's ready, " Emma called to her four-year old son, as she gathered dishes from the china cabinet, preparing to set the table.
Sam ran down the stairs, his miniature construction boots making thunderously loud thumps with each mini step.
" Oh boy!," Sammy cried as he ran through the kitchen, past Emma, and out the screen door, " Fried chicken!"
Emma watched from the window as Sammy scurried excitedly across the yard, his feet disappearing at each step into the green-brown grass. She stood, once again applying the moistened dishcloth to her forehead, observing John as he stopped the tractor, turning his attention towards Sam. After a few moments, John reached down and grabbed Sammy, lifting him onto his lap. When John, with Sammy on board, steered the tractor toward the house, Emma focused herself on setting the table.
She adorned the table with three hand-made placemats, blue and white and crafted with the image of faceless Amish characters embroidered in the middle. She had made them herself, as she did many household things. They were handsomely made, and they matched the wallpaper in the kitchen, white and covered with little blue flowers. Emma smiled, as she placed paper napkins on each of the placemats, admiring her handiwork while she set the table with silverware.
The screen door squealed slightly as John entered carrying Sam in his arms, then rapped in annoyance as it swung closed.
" Smells like food!, " John said boisterously, setting Sammy down on the floor, " Better be enough for and army. Me and little man, here, are hungry. Ain't that right,
boy? "
" Hungry for chicken!, " Sam laughed, running over to watch as Emma moved the chicken and the covered pots from the stove to the center of the kitchen table.
" Well, there's plenty here! Wash up before you sit down, Sam, " Emma stated in a motherly fashion, escorting Sammy gently from the kitchen, upstairs to the bathroom.
John walked over to the kitchen sink, turning on the water as he grabbed a bottle of bright green dish detergent from the counter. He washed his hands vigorously. Then he grabbed the dishcloth, the same one Emma had been using, and ran it under the lukewarm water. He wiped the sweat off his brow and neck, dropping the rag in the sink when he was done. Just as he finished, Emma and Sam re-entered the kitchen.
" All clean?, " John said, a playful grin emerging on his lips as he reached out and grabbed Emma by the hips. He pulled her close until he felt her breasts against his muscular chest. They stood still for a moment, mere seconds in reality, two souls intertwined and bound together by love. Then, John gave her a small kiss on the lips.
" I love you, " John said, turning to look at the table, " let's eat!"
" Goody!" cried Sam, rushing hurriedly to grab his spot at the dinner table.
" Don't you dare touch any of that food until we say grace, young man!," Emma warned Sam as she and John joined him at the table.
Once the entire family was seated around the table, Emma bowed her head. John bowed his head as well.
" Father," Emma began, before she was soundly interrupted.
" Let me say it! You promised you'd let me say it!," Sam protested, his eyes all aglow with eagerness.
" Okay, Sam, go ahead," John said, smiling as he glanced over at Emma, a quaint little smirk shone upon her face.
" God is great. God is good. Let us thank him for our food! Amen! Can we eat now?," Sam quickly blessed the meal.
" Now we can eat, " said Emma, as she began to heap a modest pile of mashed potatoes on Sam's plate," How many chicken legs do you want?"
" Three! I want three!," Sam answered.
" How about two instead. You'll never eat three!," Emma insisted.
" I want three. Why can't I have three?," Sam questioned.
" All right, you can have three, but you'd better eat 'em!," Emma said sternly.
The pot of collard greens was passed around the table, as each plate received its due portion. A pleasant breeze drifted in faintly through the open window, carrying with it the sweet scent of fresh honey-suckle. The breeze was not enough, however, to eliminate the need for the small oscillating fan, perched upon the counter, sending cool relief throughout the kitchen.
" Sam wants you to make him a sandbox so he has a place to play with his toys," Emma began, breaking a brief silence to begin conversation anew.
" Yeah, I guess he could use a place to play with his toys. Least then I wouldn't have to worry about them being scattered across the whole damn yard!," John agreed, a slight sarcasm in his voice.
" Will you build it, Dad? Will you build me a sandbox?," Sam gasped excitedly, his mouth still full of mashed potatoes.
" Don't talk with your mouth full, Sam. You know better than that!," Emma scolded the way mothers do.
" Yeah!," John picked up where Sam had left off," I guess I could make one tomorrow."
" Promise!?," Sam demanded.
" Okay, I promise we’ll make your sandbox tomorrow. How's that!," John answered, grinning slightly as he looked at Sam.
" All right!," Sam exclaimed, his mouth still full of potatoes.
" What did I tell you about talking with your mouth full?," Emma scolded once more.
Dinner was over quickly, as the plates which were set upon the table were filled with loads of food, and emptied of their cargo just as fast. After dinner, Sam darted out the door, eager to while away the last few remaining hours of sunlight playing in the yard. Emma arose from the table where John was still seated, and began to gather the dishes from the table, loading them into the sink. Once all the dishes were in the sink, she turned on the water, and poured some detergent into the sink as well.
" That was a good meal, Hon," John said, as Emma. with her back to him, was preparing to wash the dishes.
" Thank you. I figured I'd fry chicken since we hadn't had it in a while," Emma answered, the fan blowing strands of her dark, shoulder-length hair across her face.
“ Tractor’s running low on fuel. Have to run into town and fill up the gas can,” John uttered with a sigh, “and maybe pick up some sand for Bobby’s sandbox.”
“ You got everything else you need already?” replied Emma, surprised.
“Out in the garage..nails, wood…what else is there?, John posed with a grin.
In a clearing, free of corn stalks and tall grasses, resided a farmhouse, a melancholy little dwelling boasting a sagging front porch, and a rusting tin roof. From the road, one could see a man working in the yard. A slight breeze ruffled his chestnut hair, cooling his sweat-soaked skin, as he maneuvered his dull, green tractor through the yard in neat little rows, leaving a clean-shaven lawn in its wake. He raised his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow, too slowly, however, to prevent it from dripping down his cheek, teasing his lips with saline kisses.
The enticing aroma of fried chicken, butter-laden potatoes, and vinegar-drenched collards wafted through the open kitchen window of the farmhouse. Emma stood in the kitchen, peering out the window at John, toiling in the hot sun. She grabbed a dishcloth from the sink basin, and soaked it under a stream of cool tap water. Ringing it out, she folded it three times, lengthwise, and placed the dishcloth on her forehead to absorb her own sweat. Glancing over at the stove, she laid the dishcloth down, proceeding to remove the, now, cooked chicken breasts from their greasy bath. She turned the burners off for the potatoes and the collards as well, placing lids on the pots where they rested.
" Sammy! Go tell your father supper's ready, " Emma called to her four-year old son, as she gathered dishes from the china cabinet, preparing to set the table.
Sam ran down the stairs, his miniature construction boots making thunderously loud thumps with each mini step.
" Oh boy!," Sammy cried as he ran through the kitchen, past Emma, and out the screen door, " Fried chicken!"
Emma watched from the window as Sammy scurried excitedly across the yard, his feet disappearing at each step into the green-brown grass. She stood, once again applying the moistened dishcloth to her forehead, observing John as he stopped the tractor, turning his attention towards Sam. After a few moments, John reached down and grabbed Sammy, lifting him onto his lap. When John, with Sammy on board, steered the tractor toward the house, Emma focused herself on setting the table.
She adorned the table with three hand-made placemats, blue and white and crafted with the image of faceless Amish characters embroidered in the middle. She had made them herself, as she did many household things. They were handsomely made, and they matched the wallpaper in the kitchen, white and covered with little blue flowers. Emma smiled, as she placed paper napkins on each of the placemats, admiring her handiwork while she set the table with silverware.
The screen door squealed slightly as John entered carrying Sam in his arms, then rapped in annoyance as it swung closed.
" Smells like food!, " John said boisterously, setting Sammy down on the floor, " Better be enough for and army. Me and little man, here, are hungry. Ain't that right,
boy? "
" Hungry for chicken!, " Sam laughed, running over to watch as Emma moved the chicken and the covered pots from the stove to the center of the kitchen table.
" Well, there's plenty here! Wash up before you sit down, Sam, " Emma stated in a motherly fashion, escorting Sammy gently from the kitchen, upstairs to the bathroom.
John walked over to the kitchen sink, turning on the water as he grabbed a bottle of bright green dish detergent from the counter. He washed his hands vigorously. Then he grabbed the dishcloth, the same one Emma had been using, and ran it under the lukewarm water. He wiped the sweat off his brow and neck, dropping the rag in the sink when he was done. Just as he finished, Emma and Sam re-entered the kitchen.
" All clean?, " John said, a playful grin emerging on his lips as he reached out and grabbed Emma by the hips. He pulled her close until he felt her breasts against his muscular chest. They stood still for a moment, mere seconds in reality, two souls intertwined and bound together by love. Then, John gave her a small kiss on the lips.
" I love you, " John said, turning to look at the table, " let's eat!"
" Goody!" cried Sam, rushing hurriedly to grab his spot at the dinner table.
" Don't you dare touch any of that food until we say grace, young man!," Emma warned Sam as she and John joined him at the table.
Once the entire family was seated around the table, Emma bowed her head. John bowed his head as well.
" Father," Emma began, before she was soundly interrupted.
" Let me say it! You promised you'd let me say it!," Sam protested, his eyes all aglow with eagerness.
" Okay, Sam, go ahead," John said, smiling as he glanced over at Emma, a quaint little smirk shone upon her face.
" God is great. God is good. Let us thank him for our food! Amen! Can we eat now?," Sam quickly blessed the meal.
" Now we can eat, " said Emma, as she began to heap a modest pile of mashed potatoes on Sam's plate," How many chicken legs do you want?"
" Three! I want three!," Sam answered.
" How about two instead. You'll never eat three!," Emma insisted.
" I want three. Why can't I have three?," Sam questioned.
" All right, you can have three, but you'd better eat 'em!," Emma said sternly.
The pot of collard greens was passed around the table, as each plate received its due portion. A pleasant breeze drifted in faintly through the open window, carrying with it the sweet scent of fresh honey-suckle. The breeze was not enough, however, to eliminate the need for the small oscillating fan, perched upon the counter, sending cool relief throughout the kitchen.
" Sam wants you to make him a sandbox so he has a place to play with his toys," Emma began, breaking a brief silence to begin conversation anew.
" Yeah, I guess he could use a place to play with his toys. Least then I wouldn't have to worry about them being scattered across the whole damn yard!," John agreed, a slight sarcasm in his voice.
" Will you build it, Dad? Will you build me a sandbox?," Sam gasped excitedly, his mouth still full of mashed potatoes.
" Don't talk with your mouth full, Sam. You know better than that!," Emma scolded the way mothers do.
" Yeah!," John picked up where Sam had left off," I guess I could make one tomorrow."
" Promise!?," Sam demanded.
" Okay, I promise we’ll make your sandbox tomorrow. How's that!," John answered, grinning slightly as he looked at Sam.
" All right!," Sam exclaimed, his mouth still full of potatoes.
" What did I tell you about talking with your mouth full?," Emma scolded once more.
Dinner was over quickly, as the plates which were set upon the table were filled with loads of food, and emptied of their cargo just as fast. After dinner, Sam darted out the door, eager to while away the last few remaining hours of sunlight playing in the yard. Emma arose from the table where John was still seated, and began to gather the dishes from the table, loading them into the sink. Once all the dishes were in the sink, she turned on the water, and poured some detergent into the sink as well.
" That was a good meal, Hon," John said, as Emma. with her back to him, was preparing to wash the dishes.
" Thank you. I figured I'd fry chicken since we hadn't had it in a while," Emma answered, the fan blowing strands of her dark, shoulder-length hair across her face.
“ Tractor’s running low on fuel. Have to run into town and fill up the gas can,” John uttered with a sigh, “and maybe pick up some sand for Bobby’s sandbox.”
“ You got everything else you need already?” replied Emma, surprised.
“Out in the garage..nails, wood…what else is there?, John posed with a grin.
I Was There
I was a fly once
once I could fly
not very well, of course,
never could get used
to all those eyes
but i was there
zoomin’ around
bumping into apples and bananas and dogs
once, a box of cereal fell on me-
no, i was not a successful fly
but i was there
until they squashed me
newspaper, i think
Sunday edition
in a way, it sorta pisses me off
a lifetime of dodging windshields
and buglights
down the drain
all because of some stupid sports section
then, again, i can’t complain
i am much better suited to being human
correction--i’m much better suited to being Me
but i was a fly once
yup, i was there.
once I could fly
not very well, of course,
never could get used
to all those eyes
but i was there
zoomin’ around
bumping into apples and bananas and dogs
once, a box of cereal fell on me-
no, i was not a successful fly
but i was there
until they squashed me
newspaper, i think
Sunday edition
in a way, it sorta pisses me off
a lifetime of dodging windshields
and buglights
down the drain
all because of some stupid sports section
then, again, i can’t complain
i am much better suited to being human
correction--i’m much better suited to being Me
but i was a fly once
yup, i was there.
The Hall of Hauhet
I stood
in the hall of Hauhet,
with its obsidian
spires scraping sky,
and watched
a crescent satellite
perform its exquisite minuet;
And in that pensive moment,
as I stood,
lost in the eurythmics of it all,
I saw myself,
the headliner
of a burlesque dramalogue,
each tear carefully choreographed,
my eyes adusk
in crepuscular glee;
And somewhere in the indistinctness,
amongst the backdrop
of the hush-hush murk,
I felt your passionate sigh,
warm against my skin,
and your knowing caress
upon my shoulder.
In florid fashion
we danced about,
moving-together, together-moving,
to the euphonious rhyme
of a symphonic poem,
moving-together, together-moving
into the tenuous nether,
of primordial penumbra.
in the hall of Hauhet,
with its obsidian
spires scraping sky,
and watched
a crescent satellite
perform its exquisite minuet;
And in that pensive moment,
as I stood,
lost in the eurythmics of it all,
I saw myself,
the headliner
of a burlesque dramalogue,
each tear carefully choreographed,
my eyes adusk
in crepuscular glee;
And somewhere in the indistinctness,
amongst the backdrop
of the hush-hush murk,
I felt your passionate sigh,
warm against my skin,
and your knowing caress
upon my shoulder.
In florid fashion
we danced about,
moving-together, together-moving,
to the euphonious rhyme
of a symphonic poem,
moving-together, together-moving
into the tenuous nether,
of primordial penumbra.
A Girl As Lonely
It was a rather chilly autumn day:amber leaves from the half bare trees lay scattered across the road, gathering in the ditches and such, not the best weather for house-hunting. Joshua sighed as he leaned his head against the glass, staring through his own reflection at the sullen landscape, the glum, overcast sky seeming to mimic his brooding demeanor. He sighed again as they drove past a small service station followed by a quaint veterinary hospital, trying to ignore the conversation between his parents and the real estate agent. The road ahead revealed nothing but endless acres of harvest-ready corn and barren fallow fields. A sign appeared, informing them they were entering Centreville. Joshua despised everything he saw around him. He hated the wheat fields, the rows of corn, and the miles of outstretched country highway. Most of all, though, he hated the wide openness of it all.
“Well, what do you think of this ride through the country, huh?” his mom asked, trying to tease a smile out of him.
“Oh yeah, it’s great. Love it!” Joshua answered unconvincingly, cracking a crooked mockery of a smile.
“I swear, if you aren’t about the most ill person I’ve ever met,” she continued, turning to continue her conversation with the agent.
“Why everyone thinks I should be so thrilled to be moving out to middle of nowhere I will never know,” Joshua thought to himself.
After all, moving out to the quiet serenity of the country, away from the hustle and bustle of suburban life, was his parents idea, not his. In fact the whole idea of moving, the mere thought of up-rooting oneself, and settling someplace so far removed from anything familiar, seemed more, to Joshua, like a nightmare than a dream. And it was a nightmare he stubbornly refused to accept.
Suddenly, Joshua was jerked out of his private realm of introspection, and yanked back into reality by the intrusive crunching sound of loose gravel, as they pulled into an unpaved driveway. He looked up to see an approaching tan house with greyish-blue shudders.
“ This is it?,” he thought, “ They drug me way out into the middle of nowhere for this?”
“ This is it!,” his mom said almost too cheerfully, confirming his worst fears, “What do you think?”
“ I think it’s nice,” his dad answered, admiring the attached garage as though he were picturing how all of his junk would pile into it, “ How much land did you say this is again?”
“ It’s about two and a half acres,” the agent responded with a sugar-coated smile that made Joshua want to puke, “ Shall we have a look inside?”
“ Yeah, let’s look inside, “ Joshua’s mom answered, the excitement of finally getting a place out in the country written all over her face.
As the agent opened the front door, they all followed her in, glancing about at the bare walls as they entered. The agent moved forward, Joshua’s parents close behind, as she began her routine to try and sell the house. Joshua hung back from the group, his hands trenched deep into his pockets. While the others examined the kitchen sink, and the cabinets, the included stove and dishwasher, and where the fridge would go, Joshua examined the way light entered in through the windows. He observed how it sprawled across the floor in strange geometric patterns, like an eerie Picasso, and how it clung to the walls. He liked how the sun just seemed to walk into the living room, reflecting light off of each of the four walls, and how it lingered in the den, carrying on meaningful conversation with the shadows while it waited to be offered a cup of tea.
The house had two bathrooms, one in the master bedroom and one at the end of the hallway. Joshua smiled an invisible smile at the prospect of having his own bathroom. He broke away from the group to explore a room, one of three bedrooms, that he was certain would become his. He explored the closet, small but adequate, then turned admire the great increase in space the room afforded, picturing just how everything would fit into this new surrounding. Looking out the window, he glanced across the road that passed in front of the property, fixing his gaze upon the sluggardly kept field of corn just over the way. Joshua moved closer to the window, close enough to see his own reflection in the shiny new panes of glass, continuing to peer out into the great wide open.
A girl was walking along the road in front of the house, her long dark hair tossed gently about by the cool autumn wind as she walked, hunching her shoulders in a vain effort to shield herself from the cold. She had a strange aura about her. The leaves on the ground seemed to stir in front of her, settling only after she had passed. As she pressed onward, passing directly in front of the house, she paused momentarily to straighten her jacket. She turned to meet Joshua’s gaze, revealing her dark lips and haunting eyes set upon the pale skin of her face. Joshua was captured by her solemn stare, and moved by its loneliness. The two stood, unaware of time or space, trapped in a state of longing, held prisoner by the need to touch, and saddened by their collective inability to do so.
“ Joshua!,” a voice called from another room, half audible and half ignored, drowned out by the bizarre chemistry of the moment.
“ Here he is!,” his dad announced from the hallway, as the others soon entered the room.
“So what do you think?,” his mother asked.
“About what?,” Joshua answered, just turning his attention away from the window.
“About the house, silly! Do you like it? she continued.
“Yeah, I like it!” Joshua replied, turning his attention back to the window.
Strangely, though, the girl was nowhere to be seen. It was almost as though she had vanished into thin air. A cold chill inched its way up Joshua’s back, raising the hairs on his neck.
“I couldn’t have imagined all that,” he told himself, “Where could she have gotten to that fast. She was right there just two seconds ago!”
“Hey, Joshua,” his dad boomed from down the hall, “Hurry up or we’re leaving you behind!”
“Coming,” Joshua trailed off, still haunted by thoughts of the strange girl.
It rained the next day. Actually, it poured. But the weather matched Joshua’s mood perfectly. As his psychology professor droned on, endlessly it seemed, about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, humanist psychology, and self-actualization, Joshua stared, watching the rain coming down from the heavens. From where he was seated, he could watch others students as they darted in and out of the rain, coming to and from their classes. He found it rather amusing the way some students hopelessly avoided the rain, trying with certain failure to dance between the rain-drops.
“Rain-drops keep falling on my head..dadada....,” he thought, the song danced melodically with in his head as a wicked grin crawled across his lips.
His attention was soon drawn back into the classroom as he noticed everyone begin to turn their attention his way.
“Perhaps Joshua would care to explain to us what it means to be self-actualized,” the professor offered to the class.
“Uh...well, uhm, self-actualization is, like, when an individual achieves their, you know, unique potential or whatever,” Joshua muttered, befuddled by this sudden urge to keep his attention.
“Okay. But before one can be self-actualized, according to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, what two categories must be met? Can anyone tell me?,” the professor posed an open ended question.
Joshua heaved a huge sigh of relief and leaned back in his chair. The professor was just doing his usual lecture recap questions. For a moment, he was afraid that he had been humming that song out loud. After all, it had happened before.
He thought about the strange girl he had seen at the Centreville house.
“Well, what do you think of this ride through the country, huh?” his mom asked, trying to tease a smile out of him.
“Oh yeah, it’s great. Love it!” Joshua answered unconvincingly, cracking a crooked mockery of a smile.
“I swear, if you aren’t about the most ill person I’ve ever met,” she continued, turning to continue her conversation with the agent.
“Why everyone thinks I should be so thrilled to be moving out to middle of nowhere I will never know,” Joshua thought to himself.
After all, moving out to the quiet serenity of the country, away from the hustle and bustle of suburban life, was his parents idea, not his. In fact the whole idea of moving, the mere thought of up-rooting oneself, and settling someplace so far removed from anything familiar, seemed more, to Joshua, like a nightmare than a dream. And it was a nightmare he stubbornly refused to accept.
Suddenly, Joshua was jerked out of his private realm of introspection, and yanked back into reality by the intrusive crunching sound of loose gravel, as they pulled into an unpaved driveway. He looked up to see an approaching tan house with greyish-blue shudders.
“ This is it?,” he thought, “ They drug me way out into the middle of nowhere for this?”
“ This is it!,” his mom said almost too cheerfully, confirming his worst fears, “What do you think?”
“ I think it’s nice,” his dad answered, admiring the attached garage as though he were picturing how all of his junk would pile into it, “ How much land did you say this is again?”
“ It’s about two and a half acres,” the agent responded with a sugar-coated smile that made Joshua want to puke, “ Shall we have a look inside?”
“ Yeah, let’s look inside, “ Joshua’s mom answered, the excitement of finally getting a place out in the country written all over her face.
As the agent opened the front door, they all followed her in, glancing about at the bare walls as they entered. The agent moved forward, Joshua’s parents close behind, as she began her routine to try and sell the house. Joshua hung back from the group, his hands trenched deep into his pockets. While the others examined the kitchen sink, and the cabinets, the included stove and dishwasher, and where the fridge would go, Joshua examined the way light entered in through the windows. He observed how it sprawled across the floor in strange geometric patterns, like an eerie Picasso, and how it clung to the walls. He liked how the sun just seemed to walk into the living room, reflecting light off of each of the four walls, and how it lingered in the den, carrying on meaningful conversation with the shadows while it waited to be offered a cup of tea.
The house had two bathrooms, one in the master bedroom and one at the end of the hallway. Joshua smiled an invisible smile at the prospect of having his own bathroom. He broke away from the group to explore a room, one of three bedrooms, that he was certain would become his. He explored the closet, small but adequate, then turned admire the great increase in space the room afforded, picturing just how everything would fit into this new surrounding. Looking out the window, he glanced across the road that passed in front of the property, fixing his gaze upon the sluggardly kept field of corn just over the way. Joshua moved closer to the window, close enough to see his own reflection in the shiny new panes of glass, continuing to peer out into the great wide open.
A girl was walking along the road in front of the house, her long dark hair tossed gently about by the cool autumn wind as she walked, hunching her shoulders in a vain effort to shield herself from the cold. She had a strange aura about her. The leaves on the ground seemed to stir in front of her, settling only after she had passed. As she pressed onward, passing directly in front of the house, she paused momentarily to straighten her jacket. She turned to meet Joshua’s gaze, revealing her dark lips and haunting eyes set upon the pale skin of her face. Joshua was captured by her solemn stare, and moved by its loneliness. The two stood, unaware of time or space, trapped in a state of longing, held prisoner by the need to touch, and saddened by their collective inability to do so.
“ Joshua!,” a voice called from another room, half audible and half ignored, drowned out by the bizarre chemistry of the moment.
“ Here he is!,” his dad announced from the hallway, as the others soon entered the room.
“So what do you think?,” his mother asked.
“About what?,” Joshua answered, just turning his attention away from the window.
“About the house, silly! Do you like it? she continued.
“Yeah, I like it!” Joshua replied, turning his attention back to the window.
Strangely, though, the girl was nowhere to be seen. It was almost as though she had vanished into thin air. A cold chill inched its way up Joshua’s back, raising the hairs on his neck.
“I couldn’t have imagined all that,” he told himself, “Where could she have gotten to that fast. She was right there just two seconds ago!”
“Hey, Joshua,” his dad boomed from down the hall, “Hurry up or we’re leaving you behind!”
“Coming,” Joshua trailed off, still haunted by thoughts of the strange girl.
It rained the next day. Actually, it poured. But the weather matched Joshua’s mood perfectly. As his psychology professor droned on, endlessly it seemed, about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, humanist psychology, and self-actualization, Joshua stared, watching the rain coming down from the heavens. From where he was seated, he could watch others students as they darted in and out of the rain, coming to and from their classes. He found it rather amusing the way some students hopelessly avoided the rain, trying with certain failure to dance between the rain-drops.
“Rain-drops keep falling on my head..dadada....,” he thought, the song danced melodically with in his head as a wicked grin crawled across his lips.
His attention was soon drawn back into the classroom as he noticed everyone begin to turn their attention his way.
“Perhaps Joshua would care to explain to us what it means to be self-actualized,” the professor offered to the class.
“Uh...well, uhm, self-actualization is, like, when an individual achieves their, you know, unique potential or whatever,” Joshua muttered, befuddled by this sudden urge to keep his attention.
“Okay. But before one can be self-actualized, according to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, what two categories must be met? Can anyone tell me?,” the professor posed an open ended question.
Joshua heaved a huge sigh of relief and leaned back in his chair. The professor was just doing his usual lecture recap questions. For a moment, he was afraid that he had been humming that song out loud. After all, it had happened before.
He thought about the strange girl he had seen at the Centreville house.
alone.
i ride home on a tiger
made of cheese;
yellow and striped with black mold
and when i am there
i am not alone.
Anguish and Grief
are my companions
Together
we talk for hours
about stupid stuff
like me and chivalry
and the way an autumn moon
brushes across your face.
Together
we mourn the days of life
that are past,
a menagerie of pain
and misunderstanding -
But as memories flood my mind,
a kaleidoscope of bitterness,
i must not allow
my soul to grow numb
for when i do
my friends are gone
and i am alone.
made of cheese;
yellow and striped with black mold
and when i am there
i am not alone.
Anguish and Grief
are my companions
Together
we talk for hours
about stupid stuff
like me and chivalry
and the way an autumn moon
brushes across your face.
Together
we mourn the days of life
that are past,
a menagerie of pain
and misunderstanding -
But as memories flood my mind,
a kaleidoscope of bitterness,
i must not allow
my soul to grow numb
for when i do
my friends are gone
and i am alone.
Void
I am void
And without form –
An unfinished work…
Wrought of clay & iron
And steel –
With nails for teeth
And hewn with an ax,
I…am not beautiful
Forged in fires
Of malcontent,
I come…
Seething with latent desires,
Hidden passions resonating
Beneath the surface
The beast howls in defiance –
Refusing to heel to its master
Leashed to its will
I go…
And without form –
An unfinished work…
Wrought of clay & iron
And steel –
With nails for teeth
And hewn with an ax,
I…am not beautiful
Forged in fires
Of malcontent,
I come…
Seething with latent desires,
Hidden passions resonating
Beneath the surface
The beast howls in defiance –
Refusing to heel to its master
Leashed to its will
I go…
I Am
I am a poem still unwritten,
a song left unsung;
I am a thousand and two smiles left unsmiled
and a million things left undone;
I am loneliness incognito
and blue is my middle name;
I am a snow drift on a cold winter’s night,
in the spring, I am the rain;
I am all the things you wished you’d said
as the moment passed you by;
I am the happiness that eludes you, still,
and I’m the reason why.
a song left unsung;
I am a thousand and two smiles left unsmiled
and a million things left undone;
I am loneliness incognito
and blue is my middle name;
I am a snow drift on a cold winter’s night,
in the spring, I am the rain;
I am all the things you wished you’d said
as the moment passed you by;
I am the happiness that eludes you, still,
and I’m the reason why.
Youth
Blessed are the children
Who see with sight unseen
Who think of thoughts unthought of
Who dream of dreams undreamed
For in a day or years
Their eyes will cloud their sight
Their thoughts will cloud their thinking
Their dreams will cloud their night.
Who see with sight unseen
Who think of thoughts unthought of
Who dream of dreams undreamed
For in a day or years
Their eyes will cloud their sight
Their thoughts will cloud their thinking
Their dreams will cloud their night.
You
It is early
in the morning,
Sun’s not up yet
and I’m tired
I see your face
as I lay here,
it is dancing in the shadows,
and I’m reminded
of a feeling,
peculiar attraction,
that I feel when I’m around you,
and it makes me want you nearer.
And I wonder if you know,
that I am thinking
that I love you
as I stare into your eyes,
and then your face just disappears.
Next, I’m standing in the shower
and the water’s pouring on me,
it is warm
and I’m reminded
of your face once again,
this time you are smiling
and your arms are reaching for me,
I kiss you on the lips
as I am caught in your embrace,
and we hold hands while we are talking,
and we’re walking to the sunset,
and then you disappear again
because I drop the soap.
in the morning,
Sun’s not up yet
and I’m tired
I see your face
as I lay here,
it is dancing in the shadows,
and I’m reminded
of a feeling,
peculiar attraction,
that I feel when I’m around you,
and it makes me want you nearer.
And I wonder if you know,
that I am thinking
that I love you
as I stare into your eyes,
and then your face just disappears.
Next, I’m standing in the shower
and the water’s pouring on me,
it is warm
and I’m reminded
of your face once again,
this time you are smiling
and your arms are reaching for me,
I kiss you on the lips
as I am caught in your embrace,
and we hold hands while we are talking,
and we’re walking to the sunset,
and then you disappear again
because I drop the soap.
Blue Mist
Blue mists rise up before me, circling me, enveloping me in damson smog, overwhelming me with hellish beguilement, until I am, all at once, wholly consumed by its violescence. Suddenly, the ground below me vanishes, and I find myself falling impetuously through the lilac abyss. And while I am falling, no doubt to my death, I am thinking not of repentance, not of the wrongs I’ve done, or the charities omitted. No, there is but one thought that keeps running its course over and over in my head. I am thinking of you, and all the reasons why I love you, and hating myself for never having the balls to tell you. And I think how sad it is to have to die alone, having never really been loved. And then I wake up, wiping the sweat of my brow, and feeling very much alone.
Where's My Story
As I sit down to write, glancing around the room at all the things I've collected so meticulously over the years, my eyes roaming from a tower of compact discs to a shelf of books, crawling across the sparsely decorated walls and eventually finding their way back to a neglected computer screen, I wonder aloud to myself, " What is my story? " Flipping through my yearbooks, I am convinced that it is one of betrayed emotion, complete with a wounded, bleeding heart; in those photographs, I can almost see the walls I'd built around myself. But that's not it, that's not my story. I see a literary magazine, its frayed edges and worn cover showing its age, and I'm almost convinced that my story rests somewhere within one of those angst-ridden poems. But it isn't there either. A bible beckons from the corner of the room, and for the briefest of instances, I think my story might be one of innocence lost and forgiveness found. A nice cliché, but it isn't me.
" So where is my story, " I whisper gently to the patiently waiting computer screen.
" I don't know, " the screen whispers back, staring blankly at me as a lonely cast of letters fill the screen, " you tell me! "
And as I am there, trying to find the story I've lived to tell, all I find is that I haven't the faintest idea where to start.
" So where is my story, " I whisper gently to the patiently waiting computer screen.
" I don't know, " the screen whispers back, staring blankly at me as a lonely cast of letters fill the screen, " you tell me! "
And as I am there, trying to find the story I've lived to tell, all I find is that I haven't the faintest idea where to start.
They, Them, Those & Whom
They danced again last night.
They,Them, Those and Whom gathered in a sacred room,
Or at least that’s what They said.
They, whose soul is black as night;
Them, whose eyes are twice as bright
As those of Those and Whom;
which gathered in a sacred room,
Or at least that’s what They said.
Those and Whom are you, my dear;
That They and Them alone must fear.
They danced again last night.
Or so They said.
They,Them, Those and Whom gathered in a sacred room,
Or at least that’s what They said.
They, whose soul is black as night;
Them, whose eyes are twice as bright
As those of Those and Whom;
which gathered in a sacred room,
Or at least that’s what They said.
Those and Whom are you, my dear;
That They and Them alone must fear.
They danced again last night.
Or so They said.
The Story of Me
My lot in life had pretty much been established by the time I had finished junior high. Between romantic rejection, verbal abuse and assorted other embarrassments, there remained little time for any reasonable form of social life. As a consequence, I became a career dweeb. I was quite good at it, too, being a dweeb, I mean, and my disreputation, as you might say, grew accordingly. I was the King Lear of dweebs, and proud of it. but even stranger, be it possible, is the fact that it worked for me, and I enjoyed it, being a dweeb and all. I guess I thought that being a nobody was better than being no one at all. At least that’s what I thought I thought.
All that changed, however, the day she walked into my life, or my classroom, at least. It was the classic tale of the hopeless romantic, with an emphasis on hopeless.
The more I watched her, the more I wanted to love her, the more I wanted her to love me. I determined that afternoon that I would confess my feelings for her, no matter what the cost.
I went to her following class the next day, and heard myself utter some unintelligible phrase that sounded like, “ Yergly nu bibbly schnict.” Realizing from the schreeching laugh that followed I had once again made a fool of myself, I retreated to the safety of a nearby locker.
I wallowed in self-pity for many moons thereafter, cursing the stars each night as they appeared. I cursed the sun that dared to bring about another day for me to endure.
It was then, as I reached rock bottom, that I discovered I was not alone. There were other dweebs out there, just like me. And like me, they all carried around their own bags of scorn. At that precise moment I began to stop feeling sorry for myself, and determined to move on. I found that in my deepest sorrow, when I don’t have a leg to stand on, I can lean on my fellow dweebs. But, even more so, I think, is that I found that “dweeb” could have a whole new meaning and that I could call these outcasts, friends.
All that changed, however, the day she walked into my life, or my classroom, at least. It was the classic tale of the hopeless romantic, with an emphasis on hopeless.
The more I watched her, the more I wanted to love her, the more I wanted her to love me. I determined that afternoon that I would confess my feelings for her, no matter what the cost.
I went to her following class the next day, and heard myself utter some unintelligible phrase that sounded like, “ Yergly nu bibbly schnict.” Realizing from the schreeching laugh that followed I had once again made a fool of myself, I retreated to the safety of a nearby locker.
I wallowed in self-pity for many moons thereafter, cursing the stars each night as they appeared. I cursed the sun that dared to bring about another day for me to endure.
It was then, as I reached rock bottom, that I discovered I was not alone. There were other dweebs out there, just like me. And like me, they all carried around their own bags of scorn. At that precise moment I began to stop feeling sorry for myself, and determined to move on. I found that in my deepest sorrow, when I don’t have a leg to stand on, I can lean on my fellow dweebs. But, even more so, I think, is that I found that “dweeb” could have a whole new meaning and that I could call these outcasts, friends.
Sweet Nothings
The quiet stillness
runs her silken fingers
through my hair,
caressing my scalp
with her sensuous massage
All the while she whispers,
“Sweet Nothings! sweet nothings!”
into my ear.
I am moved
almost to tears
by the sincerity of her grace
and the eloquance of her touch
“Sweet Nothings! sweet nothings!,”
she echos once more
as she presses my eyelids
gently closed.
“Sweet Nothings! sweet nothings!,”
I hear again
as I drift off to sleep
sigh
“Sweet Nothings!”
runs her silken fingers
through my hair,
caressing my scalp
with her sensuous massage
All the while she whispers,
“Sweet Nothings! sweet nothings!”
into my ear.
I am moved
almost to tears
by the sincerity of her grace
and the eloquance of her touch
“Sweet Nothings! sweet nothings!,”
she echos once more
as she presses my eyelids
gently closed.
“Sweet Nothings! sweet nothings!,”
I hear again
as I drift off to sleep
sigh
“Sweet Nothings!”
Soul in a Bottle
Black rain falls on a purple night
A young heart bleeds;
Yearn to be free;
To be heard-
a heady mixture of pride and anger,
Frustration, sorrow and dreams-
This is the soul of the bound,
The trapped, the caged, the unfree
Imagine-
You are a spirit of light in darkness;
A flame beneath the sea;
An innocent wallowing in guilt;
Then...imagine you are Me-
You......cannot.
For it is my cross to bear
my pain to enjoy
my life to endure...
My soul in a bottle.
A young heart bleeds;
Yearn to be free;
To be heard-
a heady mixture of pride and anger,
Frustration, sorrow and dreams-
This is the soul of the bound,
The trapped, the caged, the unfree
Imagine-
You are a spirit of light in darkness;
A flame beneath the sea;
An innocent wallowing in guilt;
Then...imagine you are Me-
You......cannot.
For it is my cross to bear
my pain to enjoy
my life to endure...
My soul in a bottle.
Mr. Sun
( in response to Edward Hopper’s painting, Cobb’s Barns and Distant Houses )
Weren’t you there last evening?
Oh, come now
I saw you there
Yes, it was you
and I saw you
scurrying over the hills of golden grass
dried in the sun
Why, you were even dancing
on top of the barn, no less
And then you dallied in the meadow
fooling around with the wheat that grows tall
like a kitten with a ball of yarn
Ah, yes, you are a silly one, aren’t you
I saw you there last evening
painting the dull fields of ochre ten times more brilliant
and turning the crimson into scarlet
Mr. Sun, you lively creature,
how sad to see you go
and leave the golden fields blue
But I saw you there last evening
Weren’t you there last evening?
Weren’t you there last evening?
Oh, come now
I saw you there
Yes, it was you
and I saw you
scurrying over the hills of golden grass
dried in the sun
Why, you were even dancing
on top of the barn, no less
And then you dallied in the meadow
fooling around with the wheat that grows tall
like a kitten with a ball of yarn
Ah, yes, you are a silly one, aren’t you
I saw you there last evening
painting the dull fields of ochre ten times more brilliant
and turning the crimson into scarlet
Mr. Sun, you lively creature,
how sad to see you go
and leave the golden fields blue
But I saw you there last evening
Weren’t you there last evening?
Mirror, Mirror
He stood in front of the mirror for what seemed like hours, carefully examining his face, its features, memorizing every detail and noting every self-perceived flaw. Turning his head this way and that way, he strained to see his profile out of the corner of his vision. From the front, at a dead-on glance, he observed, he could be mistaken for a relatively handsome fellow. It was only when viewed from a flanking position that he took on the appearance of a rat.
For years he had suspected himself guilty of the crime of unattractiveness, but he was always able to blow it off; he had always found some way to distract himself, to avoid the issue. Now, it was staring him directly in the face and he knew there was no way he could ever out-run his own reflection. He reached for his toothbrush, and began to brush his teeth. As the peppermint-flavored paste foamed in his mouth, tingling his gums and giving him the appearance of a rabid animal, he glared into the mirror, angered at the way his top row of teeth over-lapped his bottom row of teeth.
After spitting and rinsing, and doing the Listerine thing, he returned once again to his detailed self-inspection. He noticed how his ears appeared to be lop-sided, sort of uneven-even. He swiftly found his sunglasses and put them on to test his theory. He concluded that either his eyes or ears were uneven, or his nose was crooked. He preferred to think his ears were the offending members simply because they could most easily over-looked.
He turned from the mirror, exiting the bathroom in disgust. He laughed aloud as he thought silently, giving himself the label, “God’s little practical joke.” How anyone could ever be attracted to an ugly scab like him was a complete mystery. But, he reasoned, at least he had come face to face with the reason for his dreaded loneliness; at least, now, he knew better than to blame himself. You don’t always get dealt a winning hand. Sometimes, you just gotta play the hand your dealt.
For years he had suspected himself guilty of the crime of unattractiveness, but he was always able to blow it off; he had always found some way to distract himself, to avoid the issue. Now, it was staring him directly in the face and he knew there was no way he could ever out-run his own reflection. He reached for his toothbrush, and began to brush his teeth. As the peppermint-flavored paste foamed in his mouth, tingling his gums and giving him the appearance of a rabid animal, he glared into the mirror, angered at the way his top row of teeth over-lapped his bottom row of teeth.
After spitting and rinsing, and doing the Listerine thing, he returned once again to his detailed self-inspection. He noticed how his ears appeared to be lop-sided, sort of uneven-even. He swiftly found his sunglasses and put them on to test his theory. He concluded that either his eyes or ears were uneven, or his nose was crooked. He preferred to think his ears were the offending members simply because they could most easily over-looked.
He turned from the mirror, exiting the bathroom in disgust. He laughed aloud as he thought silently, giving himself the label, “God’s little practical joke.” How anyone could ever be attracted to an ugly scab like him was a complete mystery. But, he reasoned, at least he had come face to face with the reason for his dreaded loneliness; at least, now, he knew better than to blame himself. You don’t always get dealt a winning hand. Sometimes, you just gotta play the hand your dealt.
Melancholy Sun
I stumble awkwardly
out of my silent repose,
finding an uneasy home
amongst thorns and briars
of flesh and concrete.
The scarlet fingers of Dawn
dangle about-
stiff and rigid, limp and malleable,
all in the same instance,
slithering here or there
with reptilian grace,
falling about the room
like drunken dancers-
ballerinas even-
having the poise of a sloth.
As the light finds my face,
covering my pale skin
in the golden hues of morning,
I rise to meet the day-
halfway, at least.
out of my silent repose,
finding an uneasy home
amongst thorns and briars
of flesh and concrete.
The scarlet fingers of Dawn
dangle about-
stiff and rigid, limp and malleable,
all in the same instance,
slithering here or there
with reptilian grace,
falling about the room
like drunken dancers-
ballerinas even-
having the poise of a sloth.
As the light finds my face,
covering my pale skin
in the golden hues of morning,
I rise to meet the day-
halfway, at least.
In The Head
A thought for the passerby;
We are never that
which imagine ourselves to be,
no matter
how hard we pretend
or how real the illusion.
We are merely stray thoughts,
glimpses of what might have been,
if things were different.
We are never that
which imagine ourselves to be,
no matter
how hard we pretend
or how real the illusion.
We are merely stray thoughts,
glimpses of what might have been,
if things were different.
How Free?
Aren’t we like Jell-O, though,
tightly pressed
into our molds,
forced to become something
beyond our control
And it is there,
while we refrigerate
cooled and hardened
and set in our ways,
that we sacrifice
our innocence
for the sake of conformity
and yet we remain
so firm in our malleability,
living oxymorons,
giving testament to the truth
that we all ought to fear.
How free
how free
are we really
in a prefabricated society
and were we ever?
tightly pressed
into our molds,
forced to become something
beyond our control
And it is there,
while we refrigerate
cooled and hardened
and set in our ways,
that we sacrifice
our innocence
for the sake of conformity
and yet we remain
so firm in our malleability,
living oxymorons,
giving testament to the truth
that we all ought to fear.
How free
how free
are we really
in a prefabricated society
and were we ever?
Eyes
My eyes have seen
far more than the mind records,
and they are sad
for the knowing.
For if knowledge is power,
then power is pain,
and I’d rather be
the clay in your hands.
far more than the mind records,
and they are sad
for the knowing.
For if knowledge is power,
then power is pain,
and I’d rather be
the clay in your hands.
Enter The Night
A cold winter’s breeze
chills the air
The hollow husk of trees
long since dead
Receive the rushing
Wind.
Howl. Moan.
Something dreadful
Like a song of mourning
the moon shudders
Against a frothy blue sky
Night
unfurls her magnificent darkness
As the day narrowly escapes
chills the air
The hollow husk of trees
long since dead
Receive the rushing
Wind.
Howl. Moan.
Something dreadful
Like a song of mourning
the moon shudders
Against a frothy blue sky
Night
unfurls her magnificent darkness
As the day narrowly escapes
Drowning
The other day
as i lay drowning
in the waves of grass
which surrounded me
a tiny grasshopper
an itsy-bitsy lemon-lime grasshopper
sporting stripes of lavender
hopped right up on my nose, he did and said, “Hey!
What’re you doing?
You can’t just go around
drowning yourself
when things look bad!”
Then he started telling me
about the Big Bang
and how the universe is expanding
but one day it’s gonna
collapse in on itself
except scientists really don’t know crap
cause there is a God
and if I drown myself now
the G-man upstairs’ll be real upset
but then he stopped talking
cause I told him to shut-up
“Fine!,” he said, “Go on,
drown yourself, whatever floats your boat, pal!
But don’t expect me to explain your epitaph!”
he had a point
whoever heard of someone
drowning in waves
of grass!
Then i put my arm around the sun
and we laughed
all night long.
as i lay drowning
in the waves of grass
which surrounded me
a tiny grasshopper
an itsy-bitsy lemon-lime grasshopper
sporting stripes of lavender
hopped right up on my nose, he did and said, “Hey!
What’re you doing?
You can’t just go around
drowning yourself
when things look bad!”
Then he started telling me
about the Big Bang
and how the universe is expanding
but one day it’s gonna
collapse in on itself
except scientists really don’t know crap
cause there is a God
and if I drown myself now
the G-man upstairs’ll be real upset
but then he stopped talking
cause I told him to shut-up
“Fine!,” he said, “Go on,
drown yourself, whatever floats your boat, pal!
But don’t expect me to explain your epitaph!”
he had a point
whoever heard of someone
drowning in waves
of grass!
Then i put my arm around the sun
and we laughed
all night long.
Chestnut Angel
Once again
I find myself sitting here,
alone in my dejection,
longing for your touch-
your embrace...
or just a warm glance
I am languid with desire,
overcome by an insatiable need
to look
in the fervid passion
of your gaze
God, how I long to be
lost somewhere
in your azure eyes-
I’d trade my whole world
just to be part of yours...
Oh, what I’d give
to run my fingers
through your rubescent hair,
luminous as the vermilion sunrise
And in my dreams
I can make you happy-
But, alas, my chestnut angel
you remain to me
an enigma,
ever close to my heart,
yet so far out of reach.
I find myself sitting here,
alone in my dejection,
longing for your touch-
your embrace...
or just a warm glance
I am languid with desire,
overcome by an insatiable need
to look
in the fervid passion
of your gaze
God, how I long to be
lost somewhere
in your azure eyes-
I’d trade my whole world
just to be part of yours...
Oh, what I’d give
to run my fingers
through your rubescent hair,
luminous as the vermilion sunrise
And in my dreams
I can make you happy-
But, alas, my chestnut angel
you remain to me
an enigma,
ever close to my heart,
yet so far out of reach.
Wallpaper
" Hi!," she said, smiling as she moved gracefully down the hall towards the spot where I stood, leaning against the wall, " What're you doing?"
" I'm learning to be wallpaper, " I replied, raising my head enough to meet her gaze.
" Is there some kind of trick to it, " she asked playfully, teasing me with her seductive grin.
" Well, Bridgett, you don't just learn to be wallpaper overnight, " I answered with a seductive grin of my own.
" You don't, eh?," Bridgett laughed, placing herself on the wall next to me.
" As a matter of fact, dear, there is quite a bit of effort involved in becoming a good wallpaper. Not everyone is wallpaper material, " I said, turning my nose skyward in feigned arrogance.
" So, you don't think I've got what it takes to be a good wallpaper?," she questioned, trying to sound offended between her light giggles.
" I didn't say that, " I muttered, trailing off slightly. " I think you would make a very beautiful wallpaper, " I said, turning to look at her face.
" You're a silly boy, Tim, " she said, laughing as she peeled herself from her spot on the wall, " C'mon, let's go have lunch. "
" I'm learning to be wallpaper, " I replied, raising my head enough to meet her gaze.
" Is there some kind of trick to it, " she asked playfully, teasing me with her seductive grin.
" Well, Bridgett, you don't just learn to be wallpaper overnight, " I answered with a seductive grin of my own.
" You don't, eh?," Bridgett laughed, placing herself on the wall next to me.
" As a matter of fact, dear, there is quite a bit of effort involved in becoming a good wallpaper. Not everyone is wallpaper material, " I said, turning my nose skyward in feigned arrogance.
" So, you don't think I've got what it takes to be a good wallpaper?," she questioned, trying to sound offended between her light giggles.
" I didn't say that, " I muttered, trailing off slightly. " I think you would make a very beautiful wallpaper, " I said, turning to look at her face.
" You're a silly boy, Tim, " she said, laughing as she peeled herself from her spot on the wall, " C'mon, let's go have lunch. "
Blue
The room was quiet, submerged in deep shades of blue, as a haunting breeze drifted in through the open window. The boy sat alone in the center of the room, staring at objects only he could discern, a pitifully grim look of sadness shone upon his rubbery face. Every once in a while, his dark lips would stretch, convulsing in hideous contortions. This was his smile, grotesque though it were, a smile nonetheless.
Invisible images danced before him, and he too, in his mind, joined in their festive practices. Acorn gypsies and pumpkin faeries, all were in attendance, dancing before the boy, and he with them. The shades of blue fled in haste, followed by hues of red and orange and green, as a lamp flickered on, threatening at any moment to allow the blue to, once again, overtake the room.
The boy withdrew to a corner of the room, as a soft voice called him to dinner. The invisible images ceased their dancing and a transparent, yet concerned, look came across their faces.
Suddenly, the room was filled with loud, boisterous music, too loud to be melodious. The boy withdrew further into his crevice in a corner of the room. The acorn gypsies and pumpkin faeries began to fade from the boy’s sight.
Then, as with much strain, the boy opened his eyes. The room was again submerged in shades of blue. He had been asleep. It was all a dream...
Invisible images danced before him, and he too, in his mind, joined in their festive practices. Acorn gypsies and pumpkin faeries, all were in attendance, dancing before the boy, and he with them. The shades of blue fled in haste, followed by hues of red and orange and green, as a lamp flickered on, threatening at any moment to allow the blue to, once again, overtake the room.
The boy withdrew to a corner of the room, as a soft voice called him to dinner. The invisible images ceased their dancing and a transparent, yet concerned, look came across their faces.
Suddenly, the room was filled with loud, boisterous music, too loud to be melodious. The boy withdrew further into his crevice in a corner of the room. The acorn gypsies and pumpkin faeries began to fade from the boy’s sight.
Then, as with much strain, the boy opened his eyes. The room was again submerged in shades of blue. He had been asleep. It was all a dream...
An Angel To Love
It’s Autumn time
and the leaves are turnin’ yellow
loneliness is in the air
and the world is turnin’ mellow
I am blue
and I’m awful lonely
‘cause I ain’t got no one
to call my one and only
what I need is someone
to hold me tight
and help me make pretend
it’ll be alright
I just need an angel
from heaven up above
I just need an angel
to love
When skies are blue
and everything is rosy
I see your face in the clouds
But I miss you mostly
for it’s true
when I’m walkin’ ‘round ‘bout noontide
I’ll be all alone
and you won’t be by my side
What I need is someone
to hold me tight
and help me make pretend
everything’s all right
I just need an angel
from heaven up above
I just need an angel
to love
and the leaves are turnin’ yellow
loneliness is in the air
and the world is turnin’ mellow
I am blue
and I’m awful lonely
‘cause I ain’t got no one
to call my one and only
what I need is someone
to hold me tight
and help me make pretend
it’ll be alright
I just need an angel
from heaven up above
I just need an angel
to love
When skies are blue
and everything is rosy
I see your face in the clouds
But I miss you mostly
for it’s true
when I’m walkin’ ‘round ‘bout noontide
I’ll be all alone
and you won’t be by my side
What I need is someone
to hold me tight
and help me make pretend
everything’s all right
I just need an angel
from heaven up above
I just need an angel
to love
Ancient Bones
I awoke this morning feeling as though I were a part of something ancient and old, like the continuation of some Egyptian saga, or maybe a Greek tragedy... or something. It seemed as though the rustling of leaves was in my bones..
A Melancholy Thought
I am stranded in thought,
lost in the knowing,
that things past cannot be rendered undone,
that tears shed cannot be unwept,
that hearts broken are not so easily mended,
that unanswered prayers remain forever unanswered,
and wishes seldom come true.
lost in the knowing,
that things past cannot be rendered undone,
that tears shed cannot be unwept,
that hearts broken are not so easily mended,
that unanswered prayers remain forever unanswered,
and wishes seldom come true.
A Fly's Romance
My armor glistened, green and blue highlights jumping off my back, as the sun beat down on me. I enjoyed the feeling of a warm sun massaging my chitinous exoskeleton, and the cool breeze that was the result of my high speed flight. An ocean of grass below me, cut into neat little squares by the humans transportation routes, waved hello as I passed overhead, on my way to me some friends at a near-by stream.
" Judas!," Rob cried, nodding his head to beckon my approach, " Where the hell have you been? We been waiting here for hours."
" Sorry, I found this sweet puddle of soda. I couldn't resist, it looked so inviting."
" Inviting, eh? You wanna hear inviting? Charlene asked about you. heh..heh!," Rob teased, knocking me off the blade of grass where I was perched.
" She did?," I fluttered, darting immediately to his side.
" I'm tellin' ya, she's got it bad for ya!," offered Tony, another one of my buddies.
" I told you it would pay off, all these months of doing nothing but coming out here to scope out the babes!," Rob added.
And it was true, he had said that. In fact, it was his idea for all of us, Rob, Tony, Ringo, and myself, to come out here to the stream every afternoon and check out the local damsel flies. We were all a bunch of single happening flies, so we figured by hanging around , we were sure to pick of some babes eventually. Ever since our first outing, though, I had my sights set on one lovely lady in particular. Charlene, for some inexplicable reason, had become my hearts desire. I loved everything about her, the way her sultry wings fluttered about, ever so gracefully, and the way her magnificent yellow eyes seemed to glow, even in the noon of the day. And, boy did she have a set of legs. Actually she had three, and for a fly, that's a real turn on! Anyhow, I'd tried every way I could think of to get her attention. I attacked a frog once, trying to impress her with my bravery. I almost got myself eaten, only to find out she wasn't even watching. So I decided to try the direct approach.
" Hi, Charlene," I stumbled across the words, " I think your the most beautiful fly I've ever seen and your wings look lovely today and the way you style your antennae is absolutely..."
" Judas?," she interrupted, " You're rambling!"
" Oh, sorry! What I mean to say is, I really like you and I was just wondering if I could call you sometime?," I finished, feeling that I would blush if weren't so damn arthropodic.
" Call me?," she questioned, a puzzled look in her eyes, " How do you plan to call me? We're flies, Judas, not humans! We don't make phone calls, we fly. That's why we're flies. Get it?"
I did. So, I hovered away, half-embarrassed and half-offended, but completely heart-broken. I actually sat on a bug-light for three days straight, waiting for some human to turn it on. But they never did. Turns out the family who owned the light was on vacation that week.
Needless to say, my luck with the ladies was in serious need of help. So the last thing I expected, was to hear that Charlene had actually asked about me!
" So she did? She really asked about me?," I quivered with excitement.
" Nope.," Ringo answered plainly.
" What? whaddaya mean, 'nope'?," I demanded.
" April fools!," Rob laughed, reminding me more of a hyena than a fly.
" She hasn't even looked out way since we got here!," Tony added, " I say forget her. Who needs dames anyway?"
" I do," I thought silently to myself as I looked over at Charlene, hovering gracefully above the stream. She was a thing of beauty, and, it seemed, well out of my reach.
" C'mon, let's get out of here!," Rob, cried leading the charge, as, one by one, we all darted away from the stream, crossing the divided ocean of grass, and returning safely home.
" I can't believe you guys did that to me! You know how I feel about Charlene!," I said, as we landed on a picnic table to rest.
" That's why we did it!," laughed Ringo, rubbing his front legs together.
" You guys are such bastard's!," I laughed.
Suddenly, the table shook with incredible force, like an earthquake, only smaller. I quickly took to the air, and in seconds, I was twelve feet in the air. I looked around me and saw Ringo and Rob.
" Where's Tony?," I worried, looking frantically about.
" He was with us?," Ringo answered.
" I know, nut where is he now?"
" I don't know," Rob replied.
I looked down to observe the table where we had been perched. There at the table, I saw a little sandy-haired boy, armed with a stick in one hand. In the other hand, he had Tony by one wing.
" He's got Tony!," I shouted, " What'll we do?"
" Nothing we can do, bro! If we go down there, he'll get us too!," Rob pleaded.
" There's gotta be something we can do!," I cried.
" What seems to be the problem?," I deep voice called to us from behind. It was Alistair, a local honeybee who was just passing by.
" That little boy down there had got our friend!," Ringo explained.
" I think I can help. Humans are scared of bees like me. Watch this!," Alistair shouted as he swarmed toward the little sandy-haired boy.
I watched intently as Alistair buzzed eerily around the boy's head. The boy swatted and swatted, to no avail. Still in his grasp, though, was Tony. Alistair continued his assault, and was joined by a friendly wasp. Perseverance prevailed in the end, however, and Alistair and the mysterious wasp were able to drive the boy away. But not before he had ripped one of Tony's wings off and tossed him into the ocean of grass.
" Tony!," we shouted as we raced to find him.
In a matter of mere moments, we found him, lying on his back, motionless and absent one wing.
" If only you weren't so damn slow!," I lamented.
" Awww, no! He's not...I mean he's gonna be......okay? Right?," Rob murmured softly.
" What're we gonna do?," Ringo wondered, struggling to maintain his composure.
Just then, the ground began to quake once more.
" Now what?," I cried out, frustrated and angry.
" I think we best not hang around, folks," Alistair suggested, " A patrol of ants is on its way. Though we have the size advantage, they have strength in numbers. There's nothing we can do for your friend now!"
We took flight, just in time to watch a horde of black ants, their ebony cuticular bodies glistening horrifically in the noon hour sun, steal away with Tony's lifeless form. We never spoke a word of that day after that, choosing to keep to ourselves the memory of the awful events which transpired.
One day, on our way the stream, we saw a house. It wasn't the first time we had seen a house, far from it. But this one was different. There was a large for sale sign in the front yard.
" What's that all about?," Ringo asked.
" It means the humans are moving out of this huge construct!," I answered.
" So, then, w could have the place to ourselves, eh? Free to have whatever crumbs they leave behind for our own?," Rob grinned with sparked interest.
" Yeah, I guess," I agreed.
" Then let's do it. Let's move in," Ringo decided for us all.
" Okay," I consented, " But Let's wait until they start to move out. Or else we'll end up like....let's just wait okay?"
We agreed to wait for the day of moving, and went about our business. However, our peace was short-lived. A group of Dragonflies showed up to give us a hard time. Actually, they showed up to give me a hard time.
" We hear you been hangin' around the stream, scoping out my babe!," cried Seth, the largest of the group.
" What are you talkin' about?," I replied.
" Charlene! She's mine! And I'll kill any of you's I catch hangin' around her. You don't touch her, you don't talk to her, you don't even look at her! Or I'll find you wherever you are!"
" Just what's your problem, eh? I'll take on all three of ya by myself!," Ringo boasted in vain glory.
" Ringo! Wait! Don't go doin' something stupid!," I call to him.
" Ringo?," Seth chuckled, " Ringo? He thinks he'd a beatle, boys!"
" I was....er...in another life!," Ringo darted back.
" Yeah, well, either of you come near my girl and we'll see about the next life!," Seth warned as he turned to fly away.
" Buzz off!," I muttered under my breath.
" Don't worry about them," Rob instructed, " They're full of hot air. That's all."
The days passed quickly by, and we spent them as we always had. We'd cruise around, spongin' up what food we could find, and then we'd head on over to the stream to check out the babes. I was determined, at least for my part, that no dragonfly was gonna threaten me off. I wasn't afraid, so I called him on his bluff. Turns out, though, he wasn't bluffing.
The next day, I found Rob crawling about on the concrete below, beaten, bruised, and wingless.
" They tore my wings off, the bastards!," he screamed in rage, " The bastards yanked 'em right off!"
" Will you be okay?," I asked.
" I'll be fine. I know a family of potato bugs who'll let me crash at their place in exchanged for my help in gathering food. I can't hang with you and Ringo anymore, though!"
" So this is it, huh? I'll never see you again?," I questioned.
" I guess so. But this isn't it! You gotta avenge me, somehow! I don't wanna wake up in the morning, and know that I lost 'em in vain. Go kill the bastard that did this to me....and then, go get that girl. 'cause you're good enough man! You are!"
" Thanks, Rob. I won't let you down," I shouted, as I flew off to meet my destiny.
I knew what had to be done. I had to find Seth, and challenge him to a duel. I went to the stream alone, I didn't want any more of my friends to get hurt. Of course, Seth was not had to find.
" Seth!," I called, glaring at him with all my multiple eyes.
" I thought I told you to stay the hell away!," he answered, hovering closer to me.
" Shut up, Seth! I'm through playin' games. I challenge you to a duel, to the death," I yelled in defiance.
" How stupid is that?," I laughed to his friend.
" Scared are we? But not scared enough to go ripping the wings off of folks!," I answered.
" Alright! You wanna piece o' this? Fine!," he shouted as he zoomed up high above the stream.
I followed him up, lunging at him as my fastest speed. He merely floated gingerly upward, then responded with a three-legged kick to my back.
" You oughtta know better! Ordinary houseflies can't much aerial skill with dragonflies! We're just better!," he taunted.
I lunged again, missing once more and receiving another kick for my effort.
" Bastard! Hold still!," I yelled angrily.
" Sure! Why don't I just rip my wings off for you!," Seth responded with sarcasm.
" Good idea!," I answered back, lunging once more.
This time, his kick sent me hurling to the ground. I lay there dazed for a moment, surrounded by tall blades of grass.
" Pssst!," I heard someone whisper, " Over here!"
Looking around, I found Ringo, lurking under the cover of a clump of grass.
" You need help! He's too, fast, too strong! But, we're houseflies. We're smarter!,” he suggested.
" You...have a plan?," I asked.
" Of course! Here's the deal. Get him to chase you, fly low, near those tall weeds over there. There's a spider-web over there. You're small. stay close to the right side of the gap between the weeds, and you'll be fine. But he'll never make it! Bingo! We win!," Ringo explained.
" Okay, but I hope this works!," I doubted.
I rejoined Seth in the air, and lunged a few more times. Then I made a mad dash for the grouping of weeds Ringo showed me.
" Come and get me, dumb-ass!," I shouted, as I sped hurriedly toward the weeds, and the awaiting spider-web.
" Haven't you learned yet? I'm bigger, stronger, and faster than you!," Seth cried as he took pursuit.
I was getting close enough to the weeds that I began to look for the spider-web.
" I don't see it! What was it he said...keep to the right! Here goes!," I thought to myself as I zoomed through the patch of weeds, and back up into the air.
" I'll catch you yet....what the? what the hell? a spider-web? I'm caught in a spider-web! Help!," Seth yelled, newly ensnared in the deadly arachnid trap.
"It worked!," I uttered allowed.
" Of course it worked, it was my plan!," Ringo took credit.
" I hate to leave unexpectedly, but I gotta run!," I yelled to Seth, as Ringo and I flew off.
Once we were safely back in our old familiar surroundings, we found a safe place to rest.
" You heard about Rob?," I asked.
" Yeah! He told me what you were gonna do. I figured you might need a hand, or a wing, an extra set of compound eyes, something!," Ringo answered.
" Hey, look!," I cried, nodding my head toward the house we had seen.
" It looks like they're moving out today!," I cried.
" Yeah, let's go and check it out. We'll do it for Rob!," Ringo offered.
We zoomed past a large moving van in the driveway, and came to roost on the front porch light. Peering in through the window, we could see that all of the furniture was gone already. Ah, but there was a prize to be had.
" Look at that, on the counter!," I cried.
" A mouth-watering bowl of fruit. And an apple, with a bite missing!," Ringo exclaimed.
" Let's do it!," I shouted, leaving my perch, and flying in through the open front door.
Together we entered the kitchen, landing directly on the once-bitten apple.
" This is good stuff, brother!," Ringo said, his sponging mouth-parts absorbing sweet nectar from the apple's exposed flesh.
Suddenly, the ground began to quake, a feeling I was becoming all to aquatinted with. I quickly took to the ceiling, hiding behind the now still blades of a ceiling fan. Ringo flew over to his left, burying himself in an open box of better cheddar's.
" Ringo!," I shouted, " Up here! They'll find you!"
" Sssssshhhhhh!," he answered back.
" Why are you ssssshhhhing? They can't hear us?," I asked, " Come on up here before they find you."
Just then, two humans entered the room. One picked up the once-bitten apple and began to eat it. . The other one grabbed the box of better cheddar's, and place it in another larger box, which he then carried out of the room. The other human followed him. Carefully, I followed them both.
" Ringo!," I shouted, " You've got to get out of that box!"
" Why?," he cried, " These are good!"
" Because if you don't, you're gonna end up moving with the humans!," I answered.
" What!?," he yelled, not realizing where he was.
The man carried the box into the moving van, and placed it snugly into a reclining chair. He proceeded to exit the van, and began to slide shut the door.
" Ringo!,I pleaded," For God's sake, hurry up! They're closing the door!"
I could see him inside the van's cargo area, flying as speedily as he could toward the door. Then the door was closed, and I couldn't see Ringo anymore.
" Ringo! You dumb bastard!," I shouted, watching as the van pulled away.
I had the house all to myself now, but somehow, it didn't feel like much of a victory without someone to share it with.
So, I flew back to the stream to be alone for awhile. It had been a rough week for me; in that short amount of time I had lost two friends. So, I was feeling a little out of sorts.
" Hey, stranger!," A soft voice called out to me.
I turned around to find myself face to face with Charlene. She smiled at me, as she perched deftly on a blade of grass opposite mine.
" Wow," I said, amazed, " So you can be friendly sometimes after all, eh?"
" Yeah, I can. With Seth gone, I can do just about anything I please," she added.
" But...I thought you guys were, like, together or something? I mean, at least that's the impression that I got from Seth. As a matter of fact, that whole fight was kind of about you!," I said, slightly confused.
" C'mon! I should think you'd credit me with having better taste than that! Seth was a very possessive guy. He asked me out once. I said no. Ever since then, he'd threaten any and everyone who even came close to me. He was a nut!," Charlene explained.
" That he was!"
" Look, Judas!," Charlene began, " I know I was a little rude to you the last time we talked.."
" A little?," I chuckled.
" Okay, alot! The point is, I'm sorry. I was angry because Seth wouldn't leave me alone, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry," she continued.
" So, does that mean I can call you?"
" Not exactly, we're still flies! We fly, see," she said as she buzzed over to the blade of grass I was perched on.
" So what does it mean?," I asked.
" It means you can still come and see me every day. Only from now on, there'll be no more Seth to give us a hard time!"
Just then, I heard a familiar voice calling me. The voice got louder, the closer it got.
" Judas!," the voice yelled repeatedly.
Suddenly, out from behind some brush across the stream, Ringo zoomed out.
" Ringo!," I shouted, flying up to meet him, " How did you escape?"
" Escape? No need to escape! Those humans only moved two streets over. Is that stupid or what?," Ringo related his tale.
" So much for seeing the world, eh?," I laughed.
" Yeah, really. So, uh, Judas. What's this? Did I miss something? Since when are you two hittin; off so well?"
" Since about right now!," I answered.
" See? It's just me and Rob have said all along. She's got it bad for you!," he continued.
" Please!," Charlene squawked, " I think it's the other way around!"
" Well I happen to have it on good authority that you are exactly right!," Ringo came back.
" Hey," I shouted, " I just thought of somethin'! Whay don't we go check out the empty house, no that the humans are gone?"
" Great idea! Let's go!," Ringo lead the way.
" Coming Charlene?," I turned to face her.
" Wouldn't miss it!," Charlene answered, stunned that I'd invite her.
" Well, then, c'mon dear. That house won't stay empty for long!,”
I replied, as the three of us flew off to the empty house.
" Judas!," Rob cried, nodding his head to beckon my approach, " Where the hell have you been? We been waiting here for hours."
" Sorry, I found this sweet puddle of soda. I couldn't resist, it looked so inviting."
" Inviting, eh? You wanna hear inviting? Charlene asked about you. heh..heh!," Rob teased, knocking me off the blade of grass where I was perched.
" She did?," I fluttered, darting immediately to his side.
" I'm tellin' ya, she's got it bad for ya!," offered Tony, another one of my buddies.
" I told you it would pay off, all these months of doing nothing but coming out here to scope out the babes!," Rob added.
And it was true, he had said that. In fact, it was his idea for all of us, Rob, Tony, Ringo, and myself, to come out here to the stream every afternoon and check out the local damsel flies. We were all a bunch of single happening flies, so we figured by hanging around , we were sure to pick of some babes eventually. Ever since our first outing, though, I had my sights set on one lovely lady in particular. Charlene, for some inexplicable reason, had become my hearts desire. I loved everything about her, the way her sultry wings fluttered about, ever so gracefully, and the way her magnificent yellow eyes seemed to glow, even in the noon of the day. And, boy did she have a set of legs. Actually she had three, and for a fly, that's a real turn on! Anyhow, I'd tried every way I could think of to get her attention. I attacked a frog once, trying to impress her with my bravery. I almost got myself eaten, only to find out she wasn't even watching. So I decided to try the direct approach.
" Hi, Charlene," I stumbled across the words, " I think your the most beautiful fly I've ever seen and your wings look lovely today and the way you style your antennae is absolutely..."
" Judas?," she interrupted, " You're rambling!"
" Oh, sorry! What I mean to say is, I really like you and I was just wondering if I could call you sometime?," I finished, feeling that I would blush if weren't so damn arthropodic.
" Call me?," she questioned, a puzzled look in her eyes, " How do you plan to call me? We're flies, Judas, not humans! We don't make phone calls, we fly. That's why we're flies. Get it?"
I did. So, I hovered away, half-embarrassed and half-offended, but completely heart-broken. I actually sat on a bug-light for three days straight, waiting for some human to turn it on. But they never did. Turns out the family who owned the light was on vacation that week.
Needless to say, my luck with the ladies was in serious need of help. So the last thing I expected, was to hear that Charlene had actually asked about me!
" So she did? She really asked about me?," I quivered with excitement.
" Nope.," Ringo answered plainly.
" What? whaddaya mean, 'nope'?," I demanded.
" April fools!," Rob laughed, reminding me more of a hyena than a fly.
" She hasn't even looked out way since we got here!," Tony added, " I say forget her. Who needs dames anyway?"
" I do," I thought silently to myself as I looked over at Charlene, hovering gracefully above the stream. She was a thing of beauty, and, it seemed, well out of my reach.
" C'mon, let's get out of here!," Rob, cried leading the charge, as, one by one, we all darted away from the stream, crossing the divided ocean of grass, and returning safely home.
" I can't believe you guys did that to me! You know how I feel about Charlene!," I said, as we landed on a picnic table to rest.
" That's why we did it!," laughed Ringo, rubbing his front legs together.
" You guys are such bastard's!," I laughed.
Suddenly, the table shook with incredible force, like an earthquake, only smaller. I quickly took to the air, and in seconds, I was twelve feet in the air. I looked around me and saw Ringo and Rob.
" Where's Tony?," I worried, looking frantically about.
" He was with us?," Ringo answered.
" I know, nut where is he now?"
" I don't know," Rob replied.
I looked down to observe the table where we had been perched. There at the table, I saw a little sandy-haired boy, armed with a stick in one hand. In the other hand, he had Tony by one wing.
" He's got Tony!," I shouted, " What'll we do?"
" Nothing we can do, bro! If we go down there, he'll get us too!," Rob pleaded.
" There's gotta be something we can do!," I cried.
" What seems to be the problem?," I deep voice called to us from behind. It was Alistair, a local honeybee who was just passing by.
" That little boy down there had got our friend!," Ringo explained.
" I think I can help. Humans are scared of bees like me. Watch this!," Alistair shouted as he swarmed toward the little sandy-haired boy.
I watched intently as Alistair buzzed eerily around the boy's head. The boy swatted and swatted, to no avail. Still in his grasp, though, was Tony. Alistair continued his assault, and was joined by a friendly wasp. Perseverance prevailed in the end, however, and Alistair and the mysterious wasp were able to drive the boy away. But not before he had ripped one of Tony's wings off and tossed him into the ocean of grass.
" Tony!," we shouted as we raced to find him.
In a matter of mere moments, we found him, lying on his back, motionless and absent one wing.
" If only you weren't so damn slow!," I lamented.
" Awww, no! He's not...I mean he's gonna be......okay? Right?," Rob murmured softly.
" What're we gonna do?," Ringo wondered, struggling to maintain his composure.
Just then, the ground began to quake once more.
" Now what?," I cried out, frustrated and angry.
" I think we best not hang around, folks," Alistair suggested, " A patrol of ants is on its way. Though we have the size advantage, they have strength in numbers. There's nothing we can do for your friend now!"
We took flight, just in time to watch a horde of black ants, their ebony cuticular bodies glistening horrifically in the noon hour sun, steal away with Tony's lifeless form. We never spoke a word of that day after that, choosing to keep to ourselves the memory of the awful events which transpired.
One day, on our way the stream, we saw a house. It wasn't the first time we had seen a house, far from it. But this one was different. There was a large for sale sign in the front yard.
" What's that all about?," Ringo asked.
" It means the humans are moving out of this huge construct!," I answered.
" So, then, w could have the place to ourselves, eh? Free to have whatever crumbs they leave behind for our own?," Rob grinned with sparked interest.
" Yeah, I guess," I agreed.
" Then let's do it. Let's move in," Ringo decided for us all.
" Okay," I consented, " But Let's wait until they start to move out. Or else we'll end up like....let's just wait okay?"
We agreed to wait for the day of moving, and went about our business. However, our peace was short-lived. A group of Dragonflies showed up to give us a hard time. Actually, they showed up to give me a hard time.
" We hear you been hangin' around the stream, scoping out my babe!," cried Seth, the largest of the group.
" What are you talkin' about?," I replied.
" Charlene! She's mine! And I'll kill any of you's I catch hangin' around her. You don't touch her, you don't talk to her, you don't even look at her! Or I'll find you wherever you are!"
" Just what's your problem, eh? I'll take on all three of ya by myself!," Ringo boasted in vain glory.
" Ringo! Wait! Don't go doin' something stupid!," I call to him.
" Ringo?," Seth chuckled, " Ringo? He thinks he'd a beatle, boys!"
" I was....er...in another life!," Ringo darted back.
" Yeah, well, either of you come near my girl and we'll see about the next life!," Seth warned as he turned to fly away.
" Buzz off!," I muttered under my breath.
" Don't worry about them," Rob instructed, " They're full of hot air. That's all."
The days passed quickly by, and we spent them as we always had. We'd cruise around, spongin' up what food we could find, and then we'd head on over to the stream to check out the babes. I was determined, at least for my part, that no dragonfly was gonna threaten me off. I wasn't afraid, so I called him on his bluff. Turns out, though, he wasn't bluffing.
The next day, I found Rob crawling about on the concrete below, beaten, bruised, and wingless.
" They tore my wings off, the bastards!," he screamed in rage, " The bastards yanked 'em right off!"
" Will you be okay?," I asked.
" I'll be fine. I know a family of potato bugs who'll let me crash at their place in exchanged for my help in gathering food. I can't hang with you and Ringo anymore, though!"
" So this is it, huh? I'll never see you again?," I questioned.
" I guess so. But this isn't it! You gotta avenge me, somehow! I don't wanna wake up in the morning, and know that I lost 'em in vain. Go kill the bastard that did this to me....and then, go get that girl. 'cause you're good enough man! You are!"
" Thanks, Rob. I won't let you down," I shouted, as I flew off to meet my destiny.
I knew what had to be done. I had to find Seth, and challenge him to a duel. I went to the stream alone, I didn't want any more of my friends to get hurt. Of course, Seth was not had to find.
" Seth!," I called, glaring at him with all my multiple eyes.
" I thought I told you to stay the hell away!," he answered, hovering closer to me.
" Shut up, Seth! I'm through playin' games. I challenge you to a duel, to the death," I yelled in defiance.
" How stupid is that?," I laughed to his friend.
" Scared are we? But not scared enough to go ripping the wings off of folks!," I answered.
" Alright! You wanna piece o' this? Fine!," he shouted as he zoomed up high above the stream.
I followed him up, lunging at him as my fastest speed. He merely floated gingerly upward, then responded with a three-legged kick to my back.
" You oughtta know better! Ordinary houseflies can't much aerial skill with dragonflies! We're just better!," he taunted.
I lunged again, missing once more and receiving another kick for my effort.
" Bastard! Hold still!," I yelled angrily.
" Sure! Why don't I just rip my wings off for you!," Seth responded with sarcasm.
" Good idea!," I answered back, lunging once more.
This time, his kick sent me hurling to the ground. I lay there dazed for a moment, surrounded by tall blades of grass.
" Pssst!," I heard someone whisper, " Over here!"
Looking around, I found Ringo, lurking under the cover of a clump of grass.
" You need help! He's too, fast, too strong! But, we're houseflies. We're smarter!,” he suggested.
" You...have a plan?," I asked.
" Of course! Here's the deal. Get him to chase you, fly low, near those tall weeds over there. There's a spider-web over there. You're small. stay close to the right side of the gap between the weeds, and you'll be fine. But he'll never make it! Bingo! We win!," Ringo explained.
" Okay, but I hope this works!," I doubted.
I rejoined Seth in the air, and lunged a few more times. Then I made a mad dash for the grouping of weeds Ringo showed me.
" Come and get me, dumb-ass!," I shouted, as I sped hurriedly toward the weeds, and the awaiting spider-web.
" Haven't you learned yet? I'm bigger, stronger, and faster than you!," Seth cried as he took pursuit.
I was getting close enough to the weeds that I began to look for the spider-web.
" I don't see it! What was it he said...keep to the right! Here goes!," I thought to myself as I zoomed through the patch of weeds, and back up into the air.
" I'll catch you yet....what the? what the hell? a spider-web? I'm caught in a spider-web! Help!," Seth yelled, newly ensnared in the deadly arachnid trap.
"It worked!," I uttered allowed.
" Of course it worked, it was my plan!," Ringo took credit.
" I hate to leave unexpectedly, but I gotta run!," I yelled to Seth, as Ringo and I flew off.
Once we were safely back in our old familiar surroundings, we found a safe place to rest.
" You heard about Rob?," I asked.
" Yeah! He told me what you were gonna do. I figured you might need a hand, or a wing, an extra set of compound eyes, something!," Ringo answered.
" Hey, look!," I cried, nodding my head toward the house we had seen.
" It looks like they're moving out today!," I cried.
" Yeah, let's go and check it out. We'll do it for Rob!," Ringo offered.
We zoomed past a large moving van in the driveway, and came to roost on the front porch light. Peering in through the window, we could see that all of the furniture was gone already. Ah, but there was a prize to be had.
" Look at that, on the counter!," I cried.
" A mouth-watering bowl of fruit. And an apple, with a bite missing!," Ringo exclaimed.
" Let's do it!," I shouted, leaving my perch, and flying in through the open front door.
Together we entered the kitchen, landing directly on the once-bitten apple.
" This is good stuff, brother!," Ringo said, his sponging mouth-parts absorbing sweet nectar from the apple's exposed flesh.
Suddenly, the ground began to quake, a feeling I was becoming all to aquatinted with. I quickly took to the ceiling, hiding behind the now still blades of a ceiling fan. Ringo flew over to his left, burying himself in an open box of better cheddar's.
" Ringo!," I shouted, " Up here! They'll find you!"
" Sssssshhhhhh!," he answered back.
" Why are you ssssshhhhing? They can't hear us?," I asked, " Come on up here before they find you."
Just then, two humans entered the room. One picked up the once-bitten apple and began to eat it. . The other one grabbed the box of better cheddar's, and place it in another larger box, which he then carried out of the room. The other human followed him. Carefully, I followed them both.
" Ringo!," I shouted, " You've got to get out of that box!"
" Why?," he cried, " These are good!"
" Because if you don't, you're gonna end up moving with the humans!," I answered.
" What!?," he yelled, not realizing where he was.
The man carried the box into the moving van, and placed it snugly into a reclining chair. He proceeded to exit the van, and began to slide shut the door.
" Ringo!,I pleaded," For God's sake, hurry up! They're closing the door!"
I could see him inside the van's cargo area, flying as speedily as he could toward the door. Then the door was closed, and I couldn't see Ringo anymore.
" Ringo! You dumb bastard!," I shouted, watching as the van pulled away.
I had the house all to myself now, but somehow, it didn't feel like much of a victory without someone to share it with.
So, I flew back to the stream to be alone for awhile. It had been a rough week for me; in that short amount of time I had lost two friends. So, I was feeling a little out of sorts.
" Hey, stranger!," A soft voice called out to me.
I turned around to find myself face to face with Charlene. She smiled at me, as she perched deftly on a blade of grass opposite mine.
" Wow," I said, amazed, " So you can be friendly sometimes after all, eh?"
" Yeah, I can. With Seth gone, I can do just about anything I please," she added.
" But...I thought you guys were, like, together or something? I mean, at least that's the impression that I got from Seth. As a matter of fact, that whole fight was kind of about you!," I said, slightly confused.
" C'mon! I should think you'd credit me with having better taste than that! Seth was a very possessive guy. He asked me out once. I said no. Ever since then, he'd threaten any and everyone who even came close to me. He was a nut!," Charlene explained.
" That he was!"
" Look, Judas!," Charlene began, " I know I was a little rude to you the last time we talked.."
" A little?," I chuckled.
" Okay, alot! The point is, I'm sorry. I was angry because Seth wouldn't leave me alone, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry," she continued.
" So, does that mean I can call you?"
" Not exactly, we're still flies! We fly, see," she said as she buzzed over to the blade of grass I was perched on.
" So what does it mean?," I asked.
" It means you can still come and see me every day. Only from now on, there'll be no more Seth to give us a hard time!"
Just then, I heard a familiar voice calling me. The voice got louder, the closer it got.
" Judas!," the voice yelled repeatedly.
Suddenly, out from behind some brush across the stream, Ringo zoomed out.
" Ringo!," I shouted, flying up to meet him, " How did you escape?"
" Escape? No need to escape! Those humans only moved two streets over. Is that stupid or what?," Ringo related his tale.
" So much for seeing the world, eh?," I laughed.
" Yeah, really. So, uh, Judas. What's this? Did I miss something? Since when are you two hittin; off so well?"
" Since about right now!," I answered.
" See? It's just me and Rob have said all along. She's got it bad for you!," he continued.
" Please!," Charlene squawked, " I think it's the other way around!"
" Well I happen to have it on good authority that you are exactly right!," Ringo came back.
" Hey," I shouted, " I just thought of somethin'! Whay don't we go check out the empty house, no that the humans are gone?"
" Great idea! Let's go!," Ringo lead the way.
" Coming Charlene?," I turned to face her.
" Wouldn't miss it!," Charlene answered, stunned that I'd invite her.
" Well, then, c'mon dear. That house won't stay empty for long!,”
I replied, as the three of us flew off to the empty house.
Nightscene by Timothy Paschall
Rustic urchins
lurk empty-bottled
with Neptunian eyes,
all briny and ocean-like -
The air is mangled,
vexed with irkish cacophony,
and shoved, uncooked,
like a jagged song,
through a rapacious flume -
I am rancid with passion,
rank, evil-smelling and rotten,
trapped in a quagmire
of perusal,
ramshackled and unabated,
boiled in tequilla spillways,
sodden, souted, soused,
three sheets in the wind,
slandered by swishy accounts,
my soul, secluded
and detached.
Morassed by a myriad
of ragtag ribble-rabble,
the night disintegrates
into the neon dazzle
of a midnight cabaret.
lurk empty-bottled
with Neptunian eyes,
all briny and ocean-like -
The air is mangled,
vexed with irkish cacophony,
and shoved, uncooked,
like a jagged song,
through a rapacious flume -
I am rancid with passion,
rank, evil-smelling and rotten,
trapped in a quagmire
of perusal,
ramshackled and unabated,
boiled in tequilla spillways,
sodden, souted, soused,
three sheets in the wind,
slandered by swishy accounts,
my soul, secluded
and detached.
Morassed by a myriad
of ragtag ribble-rabble,
the night disintegrates
into the neon dazzle
of a midnight cabaret.
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