Sometimes you just gotta laugh the situations Life puts you in
Standing there stuck in the train, jammed in with all the others
'Cos the previous train had been cancelled
And now the crowd was too big to get a seat sitting down
I'm pushed up behind the back of this young girl's head
She has a pigtail or what was formerly a pigtail
It's been cut rather abruptly, truncated prematurely and then tied off
So that what's left of it now sticks out directly from the back of her head
And it's stuck right into my nose,
And of course, she's speaking to someone in front of her
And she's nodding her head up and down as if acknowledging
   her friend's words
And sometimes she shakes her head the other way
As if acknowledging her friend's negative feelings as well
So she's going Yes...yes....yes! up and down
And No...no...no! the other way
And my poor nose is being mercilessly swished up and down, back and forth, all over the place
It feels like a shoe being shined or a car in a car wash
And it's tickling me something terrible
And I'm there desperately wiggling my nose
Trying to avert an itch or a sneeze coming on
And secretly hoping no one is watching this
Because I think I'd look real foolish if they are,
And I'm also thinking to myself "I know I could do with a bit more human contact/ intimacy in my life
But this... this is ridiculous,
And then I start thinking of this Site and all the lovely tender intimate poems I've read
Those lovely hugs and kisses, sweet cuddles and caresses
Those warm embraces and even warmer entanglements
And I'm thinking " Well that's just typical isn't it, others get all those lovely things
While I get something... something weird like this.
But then y'know after the first feelings of awkwardness and discomfort have worn off I start thinking
"But it is rather funny though" and then "actually it's probably the highlight of my day"
Gradually I find myself warming to this little pigtail
She's blonde (another blonde) like some lovely Swedish thing
With my nose buried in her, I get her scent, her sweet perfume
I breathe her in deeply
Then I find myself getting a little aroused
And I find myself almost talking to her, giving her a personality
"You mischevious little Pixie, you flirtatious little Trixie
You like to see me suffer don't you, the way you hit me back and forth
Baby you're so vile, but hey! I like your smile
Come on! Hit me again harder!
I'll never submit to you, you'll never rule me"
I could almost see her, some cold ice Lady wrapped in furs brandishing her whip
But then suddenly it's like I hear this...this little reply coming back at me
I think I'm starting to hallucinate
It says "Feel my scent, it's heaven sent. Here let me warm you up a little"
As again I feel the whoosh of her whip
"You *****! you *****!! I say defiant
"Hey there Serious Boy" she says, "afraid to be seen talking with me.
O! what'll they think, what'll they say Oooo Whooo!
Who cares, who gives a **** what they  think
It's just me and you here now, just the two of us
What about it Serious Boy, what do you say
Won't you come out and play, come out and dance with me
O! you're so buttoned up
Come out and laugh and be silly with me
O! drench me in lovely laughter and wonderful silliness
Big man in Poet land
Wanna hear some of my poetry
" The secret of the sun
   It's written on my ***
   Wanna see my secret ***'?"
"That's bad poetry" I say
Ignoring me she continues
"Through my eyes the door to adventure lies
Hey Boy! Let it swing, don't hold it in
Just let it dangle, dangle like an obtuse triangle"
I had to smile, "I like it Baby, your poetry, it really... really speaks to me"
And then she looks deep into my eyes
"I bet your magic wand, it's like James Bond"
She has me smiling and laughing to myself, she's so...so too much
And I'm totally lost in this, our magical converse
But then suddenly...suddenly the world, it interrupts, our train it stops,
Some people get off, then she reaches down to get her bag
She starts to leave, to move toward the door
"But you can't go, we were just getting acquainted, we were just getting to know one another"
And it's like she gives me this one last wistful smile
And then she's gone, heading off down the platform
I was gonna go after her, follow her out onto the street
But I knew her owner, she'd probably soon start to twig
She'd turn and accost me "You're following me, aren't you, why are you following me ?"
And I'd say "I'm not following you, I...I'm following Her behind you. Back, back in the train we...we"
Then she'd start to scream "Stalker! ******!" and then I'd be grabbed, set upon
The police would be called and I'd be hauled off, dragged before some Court
Some Judge, he'd be looking down at me sternly, "What do you have to say for yourself ?  How do you plead ?"
And all I'd be able to say would be "Lack of fun, your Honour, lack of silliness, lack of... warmth in my life
My seriousness and indecision, their slowly killing me, like a tight gripping ivy
Their strangling all the joy out of my life
How do I plead ? Loneliness, I guess, loneliness in the first degree".

And y'know I still look for her in crowds and in trains, my little blonde Miss Pigtail, I'd know her anywhere.
And I still remember that day we had together and all the fun we had on the train.

first step

when he looks at a woman he searches for qualities that attract him because he wants to desire her yet this tendency creates an imbalance or disadvantage he is rendered weak to a woman’s beauty or whatever traits he idealizes self-realizing this propensity he looks away from women years of disappointment neglect change him he becomes afraid of women gynophobic

2

when she looks at a man she searches for qualities she is critical of because she wants to be impervious to his power she is suspicious of all men their upper body strength penchant to be in control misperception of women as property misogyny emotional immaturity neediness to be mommyed selfishness insensitivity or over-sensitivity depending she wants to be treated with equal respect a loving nurturing relationship she is suspicious of all people their alternate realities passive aggressive behavior co-dependence craziness

3

he sees her then looks away she suspiciously notices nothing happens they go back to their separate homes alone always home alone grown calm in resignation yet disbelieving of this destiny saddened by this fate both worry about future she looks at her face naked body in mirror her stomach churns feels sad sickening remembers time when she was more carefree he puts one foot in front of other then walks tries to remember who taught him to walk how many times did he fall who taught him to laugh where did his sense of humor go

4

he sees her thinks she is lovely resists the urge to turn away he smiles says hello she notices nervously smiles her shaky voice articulates louder than a whisper hi

Tucson 2-step

they are standing in line at a café on 4th avenue he is directly behind her she is lanky wearing white background faded colors patterned summer dress thin straps over bare shoulders long brown hair few gray strands small unfinished tattoo on left calf leather slip-ons 1 inch heals he is at a complete loss for words thinks to make remark about the weather decides not to overhead fan stirs hot humid July air barista girl asks what she would like her eyes scan blackboard menu behind counter she hesitates remarks help him i need an extra moment to decide he steps up to counter money in hand orders small to go Arnold Palmer half black current lays $3 on counter mentions change goes in tip jar thank you barista girl moves fast he lifts cup from counter glances at woman still deciding then at barista girl says have a wonderful day turns walks out door dawns on him woman grows hair under her arms his 2nd most compelling female physique adornment fetish oh god he thinks to himself should i wait for her to make up her mind then approach try to craft conversation at least find out her name no i’m too weak in this moment she is so lovely let her go

2

she orders double Americana in small cup to go room for soy milk thinks to herself he did greet her perhaps their paths will cross on street why did he run off so fast she glances toward front of café notices window seat changes her mind instructs barista ******* 2nd thought make it for here digs through purse realizes she left wallet in truck explains to barista girl she needs to run out to her vehicle to retrieve wallet forgotten under front seat the air on the street is heavy dense she smells her own perspiration looks north then south does not see him walks to truck feels exhausted appetiteless almost nauseous wishes she did not order a drink thinks to get behind wheel drive home go to sleep

Tucson 3-step tango

she feels disappointment by her recent writings as if she is reaching a more sophisticated audience and setting a higher standard for her work yet she is not living up to her ambitions her recent writings smell of her past writings too emotional the damaged woman wounded child she wants to write more introspectively with detached humor that only comes from keener intelligence she slams her laptop shut decides to go to Club Congress for a ****** mary or margarita but Club Congress is haunted with small town cretins losers wannabes she considers Maynard’s decides Maynard’s is too safe suburban yuppyish finally gives in to thought of glass of pinot noir at Plush next comes what to wear jeans in mid-July desert heat is unacceptable perhaps loose fitting thin cotton white summer dress thin leather belt ankle high indian moccasins hair in ponytail no pigtail braids no ponytail no makeup maybe little ylang ylang oil no she thinks about her recent writings

2

i am one breath away from crying in every moment one breath away from flying m.i.a. in every moment one breath away from destroying everything there is beauty in ugliness beauty in decrepitude disease beauty in harm hurt suffering beauty in greed injustice betrayal beauty in corruption contamination pollution beauty in hate cruelty ignorance beauty in death we spend our whole lives searching for a good death we spend our whole lives searching for eternal love this modern world is too much for me over my head the horrors of this place are beyond words unspeakable voice inside maybe mom yells quit your whining or dad hollers stop complaining i am trying to smile through tears one breath away from giving in one breath away from becoming stranger to myself winter spring winter spring there is beauty in nothingness we spend our whole lives searching for ourselves learning who we are not finding grasping secrets from dark paths light trails winter spring winter spring i am one breath away

3

she sits alone at bar at Plush glass of pinot noir glass of ice water in front of her 2 bearded older men eye her from other end of bar she ignores them glances at her wristwatch tries to look like she is waiting for someone music from speakers antiquated rock standard it is early friday hours from dusk moderate middle aged crowd mingle wait for local jazz trio to begin she thinks about her recent writings wonders is it too late for love considers lesbian affair from 5 different perspectives 5 woman’s voices each describing same lesbian affair in 5 opposing accounts hmmm she sips dark red wine from glass chases it with ice water she considers a story about a gang of female bikers who ride south to Mexico

4

the Americans came through here last night crossing border illegally climbing over our fences digging tunnels beneath our barrier walls littering along their trail they travel in packs of every skin color carry guns knives explosives wear leather boots some are shirtless tattoos dyed hair mischievously smiling conceitedly stealing when in question murdering they rob our homes slaughter our chickens ransack gardens loot our harvest you can still smell the stink of their fast food breaths

5

she swallows the last dark red wine from glass chases it with ice water local jazz trio begins to play as bar fills with more people she decides to walk home one foot in front of other wonders who taught her how to walk how many times did she fall she laughs to herself

Tucson square dance

TPD 10-18 unconfirmed data report

7 post-University of Arizona female graduates go to Cactus Moon for several drinks and dancing then drive to Bashful Bandit for more drinks and dancing 2 women get into scuffle victim Brittany Garner female 23 years of age race #5 (Native American, Eskimo, Middle -Eastern, Other) 5’ 2” long black hair cut-off blue jean shorts clingy light blue top falls hits head on side of bar dies of fatal blow to skull forensics report crushed occipital lobe assailant Stacy Won female 31 years of age race #4 (Asian) 5’6” black jeans black leather jacket red helmet Honda motorcycle still at large

witness accounts

Jess Delaney female 33 years of age race #2 (White) 6’ tight black pencil skirt white sleeveless undershirt no bra 3” heels blond ponytail “that squirting little **** deserves everything she got she lied told Stacy i’m a ***** i never cheated on Brittany i don’t understand we were all having a good time getting buzzed and dancing we should never have left Cactus Moon **** Kerrie thought some biker dude might be hanging around the Bandit hell maybe the Bandit was a biker bar once but now it’s just a college sink hole full of drunken frat boys when Monique flashed a little *** they went crazy cheering and buying us shots it just got out of hand never should have happened the way it happened Stacy didn’t mean to **** Brittany it’s ****** up i want to go home please let me go home”

Sabrina Starn female 29 years of age race #2 (White) 5’8” trendy corporate gray suit black pumps red shoulder length hair “i have to be at work at 8 AM Stacy was drunk out of control she gets crazy when she drinks Brittany was trash talking pushing all Stacy’s buttons then Stacy accused Brittany of sleeping with Monique and all hell broke loose i didn’t see what happened i was in the powder room it’s a terrible tragedy unfortunate accident can i please be released i need to sleep this is madness”

Kerrie Angeles female 27 years of age race #1 (Hispanic) 5’ 6” black pants white shirt black hair cut stylishly short silver crucifix around neck red fingernails “when we got to the Bashful Bandit i was ***** soaking between my legs thinking about a cowgirl at Cactus Moon ready to **** anyone i saw fantasized pulling a train with those frat boys Monique had been kind of quiet at Cactus Moon but when we got to the Bashful Bandit she lit up dancing wild unbuttoning her top jacket Sabrina went to the ladies room to snort coke with biker dude Kerrie wanted but he wasn’t into her then Brittany started saying crazy stuff accusing Stacy of stealing Monique from Jess Jessie goes through women heartlessly she doesn’t give a **** about Monique Jessie knows if she wants Monique back she can simply fiddle a finger my guess is Stacy is half way to Argentina she never meant to **** Brittany i’m going to miss her real bad she was a good kid”

Ann Skyler female 28 years of age race  #2 (White) 4’ 11’’ green white red Mexican peasant skirt black t-shirt black high-tops hair in messy bun “i’m confused i saw them dancing laughing grinding up against each other Rage Against the Machine came on then Nine Inch Nails the room felt quaking dizzy claustrophobic then they were pushing each other shoving yelling frat boys cheering the next thing i knew Brittany was supine on the floor blood pouring out maybe she just slipped hit her head i don’t know what to think i feel real sad confused sick to my stomach scared”

Monique Smithson female 24 years of age race # 3 (Black) 5’ 9” blue jeans jean jacket cowboy boots nose ring braided pigtails “Stacy had it in for Brittany from the start i saw it in her eyes at Cactus Moon she made several clever toxic remarks they snapped at each other i never thought it would escalate to ****** poor sweet Brittany was always so susceptible i was looking down adjusting my jeans over my boots when it happened i heard felt a big thump glanced up Brittany was lying there lifeless blood spilling everywhere Stacy ran out fast i heard her bike engine take off in a hurry”

Rodeo Drive Tucson

matt’s hats tom’s tools & tobacco lou’s liquors fred’s beds frank’s planks bill’s drills jane’s drains & panes chuck’s check cashing cheryl’s barrels hank’s tanks tina’s trucks & tractors walt’s asphalt sean’s pawn rick’s rifles mom’s guns terry’s tires charlie’s harleys rhonda’s hondas jim’s rims art’s parts gus’s gasoline mike’s bikes frank’s feed gwen’s pens ann’s cans nancy’s nursery joes‘s clothes jess’s dresses bert’s skirts steve’s sleeves paul’s shawls michelle’s shells & bells al’s pails & snails sam’s hams & jams patty’s pancakes phil’s chili don’s donuts betty’s spaghetti bob’s burgers alycia’s quiches jean’s beans jerry’s berries anna’s bananas andy’s candies cathy’s taffies tony’s ponies roy’s toys kim’s whims marty’s parties jill’s pills rick’s tricks alice’s palace debbie’s disposal dave’s graves

Quinta Waltz de Tucson

she is definitely displeased profoundly disappointed in her latest literary efforts she dreams aches to create deeper discourse higher insight more thoughtful philosophical inquiries about life’s challenges beauty a better world overpowering love inspiration instead she writes paperback television trash stupid inadequate answers to solemn questions she wonders if she is too scratched dented to find love her ******* are definitely changing she is deeply disturbed not ready for menopause too young for menopause she wants to remain a fertile woman with smooth skin wet ******

2

her neighbor Leslie awoke to horrible morning Leslie’s 6 chickens were assaulted overnight precious Mabel dragged off feathers everywhere trail down the street other hens cowering slumped together with wilted necks 3 of them with puncture wounds Leslie carried them one by one inside washed their wounds hugged them cried who did this terrible act a neglected abusive neighborhood cat or some desert predator why didn’t Leslie wake to sounds of savage marauding now this creature knows hen’s whereabouts when will it return for more massacre what modifications need to be enforced to ensure their coup before nightfall

3

she wants to remain a hen keep producing eggs does not want is not ready to enter the next **** stage of this **** existence it was fun being pretty for men inspiring them to say do whacky things she wants to remain a hen she is definitely displeased profoundly disappointed in her latest literary attempts “Tucson square dance” (self-referential) ****** bit about Americans came through here last night in “Tucson 3-step” ****** "Rodeo Drive" tepid perhaps the pinot noir lowered her standards everything is becoming nothing she cannot sleep tosses turns thrashes sheets in humid heat of her lonesome bed is she is too scratched dented to find love she worries for Leslie

4

tomorrow is another day they say the rain will come last year’s monsoon never came the baking sun smothered her garden died one by one sleepless she will miss tomorrow’s pilates class the infrequent delightful chatty breakfast afterwards she dreams aches of deeper discourse higher insight with detached humor that only comes from keener intelligence more thoughtful philosophical inquiries about life’s challenges beauty a better world overpowering love inspiration she crossed the line tonight her ******* are definitely changing

Tucson 666

he decides to shave eighth to quarter inch length salt and pepper beard a.k.a. unshaven look he has worn for years and grow full mustache the whiskers on his upper lip are darker with sparse gray at first no one notices after weeks the mustache gradually fills evoking many contrasting remarks several women loath it several men admire it girl at grocery store suggests he grow Fu Manchu so she can tug on it shopgirl says he looks like Charlie Chaplin downstairs neighbor from Turkey explains most Turkish men traditionally wear mustaches he read mustaches masculinize and empower men especially men in authoritative positions he thinks back to the 1960’s when many hippie males grew mustaches then in the 70’s gay men fashioned mustaches then in the 80’s cops adopted mustaches he wonders why a swatch of hair beneath nose is so provoking examines his visage in mirror discerns the mustache confers a Pepé le Pew quality or European accent to his appearance he remembers when he was young hippie with many amorous episodes how his mustache preserved the scent of a woman but there are no women in his life for many years do post-menopausal women possess scent? he feels indecisive whether to retain it or be rid of it

2

she observes her figure in mirror thinks to herself maybe her ******* are not changing perhaps it’s all in her head she inspects the little lines forming near her eyelids studies her features for signs of aging hardly any silver strands in long brown hair she examines neck ******* arms elbows fingers tummy hips pelvic region thighs knees shins calves ankles feet detects subtle changes thinks to herself my ******* are possibly slightly changing turned 40 in March married briefly in late teens no children a 15 year old dog beginning to suffer veterinarian promises to warn her when the time comes she wonders why it is so difficult finding fitting mate men sleep with her several times then move on maybe she is not such a great lover perhaps she would be better if one of them stuck around perhaps she is a lesbian the whole ide

When I was a little girl,
Mama always put my hair in two pigtail braids.
She'd separate it so one was on each shoulder,
and then gave me a finishing twirl.

Never have I ever thought of what the hair felt like.
From day one in science class, I was taught it was dead cells,
nothing more, nothing less.
Never have I ever thought of how it felt to be pulled so tight.

It's taken a few years, and I've long since grown out of the pigtail braids.
Now, I make them more fancy, a french braid or a fancy one to the side.
Maybe this is a lesson, that things only get pulled tighter and tighter with hidden rage and growing age.
Never have I ever known how fast a stressed and pulled heart fades.

cliche. click
I'm lost without you

you glanced my way and said,
"how do you know?"

I don't.
I won't.
I can't.

You glance away and say,
"maybe so."

Life's the test.
----
stand alone or be rejected
objected
the subject of the action word
conjecturing the meaning

Hector's pride brought the mass.
Was that made sacred? Yechhh.

Higgs's made real,  massive change
end of the world
as we knew it, 2012, mass means more than x-mas

The message in the messenger from Greece's God,
"Hold fast, hold on, Hector, be
hold-- what a drag"

Achilles, shoulda had anger management.

Suppose, Achilles's momma had trusted
whatever the protection was to be,
divine, that kind o' dad,
it warn't gonna let 'im drown.

She coulda just tossed 'im in,
sink or swim, knowing, in her inner parts,
the protector's promise,
memorized, since the red tent.

Pandora's last hope trumps fire,
and flood,

Wee Achilles woulda squirmed, and swam,
invincible, every inch soaked,

it could been, but, you know,
Achilles's momma could not let go.

And the rest is mythtery.

---
the sign said follow the money,

but money is invisible, so I played like
I could see what other folk
saw.

Lot o'them took time to tell me,
"Only believe", or "trust, and obey".
Streets of gold,
we'll slide back
down on silk stockings
hung on spider thread

above the flames

that boil the kettle in the center of
the whole round world,

nobody in our family ever once
believed the world is flat,

nor that Jesus once was blue and had four arms,

stop me.
I was wrong, I, myself, can imagine
Jesus dressed as Rama,
who was blue and had four busy arms, in truth.

hallowed ev'ening of the light,
settling sun, lead in the night, when all
see monsters, every where,

no one will notice me. Watch and see.

OH OH, ****** me by my pigtail, lift me to the third
floor, two stories past tellestial,
kingdom come,
which the mormon at my door testified
the angelic ***** had told Brigham 'n'em,

in the spirit, he agreed, not face to face.

tellestial is as close to hell as a Mormon man can go,
and,
he said, "If you could see it, you'd die to go.
It's so much better than this."

Joe Smith, said that, according to his agent.

I pondered,
chewed a cud, as I could recall, holy cows do.

I leaned back, put one boot to rest,
on the bricks behind my knee,

A modified Crane pose, I suppose.
I folded my arms and stared that boy
right in the eye.

I said, "Wanna try?"
"We gotta bridge up the road a piece,
sure as haell,
we'll see if it's a lie, at least."

Then I repented.
That hell imagined by Joe and all them zionic-messengers,
they was guesses, at the best. But the feelers at my door,
they was bein' tempted
to put their own faith to the test.

I grow bolder. The experiment worked.
I know.
Same ol' story...

-She said it tasted,
okeh,
first time that word was ever heard or tasted.

Cool,
****, cold, evil, winter, summer, sweat, mosquitos, evil cold,
I'm sorry!

How do you know?
What's blame?
Oh, that, and shame, I know that,

epi genetically be guile-ish. gullibility
gone in one bite.

Taste and see, he saw her say, or thought
he did

Like a switch, with more capacitance,
than the cells of knowing can resist,
in the first few months of being matter in time.

Knock a fella in the head
with knowing all the hows of evil,
along with all the why of not,

the most beautiful woman in the world,
no contest,
naked, and he knows.

Thinkin' straight ain't in the plan.
Precedent set forever,
no plan survives first sight of a naked woman after learning what naked means,

according to the tutor in blame,
who sat glumly on Adam's shoulder
explaining as the jist
of the story unrolls, "naked is evil,
you are naked", no word, just
thinkin'

good luck if yer helpin' him stand,
Wham

spoken words heard and
obey essence initial instantiation
revere
lionize,

oops, Idols. The idea of idols. Don't imagine anything like that.

Gabriel came with that very message all over his face.

Knowin' evil and doin' it, not the same.
Learn to drive and do the math,

Then we talk about artifice beyond the ken of mortal minds,
not worry,
it is written, We have the mind of Christ,

but as an augmentation really,
we can fact check,
but, honest,
a heretic has to use any augmentations right,
or the being powers will

objectify his reason for being, and reject him, for

the sin of defining the happiness he ensues.

You with me?
----
This was to be my comment,
but it called out for search engine priority of purpose

Nothin', I was thinkin' --
we never get trick or treaters,
tho' an occasional Mormon team will try to climb my hill,
then I un cussed my thoughts
with my inner self and we agreed.
He who would catch fish,
must venture his bait.
Net criticism's needed, if anything is to get better than this.
Wise ones say, it ain't easy,
but true rest,
I can testify, it's found along the way.

Hallowed be your even-ing, level up,

trick or treat?
not on that old man's hill,
somethin' weird, too peaceful there.

I thought the guy dressed up like a kingfisher
Didn’t really look like a kingfisher
His beak too long
His legs not yellow enough

But still he did a pretty good job of diving into the water
And coming up with a guy dressed up like a fish
Even though his fins looked a little too stiff to me
(No wonder the kingfisher caught him)

And the bull facing that matador
(who even had a pigtail like the one Hemingway kept mentioning --
Oh, I mean the real man not the man dressed as a bull)
He just looked too scared for a bull
Well that’s what I thought
And I’ve been to a lot of bullfights
Real bulls got more bravery than that
Sure they’re confused
But I’ve never seen one turn tail and run
Oh yeah -- and he forgot to put a tail on his bull suit

All in all it was a wash wasn’t it
Wetter than the guy in the kingfisher suit.
Still it was nice for us to dress up in animal costumes
To give the animals at least one day to have a day off

Maybe next year we’ll figure it out better
Both in our costuming and their cries

she feels disappointment in her recent writings as if she is reaching a more sophisticated audience and setting a higher standard for her work yet she is not living up to her ambitions her recent writings smell of her past writing too emotional the damaged woman wounded child she wants to write more introspectively with detached humor that only comes from keener intelligence she slams her laptop shut decides to go to club congress for a ****** mary or margarita but club congress is haunted with small town cretins losers wannabes she considers maynard’s decides maynard’s is too safe suburban yuppyish finally gives in to thought of glass of pinot noir at plush next comes what to wear jeans in late july desert heat is unacceptable perhaps a loose fitting thin cotton white summer dress leather sandals hair in ponytail no pigtail braids no ponytail no makeup maybe a little mascara not she thinks about her recent writings

2

i am one breath away from crying in every moment one breath away from flying m.i.a. in every moment one breath away from destroying everything there is beauty in ugliness beauty in decrepitude disease beauty in harm hurt suffering beauty in greed injustice betrayal beauty in corruption contamination pollution beauty in hate cruelty ignorance beauty in death we spend our whole lives searching for a good death we spend our whole lives searching for eternal love this modern world is too much for me over my head the horrors of this place are beyond words unspeakable a voice inside maybe mom yells quit your whining or dad hollers stop complaining i am trying to smile through tears one breath away from giving in one breath away from becoming a stranger to myself winter spring winter spring there is beauty in nothingness we spend our whole lives searching for ourselves learning who we are not finding grasping secrets from dark paths light trails winter spring winter spring i am one breath away

3

she sits alone at the air-conditioned bar at plush glass of pinot noir glass of ice water in front of her 2 bearded older men eye her from other end of bar she ignores them glances at her wristwatch tries to look like she is waiting for someone music from speakers antiquated rock standard it is early friday hours from dusk a moderate middle aged crowd mingle wait for local jazz trio to begin she thinks about her recent writings wonders is it too late for love considers a lesbian affair from 5 different perspectives 5 woman’s voices each describing the same lesbian affair in 5 opposing accounts hmmm she sips dark red wine from glass chases it with ice water she considers a story about a gang of female bikers who ride south to Mexico

4

the Americans came through here last night crossing the border illegally climbing over our fences digging tunnels beneath our barrier walls littering along their trails they travel in packs of every skin color carry guns knives explosives wear leather boots some are shirtless tattoos dyed hair mischievously smiling conceitedly stealing when in question murdering they rob our homes slaughter our chickens ransack gardens loot our harvest you can still smell the stink of their fast food breaths

5

she swallows the last dark red wine from glass chases it with ice water local jazz trio begins to play as bar fills with more people she decides to walk home one foot in front of other wonders who taught her how to walk how many times did she fall she laughs to herself

I fell in love with the weird, the chaotic.
I mean.
Have you ever considered what the shaky man at the end of the street was screaming?
Have you ever found order in the chaos of a Jackson *******?
Einstein may have been famous for E=MC squared,
but he also determined that S=KlogW.
Order tends to move to disorder as time progresses.

Tell me you don’t warm at the sight of a toddler with ice cream down her dress, sitting in a mud pile with only one sock on one foot, one pigtail half done, and one smile plastered across her indifferent face.
The road of exes I’ve left behind is wrought with Star Trekkies, cult members, and bi polar *******,
but here I stand begging for more.
My BFF Becky,
who’s really my therapist Karen,
says I’m seeking inspiration.
But the shaky man on the corner who sometimes thinks he’s God
says that I’m Galileo.
And I’d rather believe him.

wifi is literally the radio wave r.a.d.a.r. like sonar or ultrasound but super computer crunching the data to visual rendered interpretations of digital information like laser 3d imaging real time full spectrum 3d environment video rendered in some cases, and others tiny tiny pin head mic and cams, but wifi via modems, devices tablets and cell with land line and cell tower , then you see the full saturation of the principalities of the air. and yes. it is that all seeing. and then infuse the social media, digital records of criminal, medical, military, scholastic, employment, financial, political emails, all forms of communications even snail mail, news agencies, all world wide data transfers, all audio systems even car stereos, home entertainment and appliances have secretly been incorporating the circuits that can be used via wire less signal to act as data points even microphones like a speaker is a mic just huge, and a temp sensor and many sensor actually function in many other useful ways, this is not uncommon, sort of like how an butter knife becomes a Flathead ***** driver when in need. your tv, refrigerator, sound system, even light bulbs of the cfl pigtail sort have been claimed to act as data gathering point, but the scary stuff in not just that you can be seen in full move around with the target 360 and 3d is that many devices transit data or harmonic frequencies into your home even when you have zero internet or c able even electricity, just take note of your wifi lists of neighbors, then realize many do not transmit their identity to be seen, and all these sensors and outright cameras and mics do not alert or announce that they can be accessed by internet of many, many common devices and these frequencies can do a hell of a lot of scary things to living conscious biological tissue, like make you sick, or even change emotions and states of comfort or discomfort, like cause you to feel pain in the back and gut, ( most common side effect and a sign of its use) simply search elf wifi cell towers and mind control, sound manipulation, sound that you can not hear you still interpret and even sound can cause you to see different colors and never hear it. so go figure and let the mind wonder and you have still not hit the horrors of this techs use, try the assault and made to forget, or the hypnotic induced trance via wave length in wifi and not recall events of bad things and even loose time some small like 5 10 minutes others loose days or hours. we have, a lot and well, this might help folks realize the power that these things have and just think if bad people in groups decide to use it.

pulling on a pigtail
chewing on a hangnail
tucking in a shirt tail
your hearts on the line

turn to a stranger
look him in the eye
you feel a little awkward
you feel a little shy
your hearts on the line

ducking in the restroom
fiddle with your hair doo
looking in the mirror
though it never looks right
******* in your tummy
checking on your ****
well you know what
your hearts on the line
well you know what
your hearts on the line

I wore my frilly frock,embellished with stones bright
Tying my hair into a pigtail
I came out of my room like a strong gale


'Father!' I called out loud,
Again and again with a merry voice
I lacked patience and many other virtues
But all of it was unseen
For that day was my birthday

Mother came rushing to me
Held me against her *****
In a creaking voice she said to me..
'Ssh,my child.
He is out
He is out to make our country proud'.


I was 11, a child lost in her own dreams
of colors, dolls and things pretty
Never did I understand my mother's message
For I was a child void of the world of war
of blood and death.

The radio played,
My mother cried.

'What is happening?'
I thought.
The surroundings sulked in gloom
I shook my mother's arm
Tears gushing down her face,she looked at me

'General Smith , died a martyr..'
The radio played
'..served his country till his last breath'
it went on playing.

My world of pretty things bright
was no more bright
For the pall of darkness battled and won over all things nice.

Everything echoed in my ears
My father's name was being played over and over again.
They were singing praises of my father
'He was out to make our country proud' they said.

He finally came
Draped in a white sheet
He was there,sleeping.
Many faces unknown crowded my home
Cried they on the occasion of my birthday.

I went up to him and cried
'Wake up Father, its my Birthday.'
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
For he lay there silent,eyes closed.

'Oh' I muttered
and ran down the hallway
Shutting the doors behind me
I buried myself on the pillow
Praying to God for everything to be a nightmare
I wished for nothing but to fall asleep forever.

My world of pretty things bright
was no more bright
For the pall of darkness battled and won over all things nice.

I was 11 and innocent.
A stranger to the world of war,blood and death.

Sitting in the cozy house,
Gazing out silently
At another rainstorm

Tugging on dry wool socks,
Tugging on slick rubber rain boots,
Toes warm and protected.

Dashing out the door,
Releasing a giggle, splashing
From puddle to puddle
As lighting reflects off
Miniature gleaming teeth.

Time is endless
For this moment is hers
Until the clouds fade,
Taking the flood along.

Pools of water form,
Still.
She dances in the storm
To the drumming of rain,
Applauded by thunder.

A little yellow poncho
Set free by droplets,
Dripping from her fingertips.

Tiny twirling legs,
Pigtail braids flapping wild,
She swirls.

Showers cease
With sun peaking out
Behind gray fleeting clouds

Puddles left behind,
Rippling under her feet,
Sparkling dimly.

we were 5 years old
he wore spiderman velcro shoes
i wore pigtail braids
he had dark brown hair just like mine
we played tag together during recess
we would race to the swings
to see who could swing the highest
and then jump off
to either scrape our knees or laugh it off
he'd tease me saying "you can't catch me"
and wait for me to start chasing him around the dandelions
but now
i am 19 years old
and i forgot what my first love looked like
not even around the dandelions can i find my love
i forgot where he went and didn't bother chasing him again
so now i wait for a new love
to come find me not with pigtail braids
but instead find me here with my coffee and mascara on

“Mommy, why is the moon running away from us?”

A sigh from the front seat,
The wheels bouncing on the Michigan potholes.

“Honey, it’s not running away, it just appears to move with us.”

A moment of silence, except for the soft hum of the engine.

“But why, Mommy?”

A slight groan from the front seat as a speeding car passes.

“I don’t know, our eyes are just messed up, I guess.”

Bouncing pigtails from the toddler car seat, humming her song.

“Mommy, are we almost there?  I’m scared that the moon will catch up with us.”

“I thought we were chasing the moon.”

“But now it looks like it’s chasing us.”

Trembling hands grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white.

“I’m excited to see Daddy.  Are you, Mommy?”

“Don’t call him that.”

Her voice was dangerously low, almost the same pitch as the hum of the road.

More pigtail bouncing.

“But he is my dad, right?”

Pursed lips and clenched teeth.

“Yes.  Just try to be nice.”

“Are you talking to yourself, Mommy?”

Attention taken from the road, eyes wandering up to the moon.

“Mommy, why are we running away from the moon again?”

A sigh from the front seat,
The wheels bouncing on the Michigan potholes.

“I don’t know, we’re all just messed up, I guess.”

Spoiled in more ways than one
For the record
I once was a pure white maiden
who wore their hair in pigtail braids
and only chewed tobacco on
Saturday evenings.
Sabbath never meant a word to me
The misunderstood don't understand
Mistakes are still made
Out of control
In the backseat beating to a drum
Sound coming from the heart
thrown in the glove box
I didn't mean to -
You chopped off my hair
with a rusty blade
left scars on my shins
battered not broken
for the record
rotten. In more ways than one.

what, your daddy was a drunk
you’re trying to take it out on me,
in order to keep me as filth and he as pristine?
oi freud! freud! get in here and sort this out,
i'm not minted enough for a recliner-couch,
i can stand in a queue for vine tomatoes
but i can't do it for a soul i'll be paid for
to analyse: just let me eat the **** tomatoes;
i too wished i missed the v.i.p. pass into the 27 club
though, with hendrix licking for slit tongues on
guitar strings, to no door, to no nirvana, only
applauded by charlie chaplin for the effort.
go on... play along with pippi langstrumpf
while i talk to your dear daddy about pigtail ******
and your crass concern for horrid images
but frail words needing censorship, ms. 'adism.

comes a time, and time again, when you have to cut your eyebrows, if you want to be able to see at least a little more clearly through your deteriorating sight, I advise it, and I hardly ever advise anything, make of that what you will.
comes a time to cut finger and toe nails
the hair on your head, a tied pigtail makes this easy, but you decided three years ago to never cut your beard, ever again.
at some point your teeth become loose, and with a couple of months wiggling, I can testify, you will pull your own molars, out.
Yes comes a time when you become so relaxed.

First of all I think it's an appropriate song for these times.
Kind of semi-tragic bittersweet beauty goes on
Caused, I think, by just the people
I've griped about - countercultures, youth,
revolution, the cult of the hippie
and I think that's good
that we're getting a taste
of a bro-ken-heart-ed mel-o-dy
I remember I felt so bluesy
and sad when I listened to
when it first came out
when I was going through a hippie stage
as an adolescent -
Cheerios - honey - tea - coffee with Mom for breakfast - sunflower seeds,
a small pigtail, an earring, bell bottom
blue jeans - I had my mother hem 'em up for me
Oh, well, anyway, yeah, Sassy
Sarah Vaughn and her song
This generation just might be sarcastic
if they sing along and blurt it
out in their dialogue.
It could be that I'm fancying

That boy
He drives me nuts
He's the cloud of gnats who get stuck in my ear
He's the patch of ice that sent me down on my rear
He's the kid in third grade
Who pulled my pigtail
He's the buggar the postman left
On my mail
He's stuck to me, now
All slimy and goo
I wonder if he's thinking of me too

pink buzz
listen to her splashing tongue
and my lip trilling licks
shivering liquid traffic at her delicatessen
opening wide for corned beef ****, mayonnaisy
black lipstick lips taste like Drambuie
and belch a garland of muttering burps
passed candy mint teeth and swirling lips

let the fireworks smoke the sky
as it billows and sprouts
from my rubbery ***** crystal dream
its open skin exhumed
breathing hard with a strained pulse
peering from my trousers zipper
like a pugnacious criminal
a kicking pony between our legs

before
a quick shower
i rinse off
this squeaky poodled up
dally-whacker
all wavy and bowed
like a curled pigtail

falling eye lids drop like venetian blinds
and accentuate a Chinese lantern
casting crimson light as blood linen
while a whipped cream parfait
poured out
bursting with love
at exactly
midnight in the afternoon

If you walk down Farm-to-Market Street far enough, you get to the Paradise Cafe, the best place in Waller, Texas to have breakfast. "Howdy. How ya doin?" says an old man wearing jeans and a cowboy shirt you have to button up instead of the conventional way with a venerable, old cowboy hat on his head. "Have a seat," he says. There is an empty stool at the counter, so you sit down beside him. "Haven't seen you before," the wizened old man says. "Where ya from? "New York City," you reply. "New York City!" the old man exclaims. "The Big Apple! What brings ya to Waller?" "I'm walking across America," you say. "You're doing what?" the old man says incredulously. "I'm walking across America," you say again. "Well, I'll be ****! I never done that." the old man says. The waitress, a pretty, young woman wearing a pigtail, says, "What can I getch ya?" " "I'll start with a cup of coffee, black." "I'll be right back," she says. "I'm 71. Got born here in Waller, quit high school, started working on a cattle ranch. Spent my whole life on that ranch. Never got married. Now the government is paying me so I can stay alive," he says. "Come in here every morning to have breakfast. Ain't she a beauty!" he says, referring to the waitress. "Sweet as she is pretty," he adds. Sally--the old man told you her name--comes back with a cup of steaming black coffee. "What would you like to eat?" she asks. "I'd like two eggs sunny-side up with a double order of hashbrowns, two sausage patties, and whole wheat toast, butter, but no jelly." "I'll get it. More coffee? "Yes, please." "Waller ain't fancy, but good people live here," the old man says. "But about 20 years ago, somebody robbed the bank. Nobody ever caught him." In a short time, Sally brings you your breakfast. It is good. When you finish eating, you pay your bill and leave five dollars on the counter for Sally. "It was nice meeting you," you say to the old man. "Likewise, I reckon," he replies." "You have a good rest of your walk across America, ya hear," the old man says. "Thanks. I think I will. Here, take this," and gives the old man a twenty. "And keep the change. Thanks for being so nice to a stranger." Then you get up and walk out of the Paradise Cafe to continue your journey.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks