I waited for hours in an office lobby,
Just for them to tell me there was no cure for what I was suffering.
I walked a mile,
In another man’s shoes.
So I walked to  another,
To the next doctor,
Just to be told again, that there was no cure.

Wendy; My shadow is too heavy, can you fix it?
Doctor; Shadows don’t weigh anything.
Wendy; Mine does.
And it’s getting bigger.

I waited again,
Yet still the answer was the same.
That there was no cure,
For the sad music I hear in my ear,
That makes me age hundreds of years.
It makes it seem like my mind is run by rusted gears,
It must be from storing the salt for my tears.

Mother; I thought you were sleeping.
Wendy: I was being sad.
…
Wendy; I’m not always sad.

I didn’t go to another office,
I ran out of ones to walk to.
Running is a concept I never understood,
Why are you always running from, or to?
Why can’t I just run,
Away from nothing, for I have nothing to run from.
To nothing, because I have no more things to run to.

Detective; Can you fly?
Wendy; I could,
I don’t think I can anymore.
Detective; That sounds dangerous.
Wendy; It is.
Was
Detective; What can you tell me about him?

Why can’t they make a medicine,
That makes you forget?
I don’t mean alcohol,
I just asked to forget, not to destroy the place in my mind where the memory was.
Why can’t they make a syrup,
It could taste like peppermint.
That you take at night,
And wake up and forget.

Wendy; I asked you to stay.
Peter; Did you?

I’m listening to a song,
that’s captured my mood.
What’s the singer saying?
If it knew, I’d sing along.
but the slurry words elude.
It’s an artistic choice, I suppose,
and I don’t require deeper meanings.

A squirrel stands defiantly in the middle of the path,
A tiny, furry-tailed, usurper - quite out of the routine.
“Hello fluffy rodent,” I baby-sing, as it watches me,
“What an odd meeting, are you hoping for a feeding?”
I try to pass but it jittery-scampers and cuts me off.
"I have a test, get out of the way, you crazy nut-thief”
I glance at my watch; l might really be late to lab.

So, I leave the path to the possibly rabid rat.
if it comes at me, on-God, I swear I’ll kick it,
launch it ballistically into the evergreen thicket.
How I long for a coffee, hot and sweet,
or a sandwich and salty chips - that would be nice -
but then I would be late for class. I sigh in defeat.
It started to drizzle. This afternoon will be miserable.
.
.
*Songs for this:
Out of Myself by Bebo Best & The Super Lounge Orchestra
Jettin' by Digable Planets
.
Oh, and a Christmas playlist because—it’s December!
https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_15.mp3

Sometimes we are walking down the road
Chatting and discussing the news of late
Minding ourselves when we meet a fellow
Who is traveling in the same direction
Clearly a visitor, he's so awfully out of date
But we walk and talk and bring Him up to speed
He talks to us in words both sacred and profane
Words that harken to our spirits' unity
And speak to our hearts individually
Our hearts burn deep within us
Like an age old song or ancient melody
Something foreign, but pleasantly familiar
What it is, I can't quite recall
Finally, we arrive at our destination
The sun is low and the day is growing old
Our companion makes to keep travelling
"Where are you going? It's late.
Please stay and join us at table".
During the meal He takes the bread
Blesses it and says a prayer
Our eyes are opened, but He isn't there
"That man had to have been our Jesus!
As He spoke, were not our hearts burning?
And when He sat at table, were not our souls yearning?
We clung to His words like dying men
And the awakening when He said Amen!"
But we had been blind to his presence before us
He was there while we were thinking "poor us"
Looking right at Him, still we could not see
Our friend who died upon the hill of Calvary
Open the eyes of our hearts and may we be of one accord
To recognize that, on the road, we were walking with the Lord

can you tell me with your lips how your eyes perceive me?
do you see me as an intricate basket with colorful beads?
done so by ancient hands so expertly weaved?
can you tell me the secrets of the soil that clasps the roots of the trees?
can you tell me all the names and whispers you hear in the breeze?
can you tell me how you always know the ice is thick enough to walk on after the winter's fourth freeze?

can you tell me how your eyes always know how to find me through a drunken crowd?
even through all the smoke from the hundreds of people creating this dust cloud
can you tell me how you always know when I'm saying things out loud?
even when the music is blaring
and the bartenders can't read the words people have mouthed
and say "sorry, if you want a drink you'll need to shout"
can you tell me why you smile when I lean out the window as you drive over and over again circling this roundabout?

Can you tell me how you've always known the tone of my breath and the song of my soul?
Can you tell me why somedays it feels like our first time meeting at a school dance back in the days of old?
Can you see us standing at the table with the snacks and the spiked fruit punch bowl?
Can you see me trying to catch the words of this song in whole? they're playing this new type of music, "have you heard it before? you ask me, they call it rock'n'roll"
Can you tell me you'll walk me home? hold my hand like it's the first time and forget I live just three houses past the big light pole?
Can we keep talking and maybe kiss at the end of this stroll?
"Can you tell me something about you?" I ask because knowing you deeper is a different type of beauty to behold
I smile as you tell me "I always loved when my aunt would make her thanksgiving broccoli and cheddar casserole"

Can you tell me how with you nothing feels like sin
even when your lips trace over every inch of my skin?
Can you tell me how you know to always lift my chin
to look you in the eyes even when the woes wear on me from where I've been?
Can you tell me how you felt about me when you watched me order a cocktail with my favorite gin?
but now Can I tell you how long I've I loved you? it's actually long before I even knew our time together would begin

We walk and we endure, even if
we're beaten and bruised
like the caverns of our hearts
with its dark crevices
that made us lost and confused

Only if we learn to believe in ourselves
we walk again,
out of this dim passage
that blinded us,
and we will see the stars
in the night sky
that we never saw in that cave

People smoking around
Walking down the street
Light in theater beside me
Homeless begging for better

Jazz in nearby cafe
Makes me remember on these days
Of loneliness

People smiling around me
While passing church
Catching the right time
While leave my past behind

Time passing by
See myself in position
Understanding these days
Of losing everything

Everybody deep in their ideas
I know I want resurrection
From my past days

If this is possible...

Walk for it...
Ideal's for sojourn's deed
A promised jewel for your wit
Spare to my eye, wishes will feed...

Mercy, to a quaint dance
Might a problem sit?
I will still kind, of a shared defense
Misery, is remembering when I meant...

Simplicity's swallow...
Of verisimilitude to conceive
All's of a decision, here to hallow
Risks or retinue, waiting is ours to believe

A drive for impression...
Is salt the divine?
A shame has tendered, a care's lesson
A quieter question, that will share haves marital shine?

Profession of a charisma's flower:
Shall we compare ourselves
To awe or wisdom, known a charity for my sighing's lover
That has a voice that gave merit, my name, for what delves...

Once again we walk

in the old track, we're absent --


There is no meeting.