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I had been sober for
awhile and was getting that
itch to drink.
I couldn't recall the
degradation and misery of
the last drunk a few months
earlier.

It was spring, and I was standing
outside of the flophouse, I was
staying at.
Just then, a big sunflower of
a woman walked by.
"Hi Jenny," I said.
We had a past.
Not much of one though.
It resembled a Dali painting that
had been soaking in the rain.

We ended up in a motel with a
bottle of Absinthe.
Jenny wasn't much of a drinker,
No problem, more for me.
Jenny wasn't much of a
conversationalist, and half-lit on
robust *****, neither was I.
I walked around the room talking
about Hemingway and Van Gogh,
Fitzgerald and Picasso.
Jenny wasn't interested in them.
She wanted me to score her some dope.

She said, "If you want this *****, you
will buy me an eight ball."
I didn't.
I wanted to write, but I was too drunk.
We wanted different things and neither
of us
found them that night.
And later at about 3 am when I got
up to ****, I could have sworn I saw the
picture of Van Gogh on the box of Absinthe
laughing.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSKnZMnMlTw
Here's a link to my YouTube channel, where I read poetry from my recently published books, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems and It's Just a Hop, Skip, and a Jump to the Madhouse, both available on Amazon.

www.thomaswcase.com is my website.
 Mar 25 Melissa S
Eric W
A squeal and a giggle,
a flutter and a swish -
the chase is on!

Dodging dandelions,
rolling clover.

A swoosh a whip,
almost!
Not quite!

Over there!
Now over here!

Keeping pace,
keeping wild,
erratic and momentous.

Landing briefly here
then on the nose,
flits away,
chasing butterflies.
Started this back in May after seeing my, at the time, only child chase some butterflies.

Ever have a moment that happens and you know that for whatever reason it’s going to be etched in your mind? This was one of those moments. How lucky to be a relevant memory, not a random one.
 Mar 25 Melissa S
Eric W
You were right
I was different, weird, odd
I grew up poor
My home was broken
As I’m sure yours was too
My first car didn’t come til I was 18 and in college
Paid for by a Pell grant
Alcohol drugs and violence in the home
No father to be seen
A drunk and abusive and mentally ill step dad
Clothes that smelled of cat ****
A working mom stretched too thin but loving all the same
Loved ones lost and mourned

I imagine we had more in common than we realized

I know in some ways you were trying to keep me down
But in some ways you knew that you could never
In the ways that dumb kids can know things without knowing how or why they know them and unable to articulate their truth
I was never meant to stay
You were never going to drag me down
Hard as you might try
Names, hurtful and crushing
Violence when no one saw
Hiding in shadows or in plain sight
Maybe that’s all you wanted was to know
That you could work your way into my mind
15 years later still
Still I search for an explanation
A ******* reason
A ******* apology
Something
Sure I made it out
I moved on
I left
But I still look back and ask
Why

Maybe we were just stupid kids
Maybe I’m the only one that still thinks about all those things

I do know one thing though


You can’t hurt me now
Written a year ago yesterday
We climb the Koro hill.

Forty years and still ascending
gives a good feel.

We stand under a Madhuca tree
blossoming in March heat and rain.

From the hilltop
the valley down below
looks dreamy grey.

We've greyed and graded
past full bloom.

In the wafting fragrance of Madhuca
we pray to hold on
for some more.
Koro hill, March 22, 2025, 2.30 pm
My love and gratitude for my fellow poets and friends for being with me this long 12 years on Hello Poetry.
Is it worth all the worry,
The tension, the cost,
The poor sleep and fatigue,
The happiness lost.

The what if's or maybe,
Will it happen or not,
Worry is wandering,
It never will stop.

So learn to accept,
Your life is a scene,
A chapter, some improv,
On a three dimensional screen.

Those you will love,
And some you will lose,
Each day is a painting,
Worry works as my muse.
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