it's a *****,
an *******,
an enemy,
a nightmare -
but only if i am.
what if i tried being nicer?

i hear a cello,
softly playing a soothing note,
long and sustained
in the pre-dawn darkness.
a slow crescendo,
and the note changes from lull to urgency
as a clarinet joins in,
followed by the violin in descant,
solo notes filling the chord,
one by one,
the orchestra joins,
as with the sun it builds to furious rate,
then all at once dropping off,
and the cello sings alone
as the sunlight breaks over the hilltops
and says its good morning to me.

it's tuesday again,
and the clouds are rolling in,
and the boss wants his paperwork,
and the cat left a hairball on my pillow,
and the car's making a funny noise,
and the gas bill is due,
and the trash has to go out,
and my friend cancelled our appointment,
and i want to go on a date or something,
and i didn't get to finish my coffee,
and my ankle hurts,
and today just ***** because there are
a million things wrong with it
and only a few of them are my fault
but i have to deal with them anyway
and why can't i just relax
and get through this day,
go home and have a drink
and sit on the porch watching when the rain finally hits -
and then i see her,
and i know that what she's going through
is so much worse than these petty things,
and she smiles through it.
so i smile, too.
on a tuesday,
as the clouds are rolling in.

i know now why he did it -
dropped me off in a strange city with
all my belongings
on the side of the curb,
with instructions,
"don't forget to write."
and it stung,
even though i knew it was coming.
if i could go back and explain to my younger self,
there are two things i would say:
he hates goodbyes.
he's saying he trusts you.
it would have made a big difference.

there's nothing like the wind at my back,
pushing me forward,
augmenting my strength,
decreasing my time
and building my power higher,
it's easy.
but it is the headwind
against which i become stronger,
faster and more able,
it is the resistance against which
i push, strive, hone my senses -
it is against struggle where i define myself.

a smoky melody plays inside my heart,
bits and pieces,
a note or two given by a friend,
a shared experience,
a lover gave me a measure,
tragedy supplied a blues refrain,
and i spent years trying to find the hook,
that part you can't get out of your head
but have to sing over and over,
like a skip in the vinyl.
and just when i think i find it,
something new and unexpected
comes along and changes the tune,
until at last it will simply be my life,
set to the music i love.

my lover's touch -
a jolt of electricity through me each time,
even when it's simply holding my hand
or a quick caress of my cheek -
a magical element
that entices me
and hold me as willing captive,
drawing me closer,
at once aware of the both of us,
our wants and hungers,
the secret needs that live just out of range of telling,
but we know, anyway.

there is nothing
i live for
more than that moment
when you wake
and catch me looking at you,
smiling with your eyes
as we say "good morning."

sometimes i like
to watch the coal barges
go by slowly,
and imagine they are
traders from another land,
traveling great distances
to see these shores.

i know it's not true,
but it makes the mundane,
the ***** and wretched lumps of coal
seem as though they are exotic spices,
or silks, or precious jewels,
arriving just so i can get a look at them.

inhale:
good air,
rich and full,
fresh,
vibrant and lively.

exhale:
toxic,
used up,
empty,
worthless and needless.

who know life could be so simple as this thing we do unceasingly?

i wish i could stop it all -
the pains and slights we cause each other,
the struggles and the hurts
i see people enduring -
i would take it all upon myself without
hesitation,
carry the weight of the world,
bear it all,
if only because i can.
but even superman hurts,
and try though i might,
the world hurts too much for me to carry,
and i can only take so many cuts away from others before i bleed.
i must choose whom i can protect,
who needs it, when, and how,
and when to let them know that being superman hurts.

you said i wouldn't
i agreed.

you said i shouldn't
and i began to question why.

you said i couldn't
and then i went out and showed you
that you were wrong all the time -
because i did.

when at last i shall sleep,
and take my leave of this life,
this strange existence of pains and torments,
and brief periods of rest between them,
i shall look back upon it all,
and wonder at the brilliant mosaic
formed from the choices i made,
the things i did,
the people i loved,
and the difference i have made for them,
and what they have done for me,
and i will find the happiness i seek.

i know why you do it -
the back-and-forth,
the maybe-maybe-not daily ritual of
non-committal niceties
and incongruent  actions
that keep everyone on the edge -
it's a control,
a way of dealing with the world
so you can face another day,
so you can look in the mirror and feel good about yourself,
and know there's something that depends on you,
and your upside-inside-down-out life
has a moment of peace in it that you can understand.
And that's fine -
you need to function that way,
to play the puppeteer.
But I do not dance that way.

down, down,
water rushes happily,
gurgles and splashes and trickles and drips
as it feeds the mosses on the stony creekside,
too slick to walk there,
too beautiful to approach,
a place meant for witnessing from a distance,
not to be touched,
only savored by the ear and eye,
hidden back among the hemlock,
where only those with enough daring can go
and feel the presence of Nature,
her empowering spirit,
and the sense of peace She longs for,
as the water falls down,
cleansing and nourishing my soul and Hers.

i love the way a man's kiss
is rough to the touch,
but delicate after only a moment.
his touch, firm and longing,
holding on as long as he can,
a strange desperation in that moment of want,
where it's difficult to discern want from need.
to feel his bristly lip brush against mine,
his hot tongue in my mouth,
melting together in a moment of bliss.

i've asked "why" so often,
i forget that others do it, too.
i am only a small part of the Whole,
and i have my role to play,
to bring beauty to this world,
to bring a smile,
and maybe tears,
to touch the minds and hearts
of so many,
or maybe just a few -
and be content with that.
such is my peace,
and it is also my power.
once every great while, the universe
takes time out to answer,
"this is my canvas - let it be yours as well."
and i am humbled and honored together,
invigorated,
knowingly, purposefully,
a piece finding his home in the Whole.

magic grabbed me,
guided me into its welcoming arms,
held tight and opened my eyes to
marvelous wonders
that i never could imagine.
and then, it pushed me away,
a fickle mistress that  cannot be tamed,
and i was left all alone,
forsaken,
forgotten by the world as i fell into despair.
it happened slowly,
but i began to understand,
through trial and turmoil,
that i was not abandoned-
that when magic touched me,
it entered in,
became part of me,
changed me,
until i was ready to become something
greater than i was before:
i am magic,
and i will do for others
what has been done for me.

they said "alone is bad."
by myself i find peace.

what does a house become
if left unattended?
en empty shell,
darkened inside,
a place where emptiness takes root
and grows,
slowly destroying
the hopes and dreams of the builder
from the inside.
black windows look out
as dead eyes of a corpse
stare at the abyss,
unmoving,
uncaring.
it is a house without a soul.

i used to do it all the time,
as a child, i could not stop,
but had to move at a constant break-neck pace.
i would race my brother,
even though i knew he would win.
but i would run anyway.
somewhere, i gave up,
when i couldn't win,
was no longer the fastest,
and it became clear that i was built for other things.
now, i run to reclaim what i lost
so many years ago.
i run to stay in shape,
to avoid the fate of my father,
to feel the joy again, as i did when small,
of running for the sake of it.

there is no word
to sum up all that you were -
there is only the music
you loved so much,
that will stay on as a reminder
to the rest of us
that life should be cherished,
always,
and lived with the fullness
of the music that played in your heart.

i love the way you know me,
what buttons to push,
and when,
and how i'll respond to each one,
to get the ultimate pleasure
out of every moment
of sweet blissful agony,
how i will barely be able to contain myself,
maybe resist making an unplanned trip to the bathroom -
maybe not,
my heart beating faster,
anticipation my new drug,
brought on by your quiet relentlessness,
touching my soul gently,
deftly,
ensuring my utmost attention
to your every word,
as my world expands and contracts at the same time,
guided by your unseen hand
as it plucks my mind,
stirring my imagination
and my *****.

i greet the morning,
standing tall,
feet firm on the ground,
a slow great breath beginning deep inside,
releasing the dreamscape
as i bow gracefully to the waking sun.
breathe: in, then out,
slow and peaceful as the sun warms my body
and my hands meet the ground,
supporting my body as the blood begins to move
through my hips and into my legs again,
muscles becoming alive through simple movements,
then down and up,
my face worshiping the heavens
as my heart moves towards the sun,
offering the day,
receiving the welcome of the morning in return.

it begins with a single look,
at once beautiful and frightening,
drawing me in,
looking through me to my innermost desires,
sensing them,
knowing me as intimately as possible,
laying bare my soul
before there is even a touch.
and then,
simply,
she leans in, whispering in my ear,
"you are Mine."
and i am.

he stares at me,
silently appraising my every feature,
critical glances along the lines of my body,
looking at every angle,
seeking the nuances of me,
giving me the once-over,
like i am a piece of meat
and he looks for the best cut
at the butcher's shop.
his gaze travels over me,
and i watch his eyes,
staring back at me,
boring into my very being,
until at last i am forced to look away
from the man in the mirror.

"life *****."
"there are good parts."
"like what?"
"like the stars on a clear night."
"can't touch them."
"a puppy's kiss."
"too germy."
"a field of bright flowers."
"allergic to pollen."
"a newborn baby"
"***** all the time."
"love"
"it isn't real."

that's when i left.

she is so many things
in my world
that to list them would fill
the great colosseums
to overflowing.
it is enough to say,
"she is woman"
and be content to not define her,
but let her define herself.

today, the sun shines a little brighter,
the grass is a little more green,
the sky more azure and clear,
the morning sounds of birds more crisp,
the air tastes better,
and life is a little sweeter -
all because it is a new day,
and the scars from yesterday belong in the past.

i stood upon the mountain,
watching the heavy ribbon of rainclouds
lumber slowly,
the breeze dying before them
as they followed the river,
ominous and threatening,
like a billow from a smokestack
in eras gone by.
the promised storm never came,
but a lightly misting rain,
here one moment and gone the next,
kissing the earth with gentle love.
i am reminded that in all things,
life is beautiful.

there's nothing like
being the friend
you always wished for.

awake at night,
i think of calling you,
talking to you,
sharing the thoughts and dreams
that only come when we're too tired
to make sense anymore,
when the outlandish seems plausible,
and what is seems passe and old.
but i know you're asleep,
dreaming your own dreams,
in a world all your own,
and to tear you from that place would be cruel.
so i sit up, alone in the night,
with only my thoughts for company.

standing in the rain,
heavy drops pouring over my body
like so many tears
that have been shed
over pains real and imagined,
now washing away,
cleansing,
sanctifying the earth into which
they disappear,
and in that moment
i find the restful peace
i have been hunting.

her kiss was smooth,
a tender touch,
soft and achingly sweet,
and in her lips she showed me who she was,
all her hopes and dreams,
her fears, too,
as her very being was opened to me
in that lingering moment we first touched lips.

his was precisely the opposite.

i love the smell
of a cool crisp morning,
when the rains have fallen
and the cracks in the pavement
are still wet,
and the trees
wave silently in the gentle breeze,
as the birds flit among the branches.

everyone must be tested,
our words,
our bonds,
our vows,
our fears,
all our limitations must be tested,
to see if we have the strength,
to know our courage,
to believe in the impossible,
and to discover our purest selves.

raw animal passion,
that starts with a simple look
and surges into
palpitating hearts and breathless kisses
that leave you hungry for more -
a tryst where nothing matters
but to be whole with another,
present in every form,
no thought but to connect,
an energy that builds with each fiery kiss
and touch of skin-on-skin,
nothing exists but authentic selves,
reaching out desperately to one another,
and finding home
in the touch,
the gaze,
the feel,
the soul,
of your lover.

the words on the page
looked better in my head.

i come from the land of the nowhere men,
far away from these shores,
a place serene and tranquil,
where a centuries-old peace stands vigil
over tomorrow.
you have known my people,
for we often stray to your borders,
to experience the world, and taste its many wonders.
many are lost to it,
seduced by the lures of decadence and plenty,
where want is cherished and need ignored,
the many made less important than the few,
and words like privilege have meaning only to those who have none.
your world frightens me,
haunts me,
interests me and beckons to my very soul,
and i like to think i always win -
but i don't belong here.
i feel the air of your land, and it sickens me,
fills me with dread and longing for simpler things,
and i know that if i don't leave soon,
i will be crushed by the weights and expectations of it.
i must return home,
to my land,
to nowhere.

i said a prayer once before,
many years ago, when i was foolish,
and i saw the world unfold from a distance,
like the setting of the sun seen in a rear view mirror.
i was powerless,
and though i tried,
there was nothing i could do.
i asked God to take my life that night,
in lieu of hers.
i don't know why we were both spared.
maybe that's what it takes -
maybe we all need a martyr
to lay down their life in lieu of our own,
someone who loves us enough,
who shouts at the oncoming storm,
"TAKE ME AND LET THAT ONE ALONE!"
but i don't know which is worse -
both sides must deal with loss.

i want to feel the supple skin of her legs
as they glide over my nakedness,
trapping me, enticing me with the heat
of her ***,
her face in ecstatic jubilation,
as another's hands caress her ample *****,
knowing her flesh,
and i reach for him,
my mouth wanting, needing to taste
what i have only dreamed about
in the privacy of my bedroom
when the lights are out.
they lean in for a ***** kiss and it pulls him closer,
three becoming one, joined in thrilling
movements,
a fever pitch arises
and we are made whole.

they call it Heaven
because you cannot hear hearts break.

a body lies there,
real enough -but it doesn't represent the man
who changed a thousand lives
with his smile and love.
a man i never met,
but through the effect he had on others,
and they still receive me as family.
what does one say
to a grieving widow and her children?
what does one do when listening
to her crying as her great love lies
in the casket?
Nothing.
There is nothing to do
but join in the grief,
relive stories,
keep the memory alive
of a man i never met.

my head pounds.
thoughts drifting in and out,
forcing themselves upon me,
toying with my emotions
until i imagine things that aren't there,
poisoning my mind
with what ifs -
questions i can never hope of answering.
a torrent,
unceasing barrage against me,
beating and pushing me,
down, down again,
threatening to bury me,
secret me away from the reality,
and i'm tempted to let it win,
stop fighting upstream,
and be carried away to places i have never been....

and the still small voice whispers, "trust."

and the raging waters subside again.

i see behind your eyes,
the vast wonder with which you see the world,
and the pain you mask
because you just don't want to deal with it anymore,
and it runs too deep.
i used to think i could take it away,
carry the weight,
fix it for you,
and heal the wounds of a past i was never there for -
but that is not my task.
mine is only to be there now -
to help you grow,
to catch you if you stumble,
to dry an occasional tear,
and set you on your path again.

the little white basket
with the pink and yellow daisy
bobbles along,
as the streamers on the handlebars
flutter in the wind.
"wheeeeeee!" she cries,
and i am ashamed because i forgot -
it's supposed to be fun.

scene 1:
he enters down left,
looking confident and in charge,
sits down at bar stool up center,
orders a coke,
he is waiting,
sitting where he can see the door.
he sips his drink and concentrates,
fixes his posture,
shoulders back, gut ****** in,
checking his phone to look at the time.
she walks in down left,
looking around,
it's clear they've exchanged photos,
she smiles as their eyes meet,
crosses to up center.

begin.

a face is all i remember,
short blonde hair surrounding a pointed chin,
high cheekbones and wide brown eyes
that could hold a thousand ships in their depths,
and never would any of those ships find each other.
she held my fascination for a time when i was young -
how i would have loved to taste her lips
and looking, become another ship lost in her gaze.

i see them hating,
lie in waiting,
for a chance to mock someone participating
in their own life.

they keep insisting
that their persisting
will somehow help in everyone's existing
through this strife.

they keep judging
others' trudging
but their opinions and beliefs aren't budging
in the least.

they just keep pressing
how you're dressing,
and they still insist on stressing
you're a "beast."

and i keep asking
while they're basking
"how can i truly love them when they are tasking
this world so much?"

i wanna yell until it hurts,
scream at everyone i see
and force them to hear me,
to understand,
what it's like living inside my head,
all these thoughts running around and no way to let them out.