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“22½ euros for a Martini,” Peter remarked, when he first scanned the menu.
“It’s not like we aren’t going to get them,” I said, “we’re not going to cheap our way to abstinence." The waiter came and I gave him my card, “Put that table on this card too, please,” (pointing to Charles’s table).

It’s a cool night in Paris and doof-doof music’s slammin’ from a stack of Mackie DJs. It’s about 53°f, but they have those umbrella heaters at every table and other heaters that blew warmer air on the dance floor (maybe not a great idea). Peter and I have a table on the terrace, out under a muted, light polluted starfield.

We danced, we debated the issues of the day, like, when will Taylor dump Kelcie and what were the best Oscar movies? (We chose ‘Poor Things’ and ‘Past Lives’). We ate Steak au Poivre with Red Wine Sauce and then we danced some more. We were having fun.

But when a party turns into ***** mayhem it’s time to leave - or is it? Watching the shadowy edges of things, I asked Peter, “It’s getting CrAzY, wanna go?”
“It’s just getting interesting,” he answered.
I squinted at him, was he serious? I couldn’t tell - martinis scramble my amygdala.
I decided to flow with it. “Ok, freak, get me another then.” I said, calling his bluff, and sliding my glass his way.
As he left for the bar, I glanced at my watch, 2am. It felt like 10 pm to us American east-coasters.

I looked around and Charles and Chinthia (Mrs.Charles) were laughing and chatting away.
‘You GO, old people,’ I thought - not unkindly.
Peter came back, two martinis in one hand, snapping pics with the other.
“Stop!” I barked, holding my hands up like I was fighting off paparazzi, “stop!”
I’ve learned things, like how, in early pics, when we arrive at a party, I look like Mary Poppins - but in end-of-party pix l look like Norma Desmond. Peter doesn’t see it  - but I do.

I sipped at my new drink - It tasted sour and bitter as sin - I made a face. Peter cackled like a villain in a low budget flick. “It’s a Winston Churchill,” he reported knowingly, “they were out of vermouth.”

When the bar runs out of vermouth, it means something. I pressed the walkie-talkie app on my watch and asked Charles, “You guys ready to go?” He didn’t look around but gave me a thumbs-up just before they rose.

My mom and (step)dad have joined us, at Grandmère’s, for this vacation. I was gleeful, at first, but it’s like my mom hasn’t noticed I’m not in high school anymore - that I grew-up in their three-year absence. I get pressed when she thinks I’m slouching, rearranged when my hair’s out of place and shown a pained, icy face if I order a martini.

She’s piercing the membrane of my privacy and expecting obeisance! I tried to explain it, like an adult. “There are multiple value systems,” I gently reminded her. My Grandmère even suggested Peter move into his own room. Luckily, Peter and my rooms adjoin and she put my parents on another floor (in the suite she grew up in).

I’m secretly afraid they’ll be up when we get in, that it’s 10pm for them too and I’ll get ‘the face.’ I told Charles about my situation and he said, “Look, she’s missed you, she’s just lavishing you with attention, she’ll relax,” but his oceanic optimism seems.. hopeful. We’ll see ??
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Obeisance: an acknowledgement of another’s superiority.

doof-doof = a type of ‘HardTrance’ music
Mackie DJs = a favorite brand of speakers used by party DJs

our cast
My Grandmère = grandmother (in French)

Peter, my bf, a physicist who works at CERN, in Geneva. His job’s to break things and see what happens. We’ve been ‘together’ for about 2 years - I use ‘together’ loosely because, well, Geneva and New Haven.

Step (Stepfather) is an invasive cardiologist, he and my mom have been married for eleven years. He’s my dad v2.0

My mom is an anesthesiologist - they tend to be perfectionists. She has three children - one is a surgeon (my sister Annick), one is in med-school (my brother Brice) and then there’s me - the weak link - she’s heavily ‘invested’ in my absolute everything.

Charles and Chinthia - Charles, a retired NYC cop, is my long time escort, driver and surrogate parent. Cynthia, his wife of six years, (also an ex-cop) is a VP for a cyber-security company.

Norma Desmond = faded star in “Sunset Boulevard' (a must see movie)
Wednesday was your least favorite day and you died on a Wednesday.
After living for sixty-four years, you became sick and you passed away.
The eleventh anniversary of your death is on your least favorite day of the week.
I thought things were fine at first but then I learned that your situation was bleak.
When you went to the hospital, you had to go under the knife.
The surgeon tried his very best but he could not save your life.
He operated on your stomach and your leg had to be amputated.
But you still died and when I found you dead, I was devastated.
When I learned you were terminal, it was hard to understand it.
Rest in Peace, Mom, you were the greatest mother on the planet.
DEDICATED TO AGNES JOHNSON (1948-2013) WHO PASSED AWAY 11 YEARS AGO TODAY ON MARCH 6, 2013.
Jellyfish Mar 6
These are confessions I can never send.
Because they blatantly won't understand
and that is something I need to get,
They don't care for me enough to accept the ways they hurt me and say sorry.

They are hypocrites,
Because they want me to stay weary.
They want me to always let go and cry alone.
They don't care if around them I'm woeful.

Mom,
You always said I was in the wrong,
Cleaning and chores were our only "bond"
You never chose me unless you could brag.

Dad,
You broke my heart,
You'd catch me when I'd fall
But never stuck up for me in the end.  

Mom chooses to make me a villain,
All I wanted was her acceptance
but she sees me as a sinner who's selfish,
I should put my pain aside and pretend I'm good.

I will be left to wonder forever,
Why my pain doesn't matter
In comparison to my sister,
Why am I less accepted when I'm in pain?

Dad loves me because he sees himself in me.
I look like him, we share a hobby
but growing up I believed that was the only thing he loved about me
Because one moment he'd be there, but would runaway when I needed him most.

Alone, he would listen,
He would say he'd help me
But in front my mom he was different.
Suddenly, what we said in the car was insignificant.

I'm an adult who doesn't know her needs, wants, and likes
Because I spent my life trying to be accepted.
No one taught me how to accept myself,
Or how to know what I need or want.

If someone cared unconditionally,
I clinged to them.
I hoped they'd never leave,
because I never got that from my family.

Now I'm in therapy, crying in every session
That I'm hurt again because of them,
Or hurt by myself because
I don't know who I am.
AE Mar 5
I twist this discomfort between my fingers thinking of how to find the places I would be holding onto maps of all my searches
If I was in this world, by myself
where would I be but under the weight of it all?
Sinking into loss, folding all these thoughts and packing them away
trying to pinpoint the moments
in which I could define love
The falsehood of this bravery
grasps onto my steps, forwards and backwards
I keep walking in the same spot
sitting among moments and memories
and everything I've yet to define
knowing, however, that I recognise love
and everything it is
since the moment I could breathe
it's been in the spaces between my mother's fingers
waiting for me
Louis Segoe Mar 4
Staying awake with just you to chill
Opening your eyes and just see the blanket
My heart is so naked cause nothing inside
Just my mom is on my side

Nowadays Love is something terrible
Just it's hookup or if not break-up
How to know with who where or when
Just my mom is on my side

As usual in morning the new day rises
Girls are about to wake and start shinning
The boys are texting the love SMS
And a girl respond every single one.

A boy's side hustle makes girl beautiful
A girl shines and call me without grammar
The new fool keep following a goldylook
Just her mom knows the truth.

The winter never stop coming.
My tea is served after asking her nonsense
My saves is spent for evening dinner
In the next morning my mom lost a bus bill.

Fool fool fool I call it those in bridges
My love story ends when my wallet do so
My love story reborn as I get to hit a bank
And my mom begs for cents.

Restaurants know how to serve
Jewellery shops are just advertisement
Girls know how to serve and advertise
And my mom is waiting for my cash.

Dog crys when boss do so
Boys cry when a girl turns back from room
Girls cry when a boy hit them
But my mom cries for having wicked generation boy.
Always boy run not on girls but what they hold and the girls do it so vice versa.
Jellyfish Mar 3
I'm anxious,
You called and said you want to meet
A few hours away,
With her and me.

You know about the drama,
The way I feel about things
I'm sure she's said more
But which will you believe?
Repost:
~~~~~~~~~~
For me from my love for our children lala, sassy, coco:
I heat up, I can't cool down
You got me spinning
'Round and 'round
'Round and 'round and 'round it goes
Where it stops nobody knows
Every time you our darling kids call my name "Mom" Angel Mom"
every time I Mom you call
you sweetie pies lalasassicoco " P. a. t. r. k." papa too comes to mind.

Your names up high in the sky" Scarlet Letter " A" is seen A for Angel.. ine.
My rkrdd, heat up like a burning flame
Burning flame full of desire
Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher
Abra abracadabra
I wanna reach out and grab ya
Abra abracadabra
Abracadabra
You make me hot, you make me sigh
You make me laugh, you make me cry
Keep me burning for your love
With the touch of a velvet glove
Abra abracadabra
I wanna reach out and grab ya
Abra abracadabra
Abracadabra
I feel the magic in your caress
I feel magic when I touch your dress
Silk and satin, leather and lace
Black ******* with an angel's face
I see magic in your eyes
I hear the magic in your sighs
Just when I think I'm gonna get away
I hear those words that you always say
Abra abracadabra
I wanna reach out and grab ya
Abra abracadabra
Abracadabra
Every time you call my name
I heat up like a burning flame
Burning flame full of desire
Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher
Yeah, yeah
I heat up, I can't cool down
My situation goes 'round and 'round.
"Here I am, send me an Angel" to lay me down on a greenest grass,
In memory of his velvet canon
caressing my cheek
igniting those forest fires that forever burn
~~
By: Steven Haworth Miller.
https://youtu.be/ynaDdmoPOpU?si=siXjTZvCpekmT0tC
Cat Feb 26
I’m jealous of you.

You had more time,
More opportunities,
More time to be a kid,
And more time with your mom.
You won’t have to bury her
When you’re 23
Or plan her funeral.
You get to live life for yourself, uninterrupted;
Without the burden of trying to hold together your family.
Im happy you won’t experience this,
For a long while.
And while I don’t want to be,

I’m still jealous.
Looking in the rearview mirror
To a simpler time and place

Everything much clearer
A smile on every face

Peace, love and Innocence
So safe in mother's arms

A time when every thought made sense
Sheltered from the harm

Looking up each day
My vision filtered child

Buried life, now packed away
Once lived, recorded, filed
Some days I miss my youth.
B Feb 17
Lost childhood
a shattered snow globe on the floor
enchanting glitter and broken glass,
swirling in a mass, I find no cure.
Swept up the shards
that faintly jingled while being discarded
cut myself cleaning the mess
and it scarred
a surface of me that must stay hardened.

So independent
I can live on my own
don't know what's best
but it's better unknown.
I am shaped the way you had me sculpted
I've got a sharpness deep inside
here's the woman that has resulted
from a young girl's need to hide.

Mom
I brought a portrait photo of you
with me to art class
the teacher said
I looked just the same
everyone always told me I was like my dad
I was so happy to be beautiful, that day.

and I know you've said you don't understand poetry
so I'll say it easy
I love you so much
I hope you don't hate me
for what I used to be.
Forgive the broken snow globes
I have already forgiven the memories.
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