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Yesterday I found god.
I found her in the garden at the park.
She was evident in the ducks that I watched.
Her name was written all over the puddles that I jumped in.
I heard her as the rain came pouring down.

I found god.
He was in laughter.
In the police that protected downtown.
The couple that kissed in front of a preacher.
I tasted him in my coffee.

Some people don't believe and I get that. I don't always believe. But sometimes, you have days where god is as evident as the skin on your body.
 Jun 2014 Cristina Relange
asg
blue
not
brown
are the colors of your eyes
and
smooth
not
rough
are the contours of your jaw
and
straight
not
crooked
is the bridge of your nose
and
warm
not
cold
are the palms of your hands
so why do I have to repeatedly tell myself
**YOU ARE NOT HIM
 May 2014 Cristina Relange
Vivian
there are two types of girls,
or so I was told:
church girls and
bad girls, and my mother
said this with such finality it was
clear they were mutually exclusive.

of course,
you know this is
Not True;
you once characterized yourself as
"the type of 'church girl' to light a
blunt in the bathroom (just sayin)" and
that single quote says more about you than
all this fragile wording, this silica dust
heated and wrought into intricacies and
metaphor and conceit.
You
are far more than
a bad girl,
are far more than
a church girl,
will never be
my girl
and this is how it should be.
you are not
to be domesticated
a la Robin Thicke; you are
uncontrollable, your lust and
disdain for monogamy
twin hurricanes, destroying
New Orleans in a heartbeat and
rendering FEMA
impotent in the next.

there are two types of girls:
other girls, and
You.
 May 2014 Cristina Relange
RILEY
She approached me
Tiptoeing from across the room,
Although no one was asleep around us to wake;
I watched her lower lip bleed
From biting too much,
As she deciphers the DNA codes on her hair
With her fingertips,
Stroking the life out of it
Up and down-
And up and down again.
She said don’t get me wrong
But I found myself;
I found myself lurking underneath the light of your words
Bending with your o’s and standing straight with your I’s,
Because I
Got lost;
I got lost in the stories you wrote
About the girls who broke
And they felt just like me-
Dazed
By the love poems you cried down for her,
And I wondered how beautiful she must be.
I got flustered
In the blank spaces
That you chose not to write in,
And it felt like I should cut parts of myself
And add them in the vacancies
But I just don’t know what to add.
For every time I rest my soul
On the tip of a pen
I feel like I’ve said too much,
And every time I scratch my words
Throw away my being
Behind
Unread books and dusty light stands
I believe I haven’t said enough
For I could give more,
Be more,
If only I could start over,
And you
You seem to know me more than I know myself;
You have built bridges
Out of my paper shreds,
Tunnels out of my unexpressed thoughts-
You have created your haven inside my brains
And settled down in my heart.
You’ve managed to make me chew your words
Like breakfast
Was a poetic meal to be served
At all times of the day;
You’re an image,
I re-create you in my mind
Before I sleep
After asleep
And even during I sleep-
The thoughts of you never quit my head
Like a gamer would never quit
A game of Warcraft
In the midst of hunting season”
She took off her glasses,
And I could see the marks of them
Being there for too long.
She closes her eyes
As if she was about to take a leap of faith,
But instead she leaped two steps into my arms
And that was when
I got to ask her
What her name was.
And that was when I realized
It didn’t even matter.
my dog lies on the concrete patio
pink belly up
the fresh alabama sun cooking the air
draped solid over us like a wet blanket.

he is not part of my reality
he cares not for tardiness
or three-day-leg-stubble
or cleaning the lint trap.

i ache to be a part of his
pink belly up
only stirring to watch the children
play across the street.
Simple car
simple house
simple clothes
simple blouse

Simple eyes
simple hair
simple lamp
simple chair

But your mind?
Well, that isn't
simple at all.
I don't really like making things rhyme, but I guess it's ok sometimes...
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