advice
wise words
feel much more like
talking down
than heping

We spoke in tongues that day,
Your fingers trailed my body like
a harlot skimming through the bible finding her daily grace.

The Sun, her majesty, jealous of the
nervous heat that fought for a moment of breath between your satin body and my scarred chest.

Did you know that I almost cried?
Because your touch was everything I feared the most.
Your touch was confidence, maybe love.
It hurt.

We don't speak the same language anymore,
For your fingers,
are too holy for mine.

30 minute shower
20 minutes to do my hair,
Endless time at the mirror
To try and catch your stare.

You see me every morning
And you always say hello
I try to hide that nervousness
So my real feelings do not show.

You ask me simple questions
And i fumble to answer back,
Close my eyes , count to ten
Try to get on track.

My friends all think its crazy
How ive never clued you in
They say if i dont speak up
"How will anything begin? "

Im so much more content
Keeping this inside,
What if it went sour ?
I have too much pride.

So ill stand here every morning
And mutter " light and sweet "
And hope that in another life
You and i could meet .

The well groomed professional takes a sip
from his Styrofoam twenty ounce coffee
He glares at me - his eyes green with disgust
the night before I walked beside the moon
that morning I rose anew, born in flames
The well groomed professional takes a sip
from the corner of my eye I see her
standing waves of gold, porcelain smile
I glare at her - my eyes red with my lust
dancing to the flickering glow of bulbs
she pauses, a breath, Red Eye anyone?
The well groomed professional takes a sip
glaring at the mirror - his eyes black with
fear
I take my coffee and walk out the door
adrift in the cold Richmond winter air

"She is so cute!"**
said the grand mother type
in McDonalds today.
"Yes I have heard that said.
Every where we go."

Miss Personality makes
an impression...
on the young and the old.  
Purely unintentional.
Little head strong at times.
Mostly when awake.
She will go far.

Disagreements with Nana
can be fun at times,
'"Lucy! Don't do that! No!"
Can ping pong three times.  
Then must stop.  Or else!

On hearing the verbal
exchange between
the two one day
Gpa asked Miss Lucy,
"What part of 'NO'
do you not understand?"
The reply coming from
Miss Congeniality was an
emphatic "The N."

Gpa left the room.
Laughing held to elsewhere.
Reporting to Nana.

She is cute at times.
Four now...
going on fourteen.
But still cute.

Sweet baby,
split-pea soup.
croissant carbs,
sliced tomato,
onion crisp, and
spinach greens-
ooh avocado,
please!

look out the
kitchen window,
my dog's head in
the compost pit!
"LIBBBBBYY!"
homemade soup on the back-burner

******, scratch it,
there ain't even any
tomatos or onion to
throw on this french
bread!
ohh, but mama,
let's get real,
since when was
there ever any
money for all these
S.Pellegrinos!?

I'm not complaining,
and I know ain't
isn't a word,
but for Christ Sake!
Being home is always
wild.

To sit by the fire,
or to be a free-running
child?

I can't even make lunch
without getting excited,
and documenting my odd
life.

Could have made that Bumble-Bee-
solid white albacore,
or Skippy,
squeeze that Skippy-
it's the skippy you squeeze!
Figured I'd go a little
more home-made today.

How long will it be
'till Mama starts asking
for rent?

All those Doctor bills,
wild insurance-
you slay me!
Mental health,
Hunterdon and Rutland,
you really did me deep.
And to keep paying those
Doctor's with those degrees,
sheesh!

Rode my bike to the TDBank,
to take out the last of what I
had, for Mama.
Talk about hell on two wheels!

So now my choices can be narrowed-
Do I hit the restaurants and do
the night shifts, waitressing in
that filthy grease?
Do I get a portfolio and try to model,
without Mama's approval?
I sure do have one impressive
resume, but this state wants to
take my license away.

My student loans are
in over my head, here
at least there's a futon
and a warm bed.
Chicago means an air mattress and
Vegas screams something I can't really
be too sure about.

I guess it's true, home
is where the heart is.
Home is where my toes
are warm and where my lunch date,
Libby, never leaves my side.

This U-turn situation,
it's not so bad. Yeah, sure,
I was supposed to be in Utah,
canyoneering. And this New Year's,
I would have, should be, could have been
backpacking through Nepal-
a dream.
Sometime I just get a little sad.

So I'll read some books,
watch some films,
give Libby her beef-flavored
pain-killer pills,
and pray for a pretty little
white-christmas miracle.

The time for brooding is over
Let them say I invented the stars
when they were born
That I weaved the fabric of the universe
while I remained awake at night
Let them see that I'm no longer suffering

For tears are no more than mist
And my irises are the color of laughter
Laughter which I crafted from sunlight
So they can say that I breathe tempests
And spring's flower petals float in my bloodstream
Let them see I'm more than what I was

For the sky is the face of unraveled smiles
Where masks are shattered shards
And truth is blatant on heaven's eye
Now they can say I am true
That I am in every blade of grass
And every pebble on the riverbed

So now let them say what they want
For they can see
I have been my own nightmares
Just as now I am my own dreams.

Sweetheart, come to bed.
the demons that you hoard are bending the curves of your spin;
I can see them pulling at every muscle tucked beneath your skin.
You pop and you crack and it vibrates against the walls.
I shutter at the sound
the sickening, awful sound.

Sometimes I wonder if you believe in the miracles
that fall between my pelvis,
or the heavy breath I breathe between parted lips.
Are my bones strong enough to save you?

Sweetheart, come to bed.
Your cautious footsteps are creeping back and forth,
up and down,
heavy footed across the ragged carpet.
I hear them every night aching so unholy,
from underneath my bed sheets.
You swear you're next to me asleep.
I hear them though you swear you've been asleep.

Most times I want to believe in the miracles,
I have promised you between night and day
and the soft lipstick stains I've left lingering lightly on every inch of skin
you've left so vulnerable to my kiss.
I wonder if its saving that you need.
Sweetheart, come to bed.