Holy hot sauce,
Hot sauce burning down leftovers and waste,
Adding spice to this flesh
Not going with anything,
Not going with anything else
Better,
Never better than hot sauce,
Hot sauce with well stuffed and fried or stewed
In Shells of porcelain contents,
Shaped and decorated, well plated,
Well plated with Silver and Gold plateaus
Of stew, salads and anything fried
Taking a rich shower of the loveliest spiced,
Holy hot sauce.

With each
CLICK
Our breath is held
Will he,won't he
Will he, won't he
The suspense is killing me
And....****
Door left open still
Pestered by the plebeian chill

In this gay little coffee shop
Surrounded by the unrecognised talent of Brighton:sketch artist staring at me, writer on his laptop, songwriter etching vigorously with his pencil.
All of which aren't closing the door.

The eyes roll.
Labouring my body up, hammering my legs across the floor, turning the factory handle.

All is ask is for some carrot cake,filtrate water,polo jumpers, avocado salads,tiger bread, slimmer trousers, slipper sock , a toyger.
Click
And then images of Kim Jong un pass through my head.
If I ruled you'd all be dead
Firing squad for an open door,
Loud music on the train'll be no more.
Stop the screaming misbehaving brats
The rabble of Spanish students
All this PC stuff on the news, train seats filled with cans of *****

Suddenly
The artist strolls up
Let's down his cup.
Closes the door swiftly
And slips back in his chair

Oh, so there is a god.

I guess Jesus didn't lie.

Every moment I
spent with her
was somehow
filled with a
full hug or
a soft kiss.

Her kitten
soft touch fills
the memories I've
kept hidden
from us all.

We made Love
more than we
slept, enjoyed
eachothers
company more
than the meals we
never finished.

She'd enjoy
the fancy salads
while I abused the
wine.

There were
more smiles
than curses,
less talking
and more
listening.

But what
made it all so
much more
than
any other
time before.

Was the fact
that there was
more laughing
than talking.
Which
left little to
no room for
foolish arguing
at all.

These bones are invisible
I can't stay like this forever
The mirror reflects rolls and cellulite
I can't see bones
All I hear in my ear
"You Anorexic *****! Gain some weight!"

I don't see bones
Thighs covered in fresh flesh
My pant size two sizes too big
Will this be me forever?

Consuming salads with no dressing
Isn't satisfying, but its easier to remove
"You ugly *****!"
You finally see what do too
I don't see bones

Sticks and stones can't break my bones
And I don't even have bones.

These nights spent bawling And shedding tears
Wishing I could lose 30 lbs
That scale spazzed out on me
"Get off of me!"

I look down and read 73.
**** this! Why is this me?!
I don't see bones

Rolls and cellulite
Is all I see
But I can't see bones

Her smile is beautiful
but it trembles ever so slightly
so that you can hardly see it
an autumn leaf, in the middle of fall
deciding whether or not to break from the branch

Her laugh is tentative
deciding whether or not to really let go
and her laugh is shaky
a small accidental vibrato in her throat
that catches its tremor ever so slightly


And her words wash over you,
accompanied by the cool breath of Altoids
and a leaf of the iceberg salad that she had for lunch
(no dressing please)

When she walks into a room
the air stills
not because she holds presence,
but merely because she lacks it
a rippling shadow that's gray and silver
against the dark ebony of the chalkboard

Her shoulders are ***** and upright
stiff and still
like a solider's stance
when standing at 'attention' in the middle of a battle
with the same dead expression
of seeing too much
that you want to go blind because of that
with the same stiff arms
that grip a pencil tightly
so that the whites of her knuckles are prominent and jutting
and you fear that the wood will snap under her detached temper


But her tears are not beautiful
because frankly,
sadness is not beautiful in itself
when it's on the page that you're reading
further ahead, maybe
but not in the present

And this is a girl who strives to be normal
without even looking up the definition
who eats skimpy iceberg salads at lunch with friends who all

have pizza and fries  
who constantly buys Altoids so frequently that she has a whole

box in her room full of empty tins
who is more aware of herself than anyone else
and this is a girl
who is insecure
A girl who loves without return
A girl who can laugh and cry and be just fine the next day
A girl who swears on a god that she doesn't necessarily believe
A girl who feels something when a boy smiles at her just the right way
A girl who is you

There once was a Rabbit who lived by a stream,
She supper-ed on salads and drank up my dreams.
She fed on the promises painted with oils,
But salad like dreams in the long winter spoiled.

Princess, I need you; you know where we've been,
I must dress you and press you and rub you down clean.
You are that girl, Rabbit, who sits among Royals,
You live as my breath, and this life's mortal coil.

She rolls in the plover and soft grasses green,
The Willow folk watch her, they laugh and they lean,
Then it's off to the garden, and therein to toil,
Pluck out Four Carrots and set them to boil.

A soft little life is all that we both need,
You're an end to my wandering, my suffering, my greed.

All he could see were numbers
that reached out and grabbed taxes
and takes, invoices and expenditures.
He could not see explanations of delight
that little mistake I made with fringe benefits,
those royalties that never came.
In the end his only concern was to pay the taxes
to build the roads, skyways and airports
where he would travel and stay.

I wondered how he slept at night
cocooned in numbers
just 1-9 with a hefty zero
that made the difference between rich and poor

I wondered how he could survive on numbers
no cucumbers, sunshine salads, beach beauties,
high waves of reckless living, low tides of penniless nights
and endless days of counting little many times over.

He said to me once: Save every cent,
fortify yourself against depression and
natural disasters, don't spend lavishly
there's a price to pay
cut up your credit card. Live austerely.

Oh yeah?. That same day I got an extra CC,
a nice Merc, some good looking sunglasses
(to shield my eyes from the accountants glare)
and a cruise to the Mediterranean
where the blue waters beckoned.

The accountant visited the GP
twice more than me that year.
I'm still working the fat off at the gym.
( I suspect petty poets do the same thing all the time?)
Author Notes

Anyone know this guy?

Check this Novel out!

The Chrysanthemum Trilogy: Transition
Marshall E Gass
ISBN 9781493137848

There are many firsts,
a first date.
A sloppy wet first kiss.
A first boyfriend or girlfriend.
Things you wish you could store up in a snowball.
To trap them in a place where time has no power.
Still. Frozen. Kept like figurines.

Time seems stretched out like a string,
Taut and endless, spiraling into knots and tangles.
We take what we can get.
It might be the last smile on our face.
Happy ever after,
Or the end of all we know.

So many lasts sprinkled like salt on salads,
The last time you ever saw a loved one's face.
Last time you loved.
It could be the last heartache,
But you would never know.

Time is but a lifeline to present and past.
It can be snatched right out of your hands.
Gone as fast as lightning,
Too powerful to contain in any vessel.
Time can be everything and also nothing.

he had little to give, but gave it still
from his warm and generous heart
beating with a love pure and good
for his sister's children
so he seized the moment to stamp a value on my mind
gave me his prized bronze bottle opener
a fringe benefit from some fat kitchen where once he worked
with hot spices, sizzling grills and artistic salads
and now i have lost it, a thing of more than sentimental value
these gestures can never be repeated
they are the products of inspired moments
when somehow you know there can never be another chance
to leave some evidence that you too were here

I want to come home
to a bottle of red wine
and you
with a jazz record
and a summer breeze.

Breathing is such an amazing thing

When I hear your heart beat, I'm amazed

I think that's funny

Please, let's make salads
and steaks
and walk down the cobblestone
I want to draw our life

they tell us not to be defined
by our bodies
yet my innocence is tied
to my *****'s status
my appeal tied
to the circumference of my thighs
though beauty may come
in all shapes and sizes
it is only recognized
as the number on the tag
of that little black dress
you match with heels
that cut into your ankles
and lead to stares
that cut into your confidence
"compliments" rain down
and you're not given an umbrella
or at least a ******* raincoat
so you end up drowning, sopping
wet with your sexuality
your ability play down your education
and play up your physical attributes
so my worth is tied
to how much i can disappear
my careful use of measuring cups
reading labels like books
but let me tell you,
there is nothing sensous about
shoving a spoon down your throat
and salads may be ****
but i can't have *** with you
when my blood sugar is this low
while you admire
my "womanly" curves
i am haunted by what it took
to get my stomach to lay flat
so **** the desire for delicate wrists
these expectations are too heavy to carry
in these ******* coach purses

"Small towns are fun simple living man",*
I’ve always preferred a guitar riff to a beat drop
Girls in long sweaters and nothing else
Waterfalls to shopping malls
If you watch too many movies it
Becomes obvious not all endings are optional
but,
Anything can happen around a campfire
Anything can happen on an ice cream date
Anything that ever mattered
Becomes less important than
Something that mattered
To a family on vacation, waterski enthusiasts
cyclists of mountain or road, a children with ice-cream,
Playing in safe streets An Ice-cream parlour older than your parents
Iconic
A Small diving board
a Big diving board
And    the   cliffs.
Cliffs with edges that Hunter would jump from
I would always jump in love
Rather than fall

I’m starting to prefer pony tails to job interviews
Fast speeds to failures
Motorhomes to Mazda trucks
Homemade salads to Starbucks
For as much heart the barista’s have
The salad is homemade and heartmade
Home is where the heart is and
They rarely come home with ya
where my home is not where  I always am
Its always where you can find me.
it is not my house,
but my heart
That is my home.

And boy oh boy does my heart have a big **motor!

Eyes that flash the soul of civilization
And warm the heart in observation.

Love that whispers with a gentle touch
And surrounds with hugs that seem so much.

Cry Beloved!

Water that caresses with a thousand tongues
Sunshine that coos all the birds’ songs

Teachers and vets, pronouns and clowns
Croissants, marmalade, coffee and new lawns.

Cry Beloved!

Breezes and sneezes, walks by the shore
Seashells that capture all the sea’s roar

Powdery sand and laconic lagoons
Daydreams and naps in the afternoons

Cry Beloved!

Smiles, museums, carriages in the park
Salads with friends and chocolates too dark

Rowing among lily pads and turtles and frogs
Hiking and crossing the streams on new logs.

Cry Beloved!

Flowers and bees buzzing in the sun
Hummingbirds hovering, dogs on the run

Children running, giggles and wiggles
Caring, learning, reading and snuggles

Cry Beloved!

Snowy mountains, valleys green
Faith proclaimed, faith unseen


Wonder and ponder, awe and reverence
Invitations from God to join in the dance

Cry beloved!

Hands held together in prayer and in love
Eyes raised to heaven on the wings of a dove

Caring so deep, affection so real
Feel the love and start to heal

Cry My Beloved!

I forgot a fork
So I'm eating my salad with a spoon.
I didn't feel like sitting in the cafeteria,
Where it's too loud and busy,
So I went home,
Where I'd rather hear a muffled trombone lesson
Than my best friends's stories.

(I'm in one of those tired-sad moods
Where my whole body feels fatigued
And my face feels sad
And I shuffle around;
No motivation.)
So,
I went where I am.

I wish I could spend all day in home
--the band room--
The place I go to hide.
I have to remind myself
It's just a classroom
That I'll probably
Never
Set foot in after I graduate.

But, those are thoughts for
A later date
When I can remember
A fork.

One day the sky will darken more than it has
each hour will make you numb and we turn into zombies
because day after day we die from sadness
Boredom
lost in a city full of noise
the place you call home is just a place to stay
No adventure
No beauty  
you may breathe, but you aren't living
Day
      after
              day
You may watch your child grow
grow tall while you get old
I would tell you to sail a boat across the seven seas, but you would stare
stare at me in confusion
Discomfort
you don't understand a life of freedom
No one seems to.
Day
      after
              day
You will watch the rain slide down your window
would you consider running
Leaving
Escaping
would you take me with you
and finally get it
life is a maze
but i dare you to get lost
don't follow the map, follow your feet
Day
      after
              day
you will sit in traffic
watch the news
eat your salads, then stuff pizza down your throats
you will wake up again
                                      and
                 ­                           again
But never enjoy yourself with the world
tip over the genie in a bottle and spill out your wishes
Maybe one will fall into my cupped hands
And say freedom

Summer diet: Weight loss summer food

The weather may change but our diet remains constant. Whatever the weather, summer, winter or the monsoon we want our pav bhaji or Schezwan chicken or the spicy kebabs and the masala chai.

But realization never strikes us that change in weather could mean a change in diet as well. For those on a weight loss diet the options are slim, you need food that is delicious, low in calories, rich in vitamins and minerals as well as fibers. Let's peak into your refrigerator and cook up the best summer weight loss meals.

Max on vegetables: Vegetables are the best bet when the sun is unforgiving. Red meat is not advisable for summer as it increases your body's internal energy requirement for digestion - thus, tiring you out if you aren't in great health to begin with. Luckily Indian food is known for delicious vegetarian food, which means that you won't need to make too much of a compromise when shifting to a palette that mostly involves leafy vegetables.

Go easy on the nuts: Dried nuts are rich in calories and to avoid over indulging yourself with nuts have them in small proportion and stock away the rest. Another reason to avoid nuts in summer is that they produce heat in your body, which could result in heat boils. Go easy when snacking on these energy nibbles.

Learn about salads: They are no longer just sliced cucumbers, tomatoes and beetroot. Salads have evolved; restaurants have a wide selection of different salads. Indians are more open to feasting on salads as a meal. It takes less time to prepare and you can toss in anything you want even chicken and fish along with the greens. Add citrus fruits, chilled cucumber and fresh lettuce and you've got the perfect summer meal.

Try the chilled soups: Gazpacho is the first dish that comes to mind when you hear the words - chilled soups. But you can try out soups made of tomatoes, green peas and cucumbers; they are both cooling and refreshing. If you like beetroot, you should try chilled beetroot soup too. Healthy and refreshing, these chilled soups are the perfect starters on a hot and balmy summer night.

Enjoy fruits as desserts: Fruits cool the body, rejuvenate your cells, keep you hydrated, and taste like heaven on a hot summer day. Dice some fruits in a bowl, sprinkle some chat or cinnamon powder and you have an awesome dessert. Watermelon is the most sought after fruit when the sun is relentless.

Meet your summer crush - low fat yogurt: Dairy products are always a healthy option, provided they are low fat. Good for digestion and rich in calcium, you can have yogurt any way you like - whipped into lassi, sweeten with sugar or mixed with fruits. Yogurt is cheap and doesn't need a fancy accompaniment, but you do need a refrigerator to preserve the healthy bacteria.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-melbourne | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide

He is a seashell and I am the ocean, but it is not his fault.

He can only hold so many grains of salt or sand, he can only catch so many china       tears before they hit the floor and shatter into a billion disappointed slivers, never to be collected or krazy-glued.

It is not his fault.

In today’s society, it is preferred to be flat.

                     So he is blessed, my skipping stone.

It’s the people like me—the bottomless ravines—

That get lost in ourselves
                         That vacuum up lost puppies and paper cuts and hold them with us                                        so tightly that we’re guaranteed to spill over.

But we don’t. No, not even the slightest.

We just get deeper and deeper to make room for the cold water.
       We build secret gardens to plant poisonous roots and we hide them in our green teas and salads.
               We draw lemniscate maps that loop treasure hunters around our hearts, searching forever.
                          We shun the sturdy carp and send love letters to fickle anglers and glumfish.
                                       We refuse to die in our sleep.

His favorite drink is water and his favorite color is blue.
     My favorite drink is whiskey and my favorite color
Is alabaster when it’s raining,
                                     sea foam green if I’m trying,
                                                                               and violet when I’m in the mood.

In shortening she made me jam roly poly
a Jezebel in a grand fully furnished way aglow
with bold basement statements broad brushed full on
to glaze the way to a plum job whole storey mission
proclaiming sofas as soft as any humble pin cushion
stuffed with unfinished symphonies in a mansion
booming out to empire builders' biggest guns
tended by harems of belly dancing bumble bees
burbling alongside a myriad of louder hues
flowing into bouffant hairstyle shrubs brushed
and blow dried into blooming privacy bushes


but outside she transformed
yet served by outsize platters
prolific with blazing seasonings
glazed with enough sweets
to satisfy a pudding feast
laid before a sumptuous appetite
comforting peahens with broad beans
ripened beside horizons of warm salads
dressed by blooming strawberries
pores plumped up from ladles
dunked deep as finger buns
into sloppy icing barrels
awash with hoarded nuts
of sweet toothed squirrels
engorged to dozing on branch barges
full to the gunnels and slow wallowing
in troughs laden with fatted chugs
rambling across rolling oceans awash
with tranquil rafts of whales nibbling
each morning on shoals expanding
beyond shallows into deep new ports
to offload uncontainable cargo
swung low on sweeping vista nets
dragging tree trunks packed like Jumbo
to land with a thump in wide sided carts


splashing and rocking slowly on their ways
until mopped up by richly saturated bales
of overgrown Danish butter grass pats
resplendent amidst dollops of luscious
double churned cream gateaux farm gates
open for cuddling golden syrup spoons of heat
spreading mellowness deep into the sponge
of unfolded meadows with encyclopedic knowledge
accumulated into increased volumes of decisive “belle”
resounding excitedly across the hills of plenty


chirrups bumping cheekiness into narrow valleys
to settle hawk eyes wide open to opportunities
accumulating it all in seam stretched sack boasts
of the good life storehoused bigger than most
but ready to collect and offload refreshment
like the slow but steady wobbling airships
stretched out resplendent across hay loft skies
fluffed up between a sweating Queen bed cumulus
keen to bounce into cloudless heady ensembles
swung high over thigh slapping oompah band hills


in a tug-of-war snapping heartstring restraint
and low frequency waves of contentment
she apportioned herself and me in generosity
celebrating a fully stocked love stacked larder
sweet with chock-a-block huffs and puffs
and then glad sighs of expansive success
in relief a schmooze diorama all she was after
Summer's glorious bamboozled ardour

She's adorable. With her golden eyes and that cute laugh... If only she loved me back... If she'll come, maybe.
"Holy Rome!! ^^"
"Italy!"
She came!
"Holy Rome, what did you invite to this flower field for?"
"I just wanted to... enjoy the beautiful sight with you... build our alliance..."
"That sounds wonderful!" She picked flowers and sat down next to me.
"I picked you some flowers! Aren't they nice?"
"Yeah... They are pretty. Thank you."
She smiled in excitement and ran around the field. After a while, she got tired and sat down.
"Holy Rome! Look! The sunset!" She pointed at the sky.
The sky was orange and pink and we watched as it quickly set under the horizon.
After the sunset, Italy went home and left me all alone on the flower field, her flowers still in my hands. Another opportunity missed. To tell her I love her. To share my thoughts and feelings for her. For that romantic kiss during the sunset I was planning. Maybe next week.
---
I trudged home quickly and quietly, I just missed my moment to tell HRE how much I really love him... when i skipped through the vibrant field he brought me to, all i could think about was how he brought me here anyhow he was watching me the whole time... i could feel the red blood rushing to my cheeks, even now on the porch of austria as i sweep, just from thinking about HRE...

I sigh and continue to sweep, back and forth, back and forth, scampering all around the house, in a hazy daydream of HRE and me... oh how i love his tender smile... and the way he takes power and shows strength to all the other countries... I'm glad he and i are making an alliance... it gives me another excuse to see him :)

suddenly, i hear a crash.

"hey... italy..." a drunken austria walks into the room and staggers over to me. i look at him, frightened, as he leans down onto me, leaning on my shoulder and his mouth by my ear... he whispers "i love you italy..." he laughs a haggard laugh at my shocked face, his drunken alcoholic stench engulfing my nose with its smell and staggers back out the door where he came from.
I am left standing there with my broom to support me as i stare at the door, still so surprised, my mind whirring with so many thoughts....
---
Today I saw her again.
I volunteered to help her with her chores.
(at first I typed chairs ^^")
"Italy, um... do you need help... today?"
"Not right now Holy Rome, but maybe later."
**** IT. I lost my chance again.
"Are you sure?"
"Now that you mention it, where do you keep the vacuum?"
"Oh, follow me."
I showed her the way to the closet and gave her the vacuum. "Here, this is what you wanted, right?"
"Yes thank you."

I watch her vacuum as I stand to the side out of the way. The way she sings while working, the silent vacuum makes it much easier to hear her. Her occasional smile at me makes me blush every time. The way she stops and pants, it's just... adorable.

"Holy Rome?"
I snapped out of my thoughts. "Huh?"
"Can you help me put this away?"
"Oh, sure."
"Okay! Thank you!"

She surprisingly has manners. If only she could teach some people those manners, because then this life would be a whole lot easier! But, after I helped her put the vacuum away, she turned around and KISSED me! She kissed me, **** it! She told me she was leaving soon to another country.
"But, you can't!" I said. I was so upset I couldn't handle it.
"I'm sorry... I have no choice." She looked as if she was about to cry.
"Hey, Italy. Even if we don't see each other again, just remember that I love you..."
"Okay, I will."
---
I gathered my items into a suitcase and left that day.
I miss him already... i left him with that confused and tearful face of his... oh how sad... i didn't tell him i love you... how could i forget? DX but i gave him the kiss... maybe he'll understand my true feelings for him....

with these jumbled thoughts, i leave for vienna... where i shall stay with austria, he has offered me work in his summerhouse, in exchange i get to stay in his house to sleep... hopefully i can become stronger in a new country, and be like HRE.. i sigh and shake away my dreamy, starry eyes.

---

After the trip, i finally arrive to austria's house. he greets me at the front door, with what i think was an attempt at a **** smile? I'm not sure what he has in mind, after the stun he pulled the other day when he was drunk. i push the thought away and focus on preparing the lavish dinner he has put me up to, with glazed duck confit, salads, soups, everything.

i set up the table and serve all the food in the main dining room table. he sits on one end and on the other end of the long table, theres an empty chair. he simply says, "Go get changed into something presentable, then come down here and join me for dinner."
I look at him in shock, quickly recover, and run up to my room to follow his orders.
---
I went home, seriously depressed and beaten. Why? She's so sweet and nice that it's just too sad to think about. Oh, Italy...

Wait, she said something about going to Austria's... that must mean forever! I was pretty sure that maybe she could come back one day. But I guess not now that I know exactly where she's going... she might not come back. I won't ever see her again. Our "goodbye" wasn't even long enough for a goodbye that meaningful... I wish I could say goodbye at least one more time.

I walk into my home and sit on the couch. I'm too depressed to do anything. I don't want to eat, I don't want to walk, I don't want to breathe but I have to...
---
I rush down to the dining room, with the finest tux that i own and sit down in the chair across from Austria. He looks at me with a new look i havent seen before... im not sure what it is but it seems... familiar.. in the creepiest way. i shyly look up at him as i tuck the tissue into my shirt. he watches me even more closely this time and i look away.

"why dont you have some pasta, italy?"

i greedily take some pasta, pour the heavenly marinara over the perfectly cooked noodles. it is divine, and i slurp up the noodles with a fervor so unmannered, i blush at my rudeness, but im too hungry to stop.

i can still feel his stare.

is it what i think it is...?
lust? 0~0
---
Now you have to eat, Holy Rome!
But I don't want to.
You have to!
I don't want to!!!!!!!
Fine. Just watch the plate of perfectly made pasta you made yourself right in front of you go to waste, then!

I sigh as I catch myself fighting with myself. "Had to be pasta, didn't it? HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE! YOU ARE SUCH A BAKA!" I yell at myself. I suddenly start remembering all the fun we had together. At the Neko Festival, where we dressed as cats and danced together. In the flower field a few days before.

I started humming "Draw A Circle" to cheer myself up. But then it just makes me remember when Italy and I made a duet of our own...

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pk9nQzW30bI )

After I think about how much fun we've had together in the past, I think about her twin brother, Southern Italy. I've never met him before, but from what I hear from Austria, he sounds like a ****. I'm kind of glad that Italy doesn't have some of her childhood with him.

Wait a minute.

If Southern Italy is ruled by Austria and Italy is too...

I have to save her!

I have to force myself to stand.

STAND HRE!

I finally stand up and quickly run out the door. Italy! I have to save her! Please let her be safe! Safe from Southern Italy! PLEASE!
---
I blush and look down at my food. it can't be...

"how r u liking ur food, italy?" he asked with a weird smile and a strange tone to his voice...
i tentatively replied, "pasta is always good. um.... may i be excused? i have some work to get done?" he stared at me with a bit of disappointed, replying quietly, "whatever you need to do, my dear." i quickly left, all the while feeling his strong stare on my back. i shudder and hurry up the stairs and slam the door quickly, locking it as well.

well that was creepy. i wish HRE was here, he'd protect me and id be able to confide in him on what i think austria is up to.

I settle down on to my bed after i brush my teeth and change.
mmmm.... so soft.....

right before i settle off to sleep, i hear a sudden noise, a crash. i rush outside my room and quickly head to austrias room to see if he is ok.

"... mmmm oh italy is so cute.... i just want to kiss him sometimes.... and his cooking... simply marvelous..." muffled noises are heard from the room. i back up hesitantly, unsure what to do as i can see a faint outline of him holding a picture... of me. i back away slowly, completely freaked out. i try to escape his notice as quietly as possible.

too late.

"italy? is that you i hear, my dear?"
I stop, unsure what to do. austria comes out the room, still clutching the picture of me and wraps his arms around me. I stand stiff, incapable of moving.
"you look so **** in those pajamas of yours..." he whispers eerily into my ear. i turn red, and try to get out of his grasp,but he is too strong... he pulls me closer towards him and begins to kiss my neck...i gasp and squirm trying to get him too stop, but he just pushes me against the wall and pins me there. he starts tugging at my shirt and I struggle to break free.

suddenly a loud bang explodes through the hallway.
austria doesnt stop, he starts to take my shirt of, bit by bit, trailing a line of kisses and moans down to my now bare chest.

he whispers... "i see southern italy has arrived to help me..." he looks up, and gives me over to southern italy.
No! why?
I close my eyes shut, too scared too look.

Suddenly, another bang.
"who's this?" austria asks southern italy as southern italy continues to caress my pale, heaving chest, him moaning every so often.

"ITALY!" HRE yells as he comes to the rescue.

I open my eyes to see him charge at Austria.
---
I headbutted him. I kicked him. I scratched him. I did as much as I could to get him off of Italy. I pulled him away finally. Why the hell is Southern Italy here too?
"Southern Italy?!"
"What is it you *******?"
"Why are you here?"
"Because I feel like it!"
(All of this was happening as Austria is passed out on the floor!!!!)
Italy was standing there, her shirt off- WHAT?! I blocked my eyes so I could help put her shirt on without seeing anything.
"Why are you being so cautious?" Southern Italy asked/
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"You don't have to block your eyes..." Italy said. "Austria told me what was happening..."
"What?!"
Southern Italy sighed and said, "You idiotic *******! Italy is a guy!"
I froze. What? How? I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I looked at Italy with he- um... HIS shirt off, it's true... She's a boy.
I started to cry without warning and ran away. I couldn't bare it. I kissed him, I hugged him, I LOVED him! A guy! It's official...

Darkness has pressed up against our lattice windows. Classes start again in the morning. I’m being reabsorbed by college life. I’m a planner. I’ve been going over my syllabuses, repacking my bookbag, charging my power banks, checking and rechecking the assignments due tomorrow. After watching me prep for hours, Peter said, “You’re not going to the MOON.”

Peter asked me last Friday, “Are you excited for Monday? (I’ll find out if I get my fellowship.)
“I’m more excited about tonight,” I said, “I like going out on the town.”
“Wow,” he said, “you’re so different - not like the other girls at all.”
“No!” I said, laughing, “We’re stuck in a rut, we only go to one or two places, ever - if we go out at all. When people come to New Haven, I need places to take them - places besides pizza. At home, in Athens (Ga), I know twenty places - this is RESEARCH.” I assured him.

Peter settled back into his doctorate-fraternity-house yesterday. Tonight (Sunday), there’s music in the suite, the crazy noises of people and the comfort of returned friends. All the roommates are back, greeted with hugs and kisses, as they dragged in their luggage.

Lisa arrived with dinner, for 10, from Dominick's, in Manhattan. Spaghetti, salads, rolls, extra sauce - in six, small, suitcase-sized insulated bags. It was a logistical marvel. It’s only 90 minutes from Manhattan to the residence - we didn’t need to rewarm anything. “I KNOW we could have just eaten in the dining hall,” she said, shrugging, “call it zany - one last hurrah.”

Everyone seemed happy to be back. There were travel stories, questions, and laughter. Oh, and Zeppole, little powdered sugar custard desserts that seemed the worst for travel. Everyone seemed to have an eye on the clock though. By 11pm the suite was quiet. Très unusual.

Leong's watching TikTok on her laptop (as always) and she asks Lisa (a NYC girl) “Are you familiar with the the “downtown girl” aesthetic?”
Lisa’s dismissive, “Yeah, it just looks like Urban Outfitters grunge to me.”
Leong explains, “It includes headphones and it’s supposed to be a Lower Manhattan style.”
“Yeah,” Lisa snorts, “Because Greenwich Village and the Lower East Side are SO cohesive.”

Lisa considers herself an Uptown girl (like the song) even though 59th Street, where she lives, is the border between Uptown and Midtown Manhattan. I’m learning that these distinctions are culturally key to New Yorkers.

“And,” Lisa adds, “why would someone wear, and lug around, giant, clunky headphones when you can use AirPods??”
“Amen sister.” I proclaim and even Leong nods in agreement.

“Later, Sunny, Leong and I are on a study break, eating salads and talking about who we hope Yale invites to the next “Spring Fling” concert. We aren’t being realistic; we’re covering who we wish would come. I’d named Charlie Puth, “Kat-Tun!” Leong squealed (A Japanese boy band - apparently Chinese girls LOVE their boybands) and Sunny countered with Ed Sheeran.

“I don’t like Ed Sheeran,” I mumbled, making a yuck-face.
“Why no Ed?” Sunny gasps with shock (She’s a big Ed fangirl).
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “he’s a star by all measurable metrics,” I admit, “but,” I fade out.
“You want my theory on Ed hate?” Sunny offered, “He’s beyond talented vocally - whoever your favorite artist is, Ed’s probably not that far behind. He’s a stellar song writer and he’s making hit after hit; do you want my theory?”
“Too basic, too popular?” I guess.
“No, he’s not appealing to the gaze,” Sunny states.
“The gays?” Leong questions, stepping back into the conversation.
“No,” Sunny corrects, “the gaze - G-A-Z-E, he doesn’t try to look pretty all the time.”
“Ha!” I snort, “Gaze, I thought you meant gays too,” as Leong and I chuckle together.
“No,” Sunny laughs, “nothing like THAT. Ed’s just not trying to be a heartthrob, he knows that’s not his core strong point - and that’s why he’s discounted.”
“Like lesbians don’t comb their hair or wear makeup and wear pajamas to class” Leong observes, “they don’t want to attract the male gaze?”
“No, we’re not imbued by the male gaze.” Sunny states, “Ed just wants to lowkey.”

The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
****** it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it's time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.

The Minnesota night was cold;
Ask the man on the street:
It was so cold your words would freeze,
Drop, and break at your feet.
That didn't stop the Jensens at all--
Is that so hard to believe?--
From hosting their annual family feast
That frigid Christmas Eve.

One by one the families poured in
Bearing gifts and food.
Onkel Karl and Tante Inge
Arrived with their brood.
Onkel Jakob and Tante Hilde
And their three kids…Oh, dear!
If I listed all of the relatives,
It would take a year.

Of beer and wine and all kinds of spirits,
Of course, there were a LOT there.
Cousins Arne and Jan were already
Snockered when they got there.
Maybe that explains in part
The reason for the fight
That put a damper on the mood
On such a festive night.

The families had all sat down to dinner
And gazed upon the spread:
Potato dumplings, salads, sausage,
And cabbage, white and red.
Arne, staring at the roasted pig
With a look distant and glazy,
Made a funny joke about
Republicans being crazy.

All at once, the room grew quiet;
Nobody made a sound.
Everybody looked at Jan,
Who glared at Arne and frowned.
To change the mood, Pastor Olsen
Said, "Let's all say grace.
"?Just as he started, Arne got
A lutefisk in the face.

The roasted pig, the salads and lefse
Landed on the floor
As Arne and Jan pounded each other,
And wrestled, kicked, and swore.
The two were covered from head to foot
With gravy, potatoes, and fish.
The last straw was when they broke Grandma’s
Favorite rosemaled dish.

Suddenly, everybody heard
The sharpest, loudest BANG!
Followed by an echo.
Au! How their ears rang!
Grandma Liv was standing there
With a rifle in her hand.
No one was going to argue with her;
She was in command.

Above her was a hole in the ceiling;
Plaster speckled her hair.
The huge room was a total mess--
Food was everywhere.
"Scrape up what you can," she ordered.
"We're going to try this again.
Arne and Jan, just one word
And you two are dead men."

(Luckily there was no one upstairs
Above the dining room,
Though Onkel Odd was across the hall
When he heard the boom.
He was--and who wouldn't be--
So startled by the shot,
That the poor man jumped two feet in the air
And fell right off the ***.)

With dinner salvaged and the table reset,
Again they sat down to dine.
Grandma Liv sternly said,
"Now, family of mine:
Let's enjoy this Christmas feast.
Show me you are able
To have a pleasant evening and keep
Politics away from the table."

Having said that, she smiled and placed
Her rifle in her lap.
Not a soul dared to test her
For fear that she would snap.
Arne and Jan, battered and bruised,
Silently sipped their soup,
To Jan, Grandma said, "Din idiot!"
To Arne, "Nincompoop!"

The hole in the ceiling will remain
As a warning--or constant threat--
Of possible consequences lest
Anybody forget
That political talk at the dinner table
Was something they must nix,
For sausages, pig, lefse, *****,
And politics do not mix.

- by Bob B

Slow down & Go. Caution & proceed. Yellow & Green. My spirit overwhelmed during a journey to a land secreted by amber & emerald, yet all I can remember of my experience is a soul searching blue.
For a night I gazed into eyes as sapphire as the deepest parts of the Aegean Sea, Eyes that dried tears i had not yet cried & put untested trust within me, a stare so true.
I stood next to her looking at a land i hadn't seen before, looking over its entirety from the top of a cliff I couldn't help but notice this artistic nature was no equal to the smile gleaming beside me.
I had run probably the most exciting race of my existence that day yet my heart had never paced faster. My palms dripped, my stomach spinning more than a laundromat, what's going on inside me?
Seems I've been waiting my whole life to meet a stranger, a stranger that felt so familiar, a touch that had the comfort of my childhood home, I latched on to a mysterious hand, a hand never held & soon the bizarre magic had begun.
When faced with things that are seemingly to good to be true wonder and curiosity can dissipate the mind. You're faced with a yellow light. I knew it to be impossible yet the moment stared me in the eyes, twas like looking at a full moon next to the noon sun.
I found myself Lost in eyes so bewitching I felt unworthy to stare into them. My mind was absent, my body was absent. All of me that is left is my heart & my lips; my heart dashing as I was gifted with a savory kiss.
I can still feel that breathe gliding across my skin sending chills to my core. With every touch I could feel my heart speed up, with every exhale she seemingly gave me my next inhale, gave me life, gave me breathe, kisses of Primatene mist.
My soul was dominated by a type of cancer, a chivalrous cancer, killing the emotionless existence of me & soon she claimed something I didn't even know I was offering.
My heart became her trophy as I slept a sleep as peaceful as an empty beach, a sleep periodically interrupted by passionate *** that sent me deeper into slumber & I knew the minute I left this land I would begin suffering.
I know now time is not a prerequisite of passion. Passion is not about how long the fire has been burning but rather how intense and consuming the flame is. In 10 hours an eternity flashed before my eyes, & I saw a person filled with emotion I've tried so hard to summon for my past.
Slow down & Go. Caution & Proceed. Yellow & Green. I entered this land yellow, & by the time I left I was fully green, as green as the dollar in my pocket, the salads she ate, and the gorgeous Nature surrounding this unfamiliar land. Sometimes you have to ignore the slow down signal & drive through the light full blast.

"Yellow & Green" -Dash Pinder

I miss you
You always smelled like flowers
Like a woman
I wanted that scent
so I could breathe it in every day and feel you
picture you
put in on and become you
I still want to become you
You're perfect
Your ***** blond hair
Your moon-shaped glasses
Your shoulder bag
Your salads
Your smile
Your quick wit  
Those rebellious ears that stick out
Just like you do
In a crowd
The freckles and tiny hairs on your arms
Your slim fingers
So perfect
So immaculate
So precise
Your forest green cardigans and white dress shirts
Your tweed jacket and pants
Your ancient blackberry
Your voice
Smooth as milk and honey
Your exercises
Your books
Your mind

Your ring
Which you no longer wear
What do divorced men do with their rings?
Do they make love to them?

Wires from descending elevators whip tourists into buying more than they can afford,
A group of cleaners take worn sponges and grate them against sterile table tops

Tired eyes glaring, so many faces forced into a socially restrained concrete,
Sipping lukewarm coffee whilst a massive woman dives into a greasy papery bag

A waiting room for spiritually degraded human beings,
Who can no longer bear to hold a saucepan
One man’s anxious head makes a turn as he waits for his friends to turn up,
Everyone here sitting in transient seating that numbs the **** muscles,
The only thing that links us together

People making occasional eye contact with one another,
It’s so brief yet so uncomfortable
Another group of cleaners with gloves like loosened condoms
They move in like domestic vultures,
They pick apart every table in their sight

A young man runs and weaves past these tables with hot plastic against his ears,
He’s talking to people who are very far away,
He’s mentioning travel arrangements,
He’s keen to get away

Dried salads line rusted metal troughs
Day old dim sims bathe in ***** coloured oil
Drinks fizzle and foam out through people’s mouths and noses
They look diseased and shattered by everything

People eating here supposedly akin to cattle at feeding time,
However,
Cattle eat fresh grass in lush fields with fluffy clouds with a bright blue sky above
Where you sit,
Plastic plants lay in corners producing no oxygen

Cold metal chairs hit stained tiles as cleaners start packing up for the day
Asian women in the distance paint customers long claws,
They smile at each other’s colourful toes with gleeful envy

Though a large bird **** splattered window you see people down below rubbing their bellies,
They ride an escalator upstairs,
To spend time with you in heaven

Wiping irreversible grease into your trousers,
You throw garbage into a metal mouth and leave

2010 one last remark about Mom she’s never had faith or trust in me she always doubts redirects me when i was little she continuously blamed me accusing me of being sick needing a psychiatrist at age 20 my parents committed me for disciplinary reasons to the Institute of Living a psychiatric hospital in Hartford Connecticut in a locked ward for 4 months Mom and Dad discouraged my aspirations to succeed as a painter/writer arguing the impracticality of my decision they thumbs downed Bayli even today she undermines my efforts to love protect her she scolds me for asking permission from my cousin Chris to allow his son Maynard to fly down here and help me pack then drive up to Chicago so i might get to know Maynard on a road trip she instructs hire professional packers for a $100. they’ll be glad to help you pack Mom has always stood in the way of my choices decisions



1975 Chicago in his parent’s kitchen Mom offers the cannolis are fresh from Kanella’s Bakery or try the chocolate fudge cake it’s absolutely delicious Odysseus replies are you trying to fatten me up or **** me with sweets Mom flirtatiously teases i’ve always been about your ruination Odys



2001 Tucson Mom comes for visit at Thanksgiving in her early 80s walking proud yet painfully on displaced hips she is an inspiration to Odysseus her eyes are clouded with cataracts yet she sees life as an eternal optimist since 1920 the world has changed so drastically yet Mom has learned to accept many things she previously did not tolerate she lives prudently on modest fixed income her fingers are arthritically deformed but she was once a great beauty many men desired her Odysseus asks if it was difficult for Mom to lose the power of her physical desirability he noticed her good looks waning in her 50s she answers she sensed her  attraction going in her 70s she still possesses regal qualities and is quite socially charming she chatters a flurry of familiar names events that keep her busy she travels around by herself Mom’s spirit endures but in reality she drifts further away with each passing season she is delicate and has difficulty remembering she echoes a distant past in the early evening of Thanksgiving Day they sit at table of elegant yet rather staid dining room of Mom’s choosing at Arizona Inn she says it reminds her of the way things used to be she wears tasteful black linen slacks black pumps thin silk knitted black turtleneck with string of pearls gold earrings her blonde hair coiffured in same fluffy sprayed style it has been for 50 years in his heart he knows a part of her wishes her son was more like Tom Steinberg who was a senior when Odysseus was a freshman at River Woods Academy The Steinbergs and Mom are still friendly Tom is a successful investment banker with a wife and child living in Winnetka Mom nervously touches the pearl strand around her neck she says you know Mort Rock’s wife Phyllis died i was such a good friend to her at her funeral they read how she said i was her best friend she left me 10 lousy thousand dollars in her will she’s worth millions it’s eating me up inside i needed that money desperately i can’t stop thinking about it 10 lousy thousand dollars went immediately to pay off loans i’m going to sell my jewelry i don’t know what i can get in the spring i’ll put the apartment up for sale or try to get a reverse mortgage from the bank i never told you kids before i’m not in good shape Odysseus comments i feel terrible i wish so much i could help maybe Phyllis Rock suspected you and her husband maybe all those years you were her best friend she read it as guilt and obligation Mom you need to be more truthful Mom cuts in i never had *** with Mort Rock that man drove me crazy he was nuts for me Mom orders the traditional turkey dinner Odysseus orders the Macadamia nut encrusted Hawaiian fish the waiter brings price fixed appetizers little circles of toasted bread with lightly browned melted cheese tiny triangular cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches roasted watercress nuts wrapped in bacon and little hot dogs pierced with fluffy ended toothpicks Mom begins to gobble as she remarks to Odysseus  why do you want to wear your hair like that? you look like you escaped from the camps Odysseus asks what camps are you referring to Mom? she replies the Concentration Camps! you’re a good-looking man and you still have a full head of hair why do you want to shave it off i don’t understand i think you should move back to Chicago Tucson has done nothing to offer look at you you’re all alone you don’t have any friends come home and be your old self again he answers my old self you don’t get it do you Mom do you remember my commodity trading debacle or my 40th birthday or you and aunt Rita’s ceaseless corrections Mom smugly retorts what do you mean your 40th birthday don’t you get smart with me you should be ashamed of yourself why must you keep bringing up the past you need to let go of the past you go into such details details i don’t remember what does it matter now it’s history we only wanted what we thought was best for you you never listened you were only interested in yourself plenty of other kids get beaten and come through just fine you don’t know what it’s like to be a parent it tears me up inside you talk like you had nothing to do with it i can’t take this abuse from you anymore her misshapen fingers hands begin trembling as her voice emotes you think i don’t realize we made mistakes with you you think we were such monsters i wasn’t a good mother i was a lousy ***** is that what you think answer me what are you a bump on a log Odysseus sits stiff in chair his voice shrinks he just sits there his legs shake under table Mom says your father was quick-tempered we were under so much financial pressure maybe we did send you away too soon if i had to do it again i’d do it differently what does it matter now it’s 50 years ago forget the past what do you want from me what can i do he listens silently wondering if Mom seeks some kind of redemption can her conceit permit it he knows he is ******* her he does not mean to be uncomfortable with his muteness Mom continues you were a difficult child remember all the trouble you caused look at you you’re still a difficult man he questions Mom can you hear yourself you think i’m difficult she answers you think we were such terrible parents you grew up in a house of violence his thumb and forefinger nervously touch his chin as he replies no you were good parents i was a problem child different from you you afforded me a beautiful home and brilliant education i wanted to investigate life and learn and grow you didn’t know what to do with a child like that as much as she tries Mom never has been a comfort for Odysseus or he for her he inadvertently stirs her to worry or snap and she in turn unthinkingly disturbs him nevertheless they love each other the waiter brings out salads Mom ordered iceberg lettuce with thousand island dressing Odysseus chose the spinach salad he takes several bites Mom remarks use your salad fork not your dinner fork you know better than that suddenly it occurs to him Mom is more fragile than he he thinks to himself silently Mom i realize your life is closing in on you your mind drifts and you need to fake and cover-up more than ever do you want me to come home and take care of you i will take care of you then he remembers how miserable they were together during his throat cancer recovery in her 3 bedroom Lake Shore Drive condominium immersed in contemplation he pushes the fork through spinach leafs Mom says sit up in the chair and put a smile on your face she self-consciously peeks around the room having lost his appetite Odysseus looks down at napkin on his lap glances at half-eaten salad bowl he gazes up at Mom the waiter arrives making a pained smile he clears the salads then serves the entrees after the waiter departs Mom speaks Odys look at me when i’m talking to you i think about a lot of things i should have done after the fact sometimes even years later Max and i made a lot of incorrect choices when it came to you he cuts in Mom you don’t have to say anymore i love you always have loved you and know you love me too Mom says you know how much i appreciate your paintings you’ve made my life richer i‘ve always been supportive of you in fact i’m your biggest fan right Odys right? thank you Mom i’m grateful Mom says i’ve spoken with psychiatrists and they all tell me the same answer tell your son to forget it why must you dwell in the past what did we do so dreadfully wrong i don’t understand you’re a hard case i wish i could get through to you i hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us you’ll sleep better he questions you know about my insomnia restless sleep nightmares Mom says i can imagine Odysseus’s eyes begin to water Mom i love you i wouldn’t be who i am without you Mom says don’t get so emotional you sound weak take it from me you must be strong in life learn discipline and willpower i love you too son Odysseus wonders if maybe he agitates Mom because he is a constant liability lacking fiscal self-reliance deep down Mom is a giggling gossiping playful girl spoiled by her father she never wanted to grow up and be burdened with the tasks of parenthood what woman of rare beauty and charm would want to give up her privilege and freedom for some kid especially a *******-up kid maybe deep down Mom resents Odysseus he stares down at the Macadamia nut encrusted Hawaiian fish and silently prays he will be released from his life all his stupid sins regrets self-pity self-hatred his vain inconsequential existence



i move organize empty shelves cabinets drawers closets edit wrap tape pack wonder if moving back to Chicago is one more mistake heaped on top of a 1000 mistakes a 1,000,000 mistakes is going home to help Mom my biggest mistake ever i simply know i must try to protect my Mom

Shish kebabs
shish kebabs
that's all they have
Miriam said
as she sat
at the bar
of the base camp
in Morocco

I sat smoking
and drinking a Bacardi
they do salads
I said
in long French loaves
I have those
they’re healthier
and quite filling

she looked down
her nose
can't just have salad
she said
must have meat
of some kind

well don't look at me
I’m too skinny
for a decent meal

she laughed
and sat  
closer to me
at the bar
can you get me a drink?

sure what you having?

same as you

ok
Bacardi and coke it is
so I asked
the bar keep
for her drink  
and he went off
to get it
a cigarette hanging
from his lower lip
what did you think
of the belly dancer
last night?
I asked

not my thing
she said
but I see you liked it

yes it was a good experience
heard about them
but never
seen one before
last night
I said
the bar keep
brought her drink
and I paid him
he went off
and I said
how did you sleep?

not good
I had Moaning Minnie
with me
and she moaned
because I came in
the tent at 3am
what time
do you call this?
she moaned
some of us
are trying to sleep
she moaned on
for ages after
I think she was moaning still
in her dreams
I suppose you slept?
she said

yes I crept in my tent
and fell asleep over
my suitcase
I was too **** tired
to move it
and the ex-army guy
was zeroed

lucky you

not really
I would rather
have had you there
than him
snoring like some bear  

what makes you think
I’d sleep with you?

you did the other night
after the beach party

she sipped her drink
and looked
at the menu card
that was different
she said

yes it was
I said
we went in your tent
and Moaning Minnie
came in
and turfed me out

Miriam smiled
if she'd come
five minutes earlier
she'd have got
an eyeful

yes that
would have been
a bundle of laughs

Miriam ordered
a salad roll
and sipped
her Bacardi and coke  

I sipped mine
and enjoyed my smoke.