..and anyway
One morning long ago I looked across the Morecambe bay
To see the tide roll in.
It seemed the sea was on skis that day
It came in so quick
Perhaps an optical trick
Or not.

"Lost soles"    
Read the tree

That was hanging
With shoes

Maybe it is our feet that lead us
We all do get lost

Seduced by Debussy
In music I lose me
When notes float on staves
Rolling in with the waves
Of pure sound.
The music around me surrounds me
Enraptures and captures my heart.

Arabesque,clair de lune take me off to the moon
And again I'm in rapture
Trapped in the capture of music.

I need you
To tell me it’s okay. I’m allergic to hay and scarecrows do their job.
Get me high, cheer me up. Let’s go on a trip.
Show me around munchkin town and their residents might lead us to the wizard. We might get stuck in a blizzard but I’ll refuse to let that cold, white powder outshine my shoes. See, I’m done with the blues. You can tickle my sore, ruby red feet. Force out of me a fluttering laugh. We’ll go somewhere over the rainbow and back. Sing me a song and I’ll try to follow along
This yellow brick road.
Pass up each rest stop but you can take me to gift shops. You can buy me a stuffed lion. Unless you’d rather the zoo. I did always need a little spontaneity to live courageously.
But who cares?
I do. Because if I only had a brain, I’d think to grease up my tin friend and give him my… a heart.
There’s a start!
I don’t wanna stop this groove in my heart… I mean… my ruby shoes, but life isn’t all emerald castles, chimney tops, and lemon drops. Over the rainbow there is no *** of gold and behind the green curtain there’s no all-seeing wizard.
Only a selfish leprechaun who sees no further than his own lashes.

So beautifully designed
Everything perfectly placed
Call her my angel because she never fails me
Revealed to me the truths behind strength
And the beauty that comes along with struggle
Her touch is so gentle and her voice so sweet
It prides me to hear them call her little me
I laugh at the thought of me raising her
When I think about it, we are raising each other
For her it's about rights and wrongs,manners, colors, and these funny thing we call letters
But unknowingly she rises each morning, right with the sun
Teaching me that life isn't always about selfish reckless fun
That there is so much more to life...
How to love someone more than anything in this world...
To learn to put your self second because she will always come first...
That each day there is something amazing to discover...
Seeing the world through the eyes of a child is what she taught me...
Along with teaching me the mentality of being a mommy.

A closed book
lying on your bed
deem it an adventure?
as you open the first page,
crease the middle,
fall into her seductive introduction?
or do you feel trapped,
stuck,
disturbed by how much further
you have left to discover.
dissapointed she wasnt
lying there, split open,
only a little bit left to finish,
another check on your list.
dejected she wasnt the typical
spark-note woman
who cuts to the chase?
or do you praise her detail,
her structure?
her beautiful expressions
or appreciate her chapters?
enticed to keep reading
but pace to savor the journey
of a story selected
for your eyes only?

Coffee and cigarettes. Barbecues and ball games
An unordinary lifestyle. Is this the aim?

Doing 9 to 5's and friday nights with friends
Eating, being merry, drinking away weekends.

Routine is good. Routine is healthy.
This is the right thing. This is becoming wealthy.

Financial success. A roof over our head.
Three well balanced meals and an inviting bed.

A partner to care for and who cares for you.
So grow up, you dreamer. Get over your post grad blues.

Most days I wear flip-flops because I am too lazy to wear socks,
and I like the feeling of summer somewhere close to me,
and I like to watch my feet move. Do you know, there
are so many small little bones in there! it amazes me.

My mom used to massage my feet to wake me up.
She's been the best foot-massager of all, better than all the friends
and the boyfriends. Better than the early morning
sleepy-satisfying stretches, better than the feeling of sunlit
warm wood on my bare feet. Better than grass. Her calloused hands,
and softly hummed melodies. Tattooed arms, faded turquoise. Sun on her
skin. If I could see my mom in myself every time I looked in the mirror
I think I would be relaxed. I would play more music. I would spend
my next paycheck taking a day off with a pina colada and
tattooing a turtle, on my foot, just like hers.

Flexing my feet. Cold night air. Flip-flopping on the concrete. I wish
I could dive into the ocean, ice-cold, something worth laughing into
the nighttime. So much seriousness all the time, I think that people
need to eat more butter and not take skin to mean so much.

Silly, really, I guess. But a Mom-massage might just mean the world
sometimes. And smiling with someone is like a Mom-massage, right when I need it most.
To everyone who's been there, thank you.