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Jul 2011 · 649
A Daily Tale
Morning
The bird at the window is not there this morning.
I hope the storm did not scare it away.
I was going to wear my flannel but decide against it
Everyone in this town thinks they look original in it
My mother made oatmeal and I pick out the raisins, but add extra brown sugar
Afternoon
I meet my best friend at the junk yard
We have known each other since we were two
We are looking for an old bicycle so I do not have to pester my bother for rides anymore
She thinks I do not notice she has been crying that morning
We find a yellow one and she tells me the cheeriness of it matches my face
Evening
I say good bye to my best friend, I have learned not to ask about her tears anymore
I know why, but we do not discuss it
My dad is pulling out weeds that never seem to stop growing
I show him my new bicycle
I kneel next to him and help him with the stubborn plants
Night
It is not storming tonight
My sister comes into my room with a book she wants me to read to her
We start exploring far off lands
When it is finished I tell her goodnight
I settle deep within my covers and let the moonlight flood over my freckled face.
Jul 2011 · 470
We Grew Up
Do you remember me?
You kissed me
Perhaps we simply had too much to drink that night.
You tasted passion
I tasted lust
Coursing through our veins.
December was melting away
January called us to be reckless
To forget about the past and even the future.
Our fingers scrabbled to unveil one another
We knew each others hearts
We wanted to see the other in sacred ways
I tasted blood as our lips connected.
We threw ourselves across the ground
The bruises will be proof it is not all a dream
I have forgotten who I am
This moment is all I want to be right now
Here on this shaggy floor
Exchanging California breaths
Earnestly hoping I have not forgotten a segment of your body with my fingers
         January is over
         February is so cold
Apr 2011 · 614
Future Engagments
The roof is slick with dew, but tonight that won’t stop me
As a rabbit goes into its home I squeeze through the bathroom window
Here I can breathe.
My soul. Torn.
Can tears of sorrow stream down your cheek, but your heart still smile?

Like Job when having lost everything still chooses to trust
Sitting in a pile of ashes picking the scabs from his skin

My teeth are still fuzzy from the cigarette we shared down at the harbor
I promised my frail beautiful mother I would never have one
With you though, it is a memory forming, not something suffocating my lungs


I remember the first night I stroked your hair and told you everything would be alright
You left tear stains on my shoulder.
Or the morning the crickets awoke us and we lay on the balcony naming our favorite childhood books
I do not remember what you said, but it involved a fairy tale

It was prophetic; fairy tales always come your way
Maybe because your prayers are filled with words like
Magic.
Happily ever after
Princess and King.

The morning sun is ascending
I am happy for you.
I told the cardinal sitting on the birch tree
I know you will forget me
I am like the smoke of the last cigarette we shared.
Vapor.

— The End —