The joke is on you
When I remember,
Because I do remember.
When I met her she was miles away
Across oceans and mountains and valleys,
Tethered and turned away.
When I met her there was not a chance.
And yet I've been so close,
So close I could have wept with joy.
So close I felt her heartbeat like a drum against my chest.
She has held me in her arms and told me
It will be okay.
And whatever happens,
I can't miss her as much as I missed her
When I met her.
I write you this letter,
hoping to make things better.
Not really sure what happened,
it wasn't quite what I imagined.
We were once the best of friends,
what can I do to make amends.
You don't answer my telephone calls,
did you suddenly loose your balls.
Not sure what I did so wrong,
thought our friendship was very strong.
We used to do everything together,
not a storm we couldn't weather.
Now I'm bored and feeling alone,
will you please just throw me a bone.
My once pal, I hope you're not my enemy,
remember when we planned to kill Kennedy,
Then we killed and buried Jimmy Hoffa,
we drowned our guilt with a bottle of vodka.
I'm starting to worry, maybe you're missing,
remember all the girls we shared kissing.
We had a menage a trois every night,
our future was so bright.
I miss our random killing spree,
nothing made us feel more free.
We were called the dynamic duo,
now I'm just riding solo.
I picked up a newspaper and what did I see,
you were found at the bottom of the sea.
Now I know why you never returned my text,
I better run or I'll be next.
No reason to send this letter now,
then one day while milking my cow,
the F.B.I. gave me a visit,
I had no get out of jail ticket.
I got sentenced to the penalty of death,
I wish we were together when we took our last breath.
My music was on shuffle
In his room,
The song changes as he
Grabs my hips and is
On top of me
But I don't want what he wants, so
I start to wish I wasn't there
But I know I can't speak up, and it's
My own fault
I close my eyes, listening to the song
In the background
All I really need, is to breath
How ironic because all I can hear
Is his deep breathing and mine
He takes off his shirt first and
I don't say anything, so
He takes off mine next
she opens her eyes, suddenly she cries
But the song is wrong this time
Because I don't feel
Suddenly I'm put on top of him
So despondent, but he doesn't
I look up trying to avoid
Eye contact as his greedy hands
Turn my body ice cold
I fake it oh so well,
That God himself can't tell
I keep listening, removing my mind
From my body
Finally he starts to unbutton
And I am so quiet, too afraid to
Say "no", to say
But with all this built up fear,
I need to remember they are not
All the same, he is not
Not like the last, so I whisper
You ask me what I need,
And all I really need, is to breath.
The music is the only sound
Between our stares, and I seem unable to
Say anything else
So he breaks the tension with a
Disgusted look and
"Don't ruin the night"
My heart drops as a tear begins to form,
I look away before he can see and
This time I get up,
Out of his bed
With his look of disgust following me
I will not let his words ruin me
Like the last
Clothed and self conscious,
I turn my music off as he tries to
But all I hear is the music
Replaying in my head
As I walk out the door
Let me breath
I woke up and look outside my window,
I opened it and feels the wind blow,
Its going to rain I supposed,
My mind is in peace but I'm emotionally drown,
Then suddenly theres this feeling,
Came and hit me without warn.
I’ve got to sleep on the outside of the bed
closest to the window
closest to the door
it’s crossed my mind
more than once
more than a few times
more than enough times
that it must be because I like to run away
and an easy exit
is a relief
I’ve always liked to run away
I’ve always liked too much space
by the wall
my heart pounds
like I’m trapped
and there’s something so stupid
if I need to get up to pee or get a glass of water,
or stand underneath the moonlight,
I’ll wake him up
and the intimacy of sharing an
"I can’t sleep" moment
scares the shit out of me
because the question "why?" always follows
and I’m not ready to answer that question
just yet -
even though we’ve had sex,
I’m not ready to be that intimate
I can’t stand a man
though it seems like most of them do
and all I can do
is make do
and just lay there, until suddenly,
but then he’ll move and I’m awake again,
until suddenly I’m not
and then it’s morning
and our breath smells
and it’s embarrassing to kiss
until it’s not anymore
and then I’ll want him to leave
but it’s rude to ask someone to leave
even though everyone has the right to
want to be
I’m beginning to run away
These young and new hands
Feel a forever weight of a ring.
They feel the roughness
Of a mans body.
Of clinging to his hand and
My hands, one moment squeezing
The living shit out of everything
Is now sweetly caressing
A newborn babe.
I feel my hands hold it
And so cautiously,
And that is how
My hands dealt with him
For his life.
When he was sick
I'd rub his tummy
Or hold him
Or hug him
And feel my hands clutch
The safety grip
In the car as I taught him to drive.
Feel my hands holding onto a
Red graduation cap.
My hands feel a new babe,
And my hands help out
To take care of her.
They would hold her
Until her father
And my son
Took her away into his.
And I feel her grow up
With every hug
And every pat on the knee.
And I'm so busy
Working with my hands
I don't notice them
Until I am failing to
Open a simple bottle for Advil.
I notice them.
And their veins
And their knuckles
And their soft old skin.
I feel their tiredness
And see their old spots.
So busy with anything else in this world,
I didn't realize I was
is a weird thing.
I haven't realized that I've grown up.
Being a Summer baby I've always focused on the fact that everyone's getting older than me.
The only time I realize how much time has passed is when I look at the people around me.
Cousins who I saw the day they were born are now entering kindergarten.
Sisters go from being innocent little girls making words out of barrettes have suddenly picked up smoking, and a number of boys with bad reputations, and a hatred for me.
Friends are planning their futures, living in cities far from the ones that we had known.
And I didn't even realize what I've become.
I'm living the dream I've had since I was small, walking the streets I've thought about since I was a little girl, being responsible after realizing that 'out of control' was not a phase that suited me.
Time passes so quickly, and I didn't even realize it until I took a step back.
I thought I was finally over you,
I thought I could learn to feel passion again
I thought time had passed
And healed my wounds
But I just split them open again
Just when I thought I was over you
I start to think about what we had
Just when I thought
I could be happy too
I suddenly feel terribly bad
I see you with him in the eye of my mind
And my mind simply won't turn away
I long for the touch
Of your lips all the more
But you left. No. I threw you away.
There have been days I wish I could forget
About you, and about what I did
But I couldn't live
Without you in my life
So to you, farewell I'll not bid
And though days carry me onwards
Into weeks, months, and years
I'll pay my penance
Day in and day out
Yes I pay my due debt
With true tears.
colorful blanket of autumn leaves
covered the clearings between the trees
the sound of crackling under my steps
broke the silence in my mind
cold air and a puddle along the road
reminded me of a last night's storm
I walked towards the shallow lake
whose calm surface reflected azure sky
embellished with few translucent clouds
I was amazed by its surreal beauty;
so persistent in its existence
and yet, so deceptively comprehensible,
a thought about the transience of all
suddenly overcame me;
a thought, so profoundly insightful
and sublimely unclear, at the same time
awoke dormant memories
of what has passed and is forever gone...
I threw pebbles in the lake, defiantly,
and watched the ripples distort
almost perfect reflection of reality,
to diminish the overwhelming feeling
In late 1888, a Wells Fargo stage
Was relieved of its freight-
A strongbox, taken from its hold,
held thousands of dollars in coins of gold.
The brigands had a master plan,
To bury that box,
sit, and wait-
Then dig it up at a later date.
They found a spot on rock-hard ground-
Where it would lie, safe and sound,
So they sank it in a three foot hole-
to hide that box with coins of gold.
But what they didn’t realize,
that in the distance, sat a pair of eyes-
That had watched the whole event unfold-
and watched, as they buried that chest with gold.
Late that night, under a pale, lantern, light-
a shovel's blade split those rocks-
and the hole was relieved-
of that strongbox.
William Nelson Riddle, owned that property-
And he lived with a basic philosophy-
“Since it was found, on my ground-
I guess it belongs to me.”
“Nelson” died in ’28, at age of 85-
He never said what happened to,
Or if, that chest survived-
And the "Legend of Riddle’s Gold"came alive.
As time passed, the story grew-
each year, a bit more grand-
That Nelson took that strongbox-
And hid it elsewhere on his land
Greed is one of the “seven sins”-
"Everybody loses, and nobody wins"-
But the “want” for gold is a mighty strong thirst-
So his kin set out for a “family search.”
At morning’s dawn, the kinfolk came-
To search for gold, fortune, and fame-
They came with shovels, spades, and hoes-
And some “TNT”, so the story goes.
With disregard for propriety,
they descended upon the property-
Without a map, without a plan-
They spread out to search his land.
Now, the rabbits and the coyotes,
and the gophers(one or two)-
Gathered on a little knoll,
To have a better view.
They knew what was going to happen-
It was just a matter of time-
When the dew had disappeared,
And the morning sun had reached it’s prime
They dug a hole here, and dug over there-
The morning sun was getting hot-
and everywhere they looked –
Was for naught.
Now, it isn't very clear
as who said what, to who-
But it must have been insult'n-
to start that ballyhoo.
There was push'n and shove'n
and calling names galore!
Yell'n and cuss'n
using words you ain't heard before!
And that was just the men-folk-
the women got in it too-
screaming heard, from north to south-
Those words should never come, from a ladies mouth.
Fists being swung, shovels slung!
dust was kicked up in a ball-
nothing could be more entertaining-
than watching a family free-for-all!
Then suddenly, it came to a stop !
as quick as it began-
They gathered up all their gear-
and departed Nelson's land.
This is where the story ends-
all I know is what I'm told,
From my daddy, for he'd been sitting,
atop that little knoll.
(This is how I would like to have it end)
Somewhere in the "high above"-
at a table, two people sat-
One, wearing suit and tie-
and Nelson, with his beard and hat.
"Nelson, a lot of folks have you to thank,
for bringing that strongbox to the bank-
you saved a lot of folks their homes and farms."
Nelson, from his chair, arose-
standing erect, and proud-
Stroked his beard, then tweaked his nose,
smiled, and faded into the clouds.
(thanks folks for your patience)
Copyright September 16-2013 Richard Riddle