Painting shades of intimacy
On a blank, white canvas.
Imagining vast landscapes of emotion
On an artist trading card panel.
Sweeps of technicolor with a broad brush
In a fine-line, black and white portrait.

In the midst of your hurricane,
Look me in my eye
For calm waters.
Drop your anchor.
Rest your prow on my shores
Choppy waters, no more
Waves of discontent, stilled.

We ride this storm together,
No matter where the winds blow us.

Tripped up, halting words
Of unspoke feelings, unsure,
Deaf, snoring, unheard.

I hold my doll,
Fluttering eyelashes
Curly black hair
Cewpie face
Francie I think her name was.

Hold up in my room
Tender age of three or thereabouts
Sense of terror
Vastly blown out of proportion
To my chronological age

Cover Francie’s ears
As sounds of rage and terror blast
From the living room.
Crouched behind my bedroom door,
Father in a drunken state
Railing at Mother again.

More than a score of years later,
Who knew the pickled apple
Wouldn’t fall far from the tree?

You wonder why you can’t crack
The combination lock to my heart.
You wonder why you can’t steal
The treasures safeguarded inside.

You see me through the hazy fog,
And you reach for me.
But your hand passes through the mist,
Holding onto nothing.
And as fast as I come, I’m gone.

I’m a nomad.
I live off the land.
I change with the hour,
Switching directions without warning.
Forever a wanderer.

HANGING WITH THE GALLO(W) BROS.

Coked out
Strung out
Flipped out
Had my share of friends
Blow their brains out

But still I went back out
And hung out with the Gallo brothers
And the drunks and the druggies and the homeless and the insane
Downtown at two in the morning.

Little did I know,
The Gallo Brothers were leading me to the gallows
Dead woman walking
Hanging out with them,
I was killing myself slowly
Too cowardly to flat out pull the trigger and get it done with,
I just squeezed it a bit
With two, three, four visits a day
From the dynamic dastardly duo.

Sometimes we hung out at Sutter Home
I remember the plastic thunk of bottles
In my purse on the way there.
The glass-laden Gallo Brothers sometimes made a bit too much noise
When stealth was called for,
So no one else would catch on to what I was doing.
So no one would catch onto the feelings I tried burying,
The demons I tried to drown,
Who were squeezing the life out of me
Feeling horrible, unworthy
Always going back on my misery.

Tremors, delirious
Delirium tremens
So shaking I can’t even double-fist
A single can of soda
I reached for the only help I’ll accept
I grabbed on tight to their hands
Even though my body turned it down
Rejecting, ejecting
Spewing, spitting their help
Back in their faces

“I wish I knew how to quit you”
My body told them

But the Brothers were a violent lot
Beating me into submission
When my mind was under their influence
Sometimes I’d do the craziest ****
For friends who didn’t know better,
Didn’t have my best interests at heart
Were -bent on my personal destruction.
Talk about peer pressure!
Doing, saying things I normally wouldn’t!
They made me go against the grain of everything decent and good about me.

Some friends just aren’t worth having
I learned that lesson the hard way
Cutting ties with the Gallo Brothers...
The hardest thing I ever did!
But... the only way to keep Dead Woman Walking
From becoming Dead Woman Hanging around
at the morgue instead of the Gallo Brothers’ house.

I. Shining Armor

To all those would-be knights in shining armore:
Make sure you have a goodly supply of silver polish on your person
Because this woman is sick and tired
Of all the tarnish she keeps running into.

Really.

Fakeness gets real old, real quick.

I ‘m looking for a man with manners, grace, respect and class.
Not someone who’ll ultimately turn out to be an ***.
I’m not looking for too much I think.
In fact, I’d given up looking at all
Because the lot of them weren’t worth the flesh
God poured their sorry souls into.

Then, you came along,
Swept me off my feet with your Leo hurricane-force personality.
Fire sign burning through my resolves and inhibitions
Until there was nothing left
But trembling and desires and hidden fantasies

But I thought I saw something behind that solid wall of sexuality
A dark knight in shining armor
Intelligence in every timbered vibration fo your baritone voice,
Smooth like Barry white,
****, I thought, you are the whole package!
Family man, gentleman, talented artistic man
Man who said women were to be respected
As they were God’s gift.

How many men, afterall, would walk you to the bus,
Stand in front of you
So the sun didn’t glare in your face, facing west.
A glowing halo surrounded your head.
My angel, mon amour
My knight in shining armor.


II. Tarnish

Fast forward to today.
Man up,
Or move on out of my life.
I’ve waited a long time
For someone with manners, grace, respect, and class.
I’m not going to waste my time
Waiting on as ***.
Not that you’ve been one, mon amour,
But I’m starting to see a little tarnish on your shining armor.

I try to be up front,
Give you the 411 on what’s going on
Is it too much to expect no less out of a relationship?
Honesty, communication
Lay everything on the line so no misunderstandings.
Maybe I’m setting myself up,
Blinded by the shine of your armor
And your promises spoken.
Soothed, hypnotized by the timbered vibration of your baritone voice.
Smooth like Barry White.
Okay, one more time, I will trust you.
On your knight’s honor,
My knight in slightly tarnished armor.


III. Tinfoil

I’m looking for a man
With manners, grace, respect, and class
Not someone who’ll ultimately turn out to be an ***,
And you crossed that line.
The shine is gone,
And no amount of silver polish is gonna wipe clean your tarnish.

You see, there are two things I hold sacred in relationships:
Honesty and keeping promises,
Both of which you failed miserably at as a man.
Yeah I set myself up for a fall as well,
Expecting no less than what I put in myself.

But what good is being together
If you’re the only one putting for any effort.
A relationship is supposed to be give and take.
Not giving and giving and giving and giving
And getting nothing in return
But a bad player’s broken promises
And a broken heart.

Gum stuck on the bottom of my shoe
Has more integrity than you do.
You lied to me.
You put things off.
I would’ve had more respect for you
If you gave me straight talk about flings
Or things like “This isn’t working out”
Instead of sweet talk that left a bad aftertaste in my mouth like saccharin.
The only part of you that ever told me the truth
Was more than happy to stand at attention
And speak volumes
Without saying a word.

And speaking of “not speaking,”
You know what really takes the cake?
You didn’t even have the mother-******* *****
To tell me yourself.
I had to find out from someone else.

Some say more shall be revealed.
Boy, were my eyes opened to the fact
That sometimes a knight in shinign armor
Is sometimes just a ****** wrapped in tinfoil.

So, to all those would-be knights in shining armore:
Make sure you have a goodly supply of silver polish on your person
Because this woman is sick and tired
Of all the tarnish she keeps running into.

Really.

Fakeness gets real old, real quick.


IV. Press Seven**

Seven.
Seven is my lucky number.
It helped me to slam the door on your sorry ***
And a chapter in my life I don’t care to re-read.

How dare you
Call up one day out of the blue
And drop a message on my voicemail.
The second I heard “Hi,  it’s (insert name here)”
DELETE!
Seven dumped your *** faster than you dumped mine
Through a third-party representative.

I don’t want to hear any “Hi, How ya doin’s”
I don’t want to hear any reasons
Or excuses
Or glossing-overs of what you did.

I wasn’t kidding when I said
Fakeness gets real old, real quick,
And that goes for ***** like you.
I may be a big woman,
But I’m not the Big Easy.
I’m a woman of respect
And dignity.

So don’t bother e-mailing me.
Don’t bother calling me.
Delete me out of your rolodex
And go trolling down Fourth Street
If you want nothing but ***.

****!
Never did pressing 7 to delete you
Feel so ****** good.