a bucket list for the mind if you will

He said he caught himself thinking of my long legs when I was absent.

I froze...Silent and annoyed...

Perhaps he was over confidant when he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine.

I slapped him.

It made me feel cheap so I lit a cigarette. I inhaled deeply watching the smoke swirl... if I could just fade away with it.

Lights to bright and sounds that burst. My head hurts...I flick my ash.

Now he's frozen...just watching me.

Perverts and nicotine have the same stench. Both a bad habit I need to quit.

Returning from the grocery store,
my only trip out in weeks,
I passed by our small town's
High School, all pandemic
deserted and shuttered now.

Slowing, I stopped my car,
taken by momentary joyfulness,
out there in bright blue Band
uniform on the football field,
a single drummer marched
all alone,

Her enthusiastic snare drum  
echoing out stirring, lonely
rhythmic staccato sounds.

This solitary stalwart drummer
practicing in the rain, rehearsing
skillful steps and robust drum
beats, until she gets the call.

Remaining ever ready when
normalcy reluctantly comes rolling
back around. Where marching bands
and football players once again tread
upon this nearly hallowed ground.

He was supposed to survive the war
To staunch his enemies and never flinch
Beware of dangers, be always ready
To live the horrors that skin you alive
They make you bleed
The poor man's blood
Pours down the trenches
In dreadful stench
He looks at the skyfall
But never sees it
Behind the curtain
Of blood and tears.
He belongs to nothing
And nothing fears.

Fingers of fire
Flaming desire
Flirting with strings
Melted angel wings
Acoustic profanity
Electric insanity
Liquid bricks in your heart
Tearing you apart
A nuclear star
Now that is the sound of a proper guitar!