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I woke up with
A sore back, and
stepped in cat
***** when my
feet hit the floor.
I turned on the
radio, and My Favorite
Things was playing,
the John Coltrane
version.
It reminds me of
rainy July nights.

I make some coffee,
And check the book sales.
Hey, I got a couple in
India, and the coffee tastes
right.

I take it as it comes.
Black and true, like
Steinbeck's bones.
Don’t forget about the
goings of mice and men.
Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vbj9bj58Txw
(a disastrous morning Sonnet)

I am the very model of a girl who’s late for morning meal,
my charger failed, the printer jammed, the morning’s start has been surreal
I lost a scrunchy and a shoe, I had to use some dry shampoo
my Keurig had no k-cups too, I’m feeling like a total shrew!

Our pre-dawn jog went really well, but now the morning's gone to hell
I couldn’t find clean underwear, I’m desperate to charge my cell,
I got some soap in my left eye, I stubbed my toe and nearly cried
While brushing teeth and hair in haste, I wonder why I even try.

Anna’s got an attitude, she’s not someone who’s normally rude
her hookup so ‘experimental’ has an irregular sleep-in schedule
how’s she going to get to class if she’s babysitting sleeping-lass
I guess I’m not the only one, who’s schedules simply come undone.

I woke her with a gentle voice and soothed her out—we had no choice
My morning happened to sideways go—but it fueled this grandiloquent tale of woe!
.
.
A song for this:
Something Stupid by Michael Bublé and Reese Witherspoon
Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 11/17/24:
Grandiloquent = the use of extravagantly pompous language
The sun's rays burn my skin

As God tries to erase my sin

But underneath nothing remains
''Don't vape, it's bad for you.''
But I do it too.

''It's okay to not feel okay right now.''
But I yearn to learn how.

''Don't talk bad about yourself, You're the most pretty person ever.''
But I wish my body was better.
Hey, no judgement right?
It’s hot in
Missouri.
The summer  
sun looks down  
jealous of
youth playing in
the fields,
carefree and
careless.
Kids drown
muskrats with
rocks in the
stream, and have
funerals for flies.
Death watches, and
waits for
winter to come.
Here's a link to my you tube channel where I read from my recently published book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, available on Amazon.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vbj9bj58Txw
""Umm, as far as supportive
He would have to support me financially"
"Umm, I like a man that has money (hahaha)
Umm, that has goals in life..."

It's night but I can't stay asleep
Like you do, straight through till morning
When you pour my coffee and say, "Baby
All that caffeine causes bad dreams
Where all your anxiety is unleashed"

Well, lately my days aren't much better
Can't concentrate when I'm at work
I just think and think until my head hurts
Of the payment plans I'm making
I just wanted to provide for you

But if you wanna make a run for it
My love, I'd cover you
And if you need money for bills
My lover, I could cover you

'Cause I sold some ****, I'm saving up
We can get that house next to the park
I'll get more hours at my dad's shop
Yeah, we'll plan for everything
And we'll enroll in that middle class
Get a compact car full of discount tags
If you're feeling trapped or too attached
Remember we wanted that

But if you need money for bills this month
My love, I'd cover you
And if you have to lie to everyone
Well, I'd cover up for you

'Cause we're growing older, growing up
Just like our parents before us
With your new job at the coffee shop
We're ready for anything
And we'll graduate that middle class
Get a nicer car full of shopping bags
If you're feeling sad, kind of detached
Remember we wanted that
Remember we wanted that
Remember that we wanted it
Yeah, remember

'Cause I sold some ****, I'm saving up
We can get that house next to the park
With the extra hours I picked up
We will pay for everything"
"Remember that we wanted this!"

Man And Wife, The Former (Financial Planning) by Desaparecidos

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNxHfmd-LCs
One who self assuredly
lieves be a self governing code,

watch where you are going,
trust
the practiced habituation,

rising
to the upright pose,
standing
on my own two feet,
stepping
into my own time alive

with Justin Johnson mellow blues,

mellow mental slow dance,
walkin'
by the windows,
looking
through my own reflection,

at whats appealing
to me, please
see something you want and need
and can afford,
you hear

the window dresser
thinking
to himself,
see my artful display,
and imagine owning the desirable

baubles
on display, but, not today,
too long ago
to care, yet

fishing
for forgotten goods,
thinking today could be the day,
when all involving my ever after
happens
to ever
after mean what me and you
think ever and after
at once do mean

can we signal senses
we think we share,
no question,
I suppose,
the answer is yes, we share
the very air we breathe,
with music in it.

But, but, beware,
the back beat,
telling me I have wasted all my days,

I glance back,
and see my shadow,
so I laugh, inside, seeing my progress
into the light
of ever after all I lost…

asking strangers
for a few minutes
we can someday share, sure and certain,
it was as real as anything,
at the moment

our selves are
not ourselves, not
another pair
of people facing after all,

we form a bubble
to be in, only we two,

could be
we must imagine some sense
we feel we must squeeze
from sense
as common as
the air we share.
Consciously acknowledging how good a rainy day in fire season makes things.
All the hard
times prepared me
for this.
The hopeless
times, black sun
sadness.
The long seasons of
madness.
Starving, like a
winter tomcat.

The hospital stays.
Jails and psych wards.
The fist fights under
bridges.
Midnight swims, drunk in
the Iowa River,
not drowned, only out
of spite.
All of this, and
much more got
me ready for this.

I’m sitting up in bed.
It’s 5:00 AM.
My three cats chase
each other, like
lovers in spring.
I’ve been sober
for almost two years.
I even quit smoking
cigarettes.
I’m writing regularly,
and publishing much
of it.
It’s mostly well received
worldwide.
I’m sipping a hot cup
of coffee.
It’s from Sumatra and has
notes of herbs and earth.

I look at the pictures of
Van Gogh and
Hemingway above my
antique maple desk,
as I listen to Mozart.
A writer needs four walls.
I have so much more,
children
wisdom
cats
and gratitude, the most
important thing I
found.
Here's a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vbj9bj58Txw
(a university-life vignette)

It’s a Friday night, Leong and I are at a small restaurant close to the dorm called “Ordinary.” We’re in a cozy, pleasantly dark, little red booth—waiting for Lisa—who’s running late. This is Leong’s favorite bar and her taste in exotic drinks is labile—tonight she has us drinking ‘Maker’s Mark,’ a delicious, straight-up bourbon, with a twist of orange peel.

We’re on our second—and I’m starting to buzz—did I mention Lisa’s running late? On a hot note, we’re celebrating. I turned in the first draft of my thesis prospectus last Wednesday and this morning I got it back - accepted.

But more importantly, when I tore into the envelope, back in my room, there was a yellow sticky-note on the prospectus that read like an academic valentine. It said:
“Anais, you write beautifully, with the economy of a poet.”
I may have danced around my room.

So, we’re sitting there, sipping our drinks and noshing on a charcuterie platter when this cute, hipster, Princeton transfer-student guy named Milo showed up—drink in hand. He’s like, 5 '11 with light-brown medium-longish hair tucked behind his ears and he’s wearing a light blue, textured cardigan over a tan t-shirt and leaf-green work pants. At first, he’s walking by, but he spots us and stops.

“Has anyone ever told you look like Anais Vionet?” He asked me.
“No,” I replied, “never.” “You sound like her too,” he followed up.
“Well, I wouldn’t know,” I answered, shaking my head ‘no’ and shrugging.
“But she’d never come to a dive this cheap,” he updogged.
“Oh, yes she would,” I assured him.

Then, I gasped, remembering. Milos on one of Yale’s 500 soccer teams. “You guys lost to Princeton the other day! Isn’t that your alma mater? Congratulations!”
“Thanks, for bringing that up,” he said somewhat chagrined,
“We lost one-to-nil—it was just bad luck,” he said defensively.
“Oh, bad luck,” I chided him.

He did look tired and defeated, so I motioned him to take a seat. He slid right in next to Leong, who’s hand he shook, “Milo,” he said.
“I KNOW,” she said, in a sly and evil way—we’ve talked about him, conspiratorially—even she thinks he’s cute—and cross-culturally-cute isn’t easy.

“Are you superstitious?” Milo asked us—turning so Leong was included.
“Oh, sure,” I spoke first, “I was raised catholic, and even if you don’t hundo-p believe, it carries over. I always carry a lucky crystal with me—you know, for tests and what-not—I depend on that, as opposed to diligence and studying.”

“You have one with you now?” He followed up.
“I do,” I confessed, “I always have one in my bra.”
“Wow,” he laughed, “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I chuckled, “For luck—in case I need to appear supper fun and sassy? Though I guess I’m proof crystals don’t work.”
“Do you really have a crystal in your bra?” He asked, sipping his whisky.
“Yeah,” I said, sliding my hand discreetly into my left cup and bringing out a tiny, flat green, polished Jade stone crystal. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” He asked.
“Nah, there’s plenty of room in there,” I admitted, sliding the crystal back in place.

“Leong’s superstitious,” I said, nodding to her.
“All Chinese are superstitious,” Leong pronounced, “whenever I had a big exam at school, my mother would go and leave a chicken at the temple.”
Milo and I chortled—I’d actually seen women do that when I lived in Shenzhen.
“Well, I guess it worked!” Milo pronounced, and he and Leong high-fived.
“We have a saying, ‘it’s better to be lucky than good,” he added.
We say, “Yùnqì zhòngyàoguò nénglì,” Leong noted, in Cantonese.
“Luck is more important than ability,” I translated.
Speaking of luck, Lisa finally arrived.
.
.
Songs for this:
Where Are You by 54 Ultra
Cut Glass by mark william lewis
Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 11/12/24:
Labile = open to change.

My thesis topic is "Molecular dynamics simulations of protein folding (or protein-protein interactions)." It isn't easy to give it a poetic twist.

Our cast:
Leong, (roommate) 21, is from Macau, China - the Las Vegas of Asia and she’s a proud communist (don’t knock it til you’ve tried it). She's a ‘molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major.’ I speak Cantonese—which may be why we were paired—I lived in Shenzhen China (about 30 miles from Macau) - we talk a lot of secret trash together.

Lisa, (roommate) 21, my bff. Grew up in a posh, 50th floor residence on Central Park South in Manhattan. She shares my major (Molecular biophysics and biochemistry) and is easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in RL (and is sensitive about it). Our tastes match, in everything (fashion, media, music, humor) except men.
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