I used to live
(and I can say that now)
in a town that I hated
where the police were
perpetually parked in church
parking lots
ready to mete out divine Justice
to those who drive a little too quickly
and the people smoking outside the bars
go silent and glare as you walk by
giving the impression that
you were the topic of conversation
and even though you know it's not the case
you still watch your back
lest you be dragged through
the mud of the community Facebook pages
because this is God's country
and you can be exorcised
for cheap

Its quiet on the lake
at almost one
in the morning
where the sway of the trees
in front of the stationary lights of
the island themed bar
across the way
gives the impression of endless dancing
despite the bar nearing
closing time
and the guests yell a little less loudly
out of respect for the night sky
where I find myself staring at the stars
instead of the bobbers in the water
because
even though fishing is great,
there's always
something better to catch
out there in the cosmos

We have all this
technology in the world
and yet we still haven't found
a way to dampen the pain
of putting my best half
on a plane
bound for the other side
of the country

I thought about you
again today as I drove
past that one street sign
that says
"Victoria Road"
and I've always wanted to
steal
that for you
and I don't know why
and today I nearly did
but that's probably because I had
a little too much of this nice Merlot
(with lots of oak notes, or so the label tells me)
while celebrating a grandparent's 80th birthday
and I just thought I'd let you know you crossed
my mind today
before I go try and sleep off the wine buzz
before work this evening

All I remember is that we were at the farmer’s market. You see, the easiest way to figure out a time period is to note which vegetables were in season at the time, but unfortunately, I was too busy looking at my love to take note of the produce lined up neatly in rows on the stands; though there was a sample of pickled asparagus that threatened to change my life for the better. The love of my life was blessed with an extra bone in her foot and the tendons, of course, immediately wrapped around this extra bone and caused a great deal of pain for her, and as such she had to wear a BOOT. I walked, and she clomped along the street through the farmers market and because her physical detriment was noticeable in the air, we were surrounded by a group within minutes. “Can I pray over your foot please?” their leader had said. Although, I heard it spelled PREY, given my general distrust of people who go to farmer’s markets to spread religion. Before I realized what was happening, the followers of this woman had formed a circle around my fiancé and blocked me out as the woman gave a full performance invoking Jesus to heal the extra bones in this world and there was clapping and there was staring from other farmer’s market patrons who couldn’t be bothered to swoop in and save us. It’s years later and the extra bone is still in her foot.

I’m tucked away nicely in the JC section of the library. Apparently, they use the Library of Congress method of categorizing and organizing the library literature here instead of the Dewey Decimal system. I suppose it’s one way to set this community college campus apart from the uneducated townsfolk who still want numbers to tell them where to find their books. Looking at the shelves nearby, I see a great deal of books about dictators and rights and privacy, so I guess this section of the library is all politically charged. Which would explain this headache and general feeling of frustration, but that also could just be from the procrastinating I can’t stop doing. Strangely enough, I have been blocked into this row by a librarian who has her cart of endless knowledge parked in the middle of the political aisle of books. I don’t know where she ran off to, but I’m starting to get antsy. I mean, what if there’s a fire? All these books aren’t exactly flame retardant and the last time I had to jump through a wall of fire it wasn’t the best experience. I imagine these stacks of knowledge burning and I wonder how much it would be missed. There’s a book here titled “Management in the Public Service: The Quest for Effective Performance” and I can’t even tell you what the first page says because the second my eyes landed on the words, I fell asleep. But hey, the librarian is back and she moving her cart of ideas out of the way so that I may procrastinate in peace.

"Kiss me, Judas,
for I do not wish
to be alone"

the Dramamine
won't stop the vertigo
when one is floating
to this heaven
where someone must've
left the thermostat up
because it's a touch
warmer than usual
around these parts