Friday, October 24, 2008

coffee shopping and pizza hopping

Anna was surly the kind of girl to find corners in round things.
Like those small, reject pieces on the edge of the pizza when it is cut into squares. She favors the reject pieces and nibbles those first with her fingers while scanning for the best middle piece to save for last.

It was her quirky simplicity that attracted the artsy types of men and the most sophisticated oddballs.

Tim was the oddest of them all.

He had never pitched a tent or climbed a mountain, but he sure did know a few things about survival.
His knack for striking up conversations with the old ladies in the grocery stores was once an admirable trait.
Until it began consuming most of his wednesdays, tuesdays and sundays after church.

Anna first noticed Tim in the parking lot near a Aunt Ida's bakery on the corner of 172nd and Tennista Ave.
She was jogging along minding her own heatbeat when she stopped to stare in his direction.
Tim was stunning. He was dressed as plain as the local folks but carried himself with great confidence. It was impossible not to notice his broad shoulders and light eyes.

to be continued

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

one more thing

I still don't think it's fair.

K. Cat

Pointing fingers at knife wounds

I'd have to tell the story again to make it clear to you.

It was a nagging urgency, a familiar feeling feeling and even I couldn't talk me out of it.
So I had to say it.

I knew I'd be "sorry" eventually.

So I took a seat and read deeper into my past

Once I found It, It flattened me immediately. I shook my head in disgust but It was as clear as the scars on my back.

He existed.

And that fact alone
made me want to vomit.

Finally did find out what it is about me.
There is security in turning around...
never looking back...
getting stabbed repeatedly...
I"ll never tell.

I'll run.
Away from the pain of being found out...
left defeated again...
left spitting out the teeth that hold my tongue in it's proper place...
left standing again on the feet I need to carry me away from you.

I swear I will not crawl to your feet exposing the back I've turned
close enough for you to see the scars you've left me with.

But I will go through with this nagging amend I need to make.

And hope to stop punishing the rest of em who are clearly not holding knives.

I am the grudgeholder pointing fingers and exposing my scars.
stirring my own poison pot as if it will make you die.

The fun fact about being left...
is knowing I will still be standing
and with that...

There can be no more fear.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

seeing ghosts

By the time I looked away she had already stunned me standing, remembering her, within arms reach.
It had been a long winter since I'd last seen her.

In nine months I had grown something gorgeous inside even I couldn't identify.

It remains nameless.

But there is this guilt...

Shame is just another familiar feeling and it doesn't touch this that I can't explain...

She was a panamainian princess who no one could reach to save.

And I saw her looking at me, all this time later, in a park, in the daylight,

her ghost will haunt me. because it knows

I wanted it too.

I live with this gratitude, guilt and I'm full of it now. Call me Chickenshit

I can't hide what I carried inside.

grows gorgeous inside
AFTER you live through the loss and circumstance

I wish she's seen it.
Before she became this ghost I stood in front of flaunting the lesson I learned in the nine months it has taken for me to grow my own life...

(eh, ill have to work on this too raw to put into words.)

Wednesday, July 23, 2008


Monday, November 19, 2007
Current mood: confused


Stu drives one of those mustangs like Sally had when she turned 18.
His testosterone preceded him into the room and I gasped at the sight of him. With a chuckle, cherry coke on my sleeve and tears on my face, I nearly hit the floor.
Oh fuck. Duck, me duck.
Acrid doesnt describe the smoke. It masked the jack something or other, but only if you'd not smelled him before.
I have no inspiration, I am full of shit, and I have fifty bucks I'd like to give to a male prostitute to come play with my hair and listen to me sniffle. Then I'd never have to see him see me normal. If I'd only leave home.
Its been a good year since I've even been this way.
I missed me smelling him.
Like I missed me smelling the floor.
He never existed.
And I am nothing but a lump in a chair.
Do I exist?

Thursday, June 5, 2008

If I'd a known then, my friend, what could I say?

It could have been easier.
But who'd a thunk.
I think that was about all she said before we took off for the coast.

Her hair had a bit more bouncy shine then and mine was more red than blond, but we had a good time despite our shady differences.
I never knew how to explain the easy way I use to make things difficult.
So I never did.

Until he came along.
He wrote it in a letter sometime after 4 am on a Tuesday.
And I am trying to pick myself up.

If I knew how to "remember to let anyone in"... where will I go when they leave?
I swore I'd never, ever, not now, not ever, not again. I promised myself happiness at any cost.

And the price just keeps getting higher.

I swear I've not forgotten to remember to know how.
to put it off one day at a time
until i just cant get hurt anymore.

Friday, May 23, 2008


Had I known I could be this happy, I may not have cried...
But I am uninspired to write...

I'll be back.

Love yas.

Saturday, April 19, 2008

ghosts of relationships past

January 3, 2008 7:35 PM
ghosts of relationships past

Current mood: busy
Category: Writing and Poetry

Like a ghost he came and went.
through the wall we had once been up against.
It never seemed so cold at the time...
I never gave into the this that had become us...
poems unnoticed and songs unsung
go unnoticed

i feel nothing
and that is everything again.

maybe its when the weather is bad
i cant get any colder than the wall I've erected to lean on
to replace him.

I felt once.
and a few more times.
some heat. a taste.
the blood on my lip.
a bitter phone call and old marijuana.

i have nothing.
and that is everything.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Just deserts

Saturday, October 06, 2007 8:27 PM -
Current mood: lonely
Category: Writing and Poetry

Just Deserts
Half of her doesn't even exist.
She stormed in as if she owned the place. All bitchy and flawless.
I rage with jealousy, it consumes me, these perfectly normal wretched beasts of bitches who have it all.
I mean come on. I make some damn good chili. I may not have saltines but I do have tortilla chips with sour cream to scoop it up.
In my opinion, what I have to's way better.
But I'd get some crackers if I'd have a reason to. I've got grape kool-aid to share, and a half a bottle of merlot I opened a week ago.
I'll try. To be better than her.
I must have something desirable to offer, something to bring.
I know I got it...
Something that someone, somewhere can put some effort into even though I'm not willing to offer anything sweet later.
So she can waltz in and take over. Offer more and take control.

I'll wait to share more than dinner, thank you.
I dont know, im just lonely and wish i could snuggle on my couch, but all I was to anyone is...

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

A new reason to put this day in history

It sure does feel good to be out and about with my peeps again.There is life after loss. Life after this last mid Novemeber. Life after we put him to rest.March 2, 2004.
Today I will open my fortune cookie that I got on my way to the funeral 4 years ago.I will go on with my life without guilt because this life is fantastic. its up to me how much i really lose. I always have wanted to be alone on this week of the year. But why? No one understands?

Bullshit. I couldnt have been more wrong and it exploded right in my face, on my shoes and all over my scrubs.
there is life all around us.
Life after great parties, up all night, daydreaming while I should be sleeping, innocently snuggling with strangers and

a normal call shift the morning after can remind me of this fact of life...
Mom, Dad, Unborn child.
too MANY LIVEScan change. Like that.

And I you dont get to do it again. But if I can look back at yesterday knowing I did my best for total strangers. can I say I have done much for those I love?
I didnt think I could do it alone, or with anyone these last few months. I didnt know how to lean, to trust, to grieve so amny things all at once, to know that you guys would be there tomorow if I could not laugh, could not feel my own face, I could not offer anything but little me. So I went away until I could figure out what tomorrow might hold. I thought I'd come back when I'm all better, less stressed and had something to be proud of again. I forgot to offer myself my own tomorrow. waitingwaiting for validation.
But now I know. And now its me again. And I feel just as loved as ever. Showing up alone and proud of it. Happily being fabulous, embracing life despite loss. I couldnt hide from the pain, but I certainly could run from it.
I learned that life happens to EVERYBODY, at all hours of the day. And all we can do is hope we have enough people to operate if needed.
I made a big mistake. One that I had not yet made. And all I can do is look forward and keep my chin in Gods hands if I cant hold it up on my own.
Because being swept away doesnt make the hurt go away for long. Eventually the hurt has to come out. And no one else knows how to hold my head up but me. Those who love me, really do, no matter what kind of crisis I think I have to hide. It's ok to let them see through me.
Thanks to everyone who knew what it means to grieve, to hide, to run away with strangers, to come back when they cant fix it, to everyone who knows how to make good nachos, to the kid who played with my hair without me asking.
and to everyone who listened to my day yesterday until my cell phone died. At least that was all...
I've never in all my life been so scared and so happy in that order in the same two minutes.And everyone made it out alive.
Even me.
"Plan your graduation party with Leeann Chin Delivery."
"You have no problems in your home that you will not be able to solve."

Friday, April 4, 2008

Happy Fucking new year (2003)

Standing on the outside is colder than the feelings I've never had for you.
Frozen in time fluttering
Frostingless flakes falling
like my hands to my sides.
Confetti clumps, soft brown ringlets
of hair
bruising with impact
this memory floats slowly to the ground
sinking with me into the bright white blinding.
I draw.
Conclusions, images, powder in your nose.
I'd seen through your dirty fingers
and my bleeding, pleading elbows.

Lying, so they say,
where I belong.
Wringing my hands in the snow
all I see now
now clumps of hair in my hands.
I can't get rid of this...

And I am
an object stunned
blinking, thinking, wishing you away
This repulsive friendship has gone terribly wrong.

but its gone like the high you are chasing

*This story is not based on actual events. So don't freak out*

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Out from under the bus

She had one of those contagious smiles.
Filled with sarcasm and guilt.
The kind of smirk that made me wonder if she had more to offer than a handshake.

We walked in silence, tiptoeing around the subject.
Our paths had crossed this street several times
while we had worn one another's shoes.
That was how close we had been at twenty.

This time it was going to get harder, the streets were now concrete.
There would be no what if, how about now, how about never agains.
This was us, in our own shoes, forgetting what it had been like to walk in the other's.

I'm not sure what brought her here in the rain seventeen years later.
Her lips were just as familiar as the jasmine in her hair. I wanted her to keep me entertained in the rain.
Away from it all.
On the safer side of the street, she and shes and theys could never splatter me on this new road. I've walked too far...

"We just didn't have enough time to stand under the streetlights waiting for busses to run us down." she whispered.
"So we threw ourselves at them, one after another, just waiting for them to slow down to see us." I never did care to look at where they all were going.

She came to tell me she had missed this bus. It was only a matter of time before there will be another.
So we stood shaking hands politely in the rain, learning lessons we had learned before.
It is softer on the other side of the road.
So we can relax for now, patiently, in the grass watching the world full of stinking buses pass us by.
we have so much more time than this.

crap in a hat i have to finish this thought later.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

clips of my 26th year

9:20 AM - clips
Current mood: betrayed

It was one of those cold days in the park. We stood in a puddle of melting snow and smoked with certainty. We had a true dislike for each other despite our history.
His sister really couldnt do anything about it. She remained hopeful we would give it a 37th try. But we were smokers now. And that was devastatingly as disgusting as the way he felt about me.She had hoped we would have been one of those happily ever after stories. The kind like she was living. In a house with a fence and a dog that shits on the deck. She had one of those boyfriends who never cleaned up the shit.
But I just don't believe anyomore.
I use to dream of all the things that little girls dream of.
I never knew what it was I did differently than the rest of em. Why I couldnt' bring us to succeed.
Why I had to be the fool that fell face first.
So I had to distract the others from staring at my broken face.I did it by blowing smoke in everyones ill little faces and taking jabs at the lives they lived.
I had changed. I no longer dreamt the dreams that we have to start hiding in our 25th year. No more hope for homes with fences and white dresses. No chance at the kind of comsuming uncomfortable inconvenient, all a girl can think about before she falls asleep kind of love.
Jealousy is the root of all evil and it was all I held on to. Angry that I had thought I had what they flaunted. I'm so sick of all the rings and shiny things. I'll pay someone to just hold my cold little hand and lie to me again.

26. jaded. cold. alone. bored. hopeless.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Shoe fetish

4:18 AM - Why Adam P. says I'm not worthy of finding true love
Current mood: cold
Category: Writing and Poetry

I remember the embarassment. Of being found out.
To know that someone has seen the places I hide what is most private to me.
I'll come out with everything. My pj's are under my pillow and I am shy when i brush my teeth. I try not to chew doritos in anyone's ears and I swear to tell the truth.
I'll always want to explain myself. To everyone. I'll be found out eventually. I'll start telling everyone everything and hope for the best. I am the daughter who is most hated. I am the failure the fraud and the whore for wearing red hand me down shorts when I was ten. Even though it was my mother who chose my clothing, I was a whore for putting it on.
I use to reach for her in my sleep. And cry when she was not there. I would wait up all night waiting for her to come home and sleep the moment she walked in. Was it comfort or fear? I'm finding out it was both.
I was the girl in class who could not explain my eyes. Who dared not borrow your pencil.
I'll never ask for anything I cannot do myself. I'll never set myself up for that kind of dissapointment and I'll swear to tell you the truth. and duck when you find me out.
I'll find excuses for your every inexcusable behavior and somehow it will all be my fault.
Thank God for my life and thank god that I am here. Thank god that I KNOW without a doubt that anyone I will EVER love will not be there for me tomorrow.
these are the examples I've been shown
take me or leave me. accept me or leave me.
Either way you'll all leave me.
The person you see does not exist. I am nothing but a constant reminder of sadness and my fears are on my sleeves. My loyalty never bends, breaks or fades I'll tolerate anything and it will be all I know.
I have a shoe fetish.
Because I have spent my whole life looking down on myself

In God's hands

Saturday, November 17, 2007
7:01 PM -
everything under my chin
Current mood: guilty
Category: Writing and Poetry

its an appropriate amount of numb. A measurable tangible amount of non feeling. or not. god i dont know what i feel.
Suicide? god no, how could you, she didnt its not true. please take it back.

If I werent numb already I would be by now. What am I?
There is nothing brushing against my face again.
nothing against the cheek i cant feel and the chin i cant hold up on my own, i am melting into my own tingling nerving nonexistance.
I have no one to sit with me while I am still.
I am desparate to feel it. Hit me, once twice or six times.
Pinch me awake to function. Roll me over and let me breathe. Give her back.
I am at a loss for words. I feel too much loss to actually feel.
now what
I picture myself standing in front of someone, anyone taller than I.
Standing with my face in his hands looking down.
The numb side of my jaw cupped in the small palm of his right hand.
My hair just brushing the top of his hand as he holds my ear between bony fingers.

All I know is, there is a thumb on my face, and I should be aware of so much more.
And he becomes you, as I becomes one defiantly fragile part of we.
And we are just an energy waiting for your love to keep us.

We stand at her grave with empty eyes hoping to take it all in. This bigger picture, this bigger part of your plan. Can you visualize the guilt on our shoulders?
I never want this honest moment to end.
See right through me as we become we all.
Hold us there until I can feel the pressure to crumble to my own knees before you.
Come with me to the floor and hold me there.
Hold my chin up while I have no thoughts. Feel my warm tears?

Take the pain of those years I've seen and those I could not, can not, hope to not have to--- help. God help her, and we and him, her again, us and I.
We need you right now.

yesterdays mascara

Tuesday, November 20, 2007
8:11 AM -
yesterdays mascara
Current mood: angry
Category: Life

i dont recognize her.
this person i saw this morning.
swollen lips, red face, drippy nose and soaking wet sleeves.
he told me, in a song, then i decided not to listen.
im still trying to take off yesterdays mascara
with my fingers.
because now every one of my childhood memories, about all things beautiful, has been taken away
i have nothing left but sadness.
guess i better get to looking up those directions.
cuz i gotta get thru this alone.
but at least even i dont recognize me to notice.

Saturday, March 1, 2008


Wednesday, February 06, 2008
4:43 PM - fragility
Current mood: selective
Category: Writing and Poetry

Bruce carries my comfort, like sand, in the front pocket of his blue jeans with the lint and shiny pennies.

When he thinks about it for awhile, he lets me admire what it would be like to hold the comfort with him.
I get lucky enough to carry a few grains of sand for a few days at a time. Just long enough to for me to feel it, remember it, crave it.
Then he takes it all away with short notice and cold hands.
Sometimes, I get to carry the pennies, too. But most of the time I get lint with a little comfort in there somewhere. It's up to me to pick it all apart.
He tells me the pennies are lucky.
And lucky is how I feel.

Until I remember.
That is not all he's said.
I feel like it slips little by little through the seems of his pants. If only I could hold it for awhile and keep it safe... I'd take such good care...
But he said he doesnt want this much.
And I should really listen.

So I watch admirably instead.

He has those careful, quick fingers. They linger in his pockets while I wait like a loyal pet. Hopeful. Worried. Consumed with the anticipation of probably, maybe, sometime soon, and possibilities. There seems to be so much more than dirty rocky gritty *sand*. Why let it slip?
Soon it'll be all over the floor!
Sweep. Sweep. It's so darn beautiful it makes me ill.

Each time he digs deeper, he loses a little bit here. A little bit there. A Little more on the floor and I'm still watching. Sweeping it under another rug.
I wonder how many times I will watch wordless and increasingly skeptical.
I sure hope we can learn to share soon.
I'm certainly not going to become a maid who ends up collecting lucky pennies hoping to get lucky for once.
I'm looking for more.

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Monday, February 18, 2008

Faith vs. Cancer

Our lives can change so dramatically at any time.
I realize I wasted so much time being angry with God for givng my hero cancer.

It wasnt the cancer part that pissed me off.
It was watching a kind, gentle, perfect, loving, and worshiped human being be tortured for nearly 4 years. What kind of god DOES that?
But it was, and I imagine it still is, part of some plan. It took me THIS long to believe again. And I promise to hold strong.

I wish I could reach out to my cousins who are near the same age as my sister and I when my Dad was diagnosed. Just like us, they got this mega bomb dropped on them at such a time of growth and change.
No child/adult should have to figure out what it is like to be alone to pick out houses, change furnace filters, cradle their first baby, get married, get divorced two years later, blah blah, whatever it is...all alone.
But some of us do. and will. And we will be ok. It's finally ok with me that that IS my life. That is REALITY. I accept it now. I am not alone. I am just ON MY OWN.
50 is too young. and 42 is way too young. And it is just not fair.
Anyhoo. I know what they are going to go through together. fucking chemo. popsicles jello. car rides. haircuts.
Their mother is about to go through hell. And I hope it can get better. I hope they can keep their faith and not end up like I was.

We dont chose who come and go from our lives. We can, however, chose who touches us.
I wish I hadnt spent so much of the last..... shit....
7 years so unbelievably angry that I didnt let anyone touch my cold pissed unforgiving little bitchy heart.
I wish I could have held my faith and known I could be this cozy and warm, even in tough times.
I wish there were a way to pass that faith on to my family, without preaching and being a wierdo.

So i'll keep it in my actions and in my heart.
Hope pray give hugs be warm listen
and most of all
dont get angry

eh.. i just needed to ramble. ive got so much more to say.

so ill pass for now.
thanks. for all your prayers over the years.

to everyone i love, i love you.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

How far I've come in a few months time...

4:31 PM -
another monday night in Alanon
Current mood: anxious
Category: Life
I am looking forward to mondays now. Step two is a struggle thus far. I am to "Come to believe that a power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity."
As I go through the motions of writing my second step, I wonder... what would it be like to be "restored to sanity". ?
Do I know of any home that was "sane"? Will I freak out if spontaneously there is no crisis to endure, no reaction but simply action on my part? I am so used to bouncing off of others' actions and reacting to them I have no use for down time with others?
It is uncomfortable to me to just be still and calm. My mind wanders and I create crisis to get out. I always keep an out...I always need to stay one step ahead of the alcoholic, or anyone who I care about. Constantly thinking about their next move, or my next defense strategy. I'm exhausted.
This behavior is not working. It has never worked. It sabatoges my relationships. All of them. I need help. And I turn to my God. Yes I really did say that.
My solitude is my calm. The defenses I have errected are no longer useful and I must find a quiet medium. I have to leave the house. I have to be with those I care about, I want to keep them. Somethimes I am really good at getting out. Esp if it will be a busy time to focus on anyone other than myself. Concerts, people watching stuff involving business...I cant stand alone time with a person. I hate any form of intimacy. I'll never be comfortable. Will I? How will I know what is safe and when?

Yup. I know I will freak out and think the world is ending if all is peaceful and oh, God do I dare say, 'sane'. I must keep moving and keep working on this part before moving on.... The steps are in this order for a reason.
I hope that by thinking it out and opening myself for constructive criticism, I can guide myself, be guided and of course make sence to another.
Here goes,
I do believe, that with the help and trust of my higher power, I can find peace in my life. I know that after these last few months I had adopted some slogans and incorrporated them into my thoughts and I have, in many situations, used this new way of thinking.
I have taken some, not much, of my own moral inventory, done some 'cleaning out the closet' and evaluated my friendships closer than ever. Years ago, I decided I no longer wanted to be involved in the lives of those who use drugs, drink heavily or gossip frequently about others.

I want peace. I WILL find this! I want to keep friends, allow them to be themselves. I want to make funny faces, laugh out loud, express myself, and I want to be intimate, in any way, with another human being.
I don't need to rescue or look after drinkers anymore. whew. I dont feel like others really think I will just be boring if I want to the zoo rather than sit at a bar.
Anyhoo, I am not sure how strong my work has been on the second step but I am willing to move forward, again. (i flopped on my face at step 4 last time and started over)
I do believe that a power greater than myself is the only way I can find guidance and peace to come to know sanity. And by that time, I will not get scared of serenity.

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

New Years Eve in Alanon

It has been brought to my attention that some folks who loved my blogs on myspace, are missing my alanon writings I use to keep private and for only a few readers.
I will try to incorporate a few of these blogs into my new blogging patterns.
Here is some insight to what it is about, before I begin. I never thought I would be the person to say, this has changed my life. That this has (enter cliche b.s.) in such a way that I KNOW ALREADY I will commit my life, "One day at a time" to these steps. If anyone could read into my past, they will know, I can't commit to going to breakfast tomorrow until it is tomorrow and someone makes me go. I loved my solitude. I depend on no one, no program and certainly no God. Just me.
I had often blogged on myspace about alanon and it's influence. There is much work to do. A lifetime of thinking and changing. Changing my thinking for my lifetime. Changing the life I once loved so much as I began to see the patterns of the relationships I chose...(we wont go there today)

The reading that night left me feeling that, just like every monday for the last 7 months, I didn't want to go. But I knew it would offer some insight. Some direction. Some serentiy. And as usual, I was glad I drug myself out into the cold to make myself better. One day at a time.

Here is the reading in a nut...
" I realized I was listening to Alanons words of hope - hope I began to claim as my own, if I was willing to work the steps. When I felt boxed in by despair, you assured me that no situation is ever hopeless and I could find contentment, despite my mothers drinking." (OMG true)
"When I felt worn out from replaying scenarios in my mind, (me? replay, sha!) I could put my problems in their TRUE perspective and they would begin to lose their power to dominate." (they f-in did!)
"I could take what I'd like and leave the rest." ( of the slogans steps, advice, words)
"You pointed out my choices, when all I'd known were rules and appearances. You claimed that you loved me, even when I HATED myself, and that I would learn to LOVE YOU, too. You offered me hugs, phone numbers, sponsorship, and I'd hadn't 'earned them'
I didnt know what a loving interchange was.
"I didnt know what a loving interchange was, until you took time to SHOW me."
Thanks to alanon, for the persistent repetition of these hope filled words and ACTIONS.
Gradually they came true for me.
They really really did.

"If you try to keep an open mind, you will find help. You will come to realize that there is no situation too difficult to be bettered and no unhappiness too great to be lessened.

And with all this that I have learned, I have made it through the toughest year I have ever had, ever.
And I know love. Real, unearned, unconditional, guiltless, effortless returned love.

Thank God.
I am writing with tears welling, gratitude doesn't begin to touch what I am feeling. I didnt think I deserved to be truely accepted, to be held without guilt, to be able to call for help, to laugh and cry without judgements and mostly to be understood and guided. All without the promise of anything in return.
I could go on all night...
but i wont.
Its only the beginning!
I let it begin with me by letting go and letting God one day at a time.

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Excerpt from the Salt War

I might be bored. And making shit up.
This is what I am thinking right now, and no, i will not be editing. this is me raw. and rambling for no reason other than... i am soooo freaking bored. pen to paper, no looking back...

So if I am just walking around, pushing envelopes and watching them bend, am I holding anything?
Today I ventured out into some freezing rain and it was freezing.
I was craving a shiver when I saw her there. Laughing to herself, kneeling down playing with pebbles. I thought, "Why is she kneeling in the rain on the ground?"
I got my shiver as i glanced over my shoulder and it was you again. But , there was no one there. It was only my hair, a shadow there where I thought you were.
And back to she, with salt crusted a good, well, 4 inches or so up her legs. Dried on to the black polyester of her pants just dragging in the street across sidewalks, torn and worn tight molded to her like my hands had been just days before on her hips.
Laughing. Infatuated.
I am guessing she had found something there on the ground. Something other than rain and broken glass or hearts like ours just laying there. Being run over and over and salted like tears on our cheeks. Does she wear this salt on her face like her pants, til wash? huh?
I love her, this full lippy, laughy, hippy, giggly carrier of pebbles and things to put them in.
I have no idea what i am saying anymore.

My point is.. I saw her stand up and put something in the envelope. The one I thought I had in my seemingly empty pockets full of change...
And it was big, and lumpy. Not a coat button or a zipper, something she held close to her heart that day and she walked away while I waited for the rain to freeze.

Dead quiet

Wednesday, May 17, 2006 4:17 PM
Current mood: drained
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers


I was holding my breath until the sound of the silence startled me.
It was so quiet I was unsure if it had ever happened at all. Sort of like a bubble bursting into the air. "Pop". So sudden and spontaneous.
Then there was blood all over and beeping and metallic things crashing, falling like the pressures in still veins. And then there was nothing at all.
Like she never happened at all. Like not a single one of us were really... "there" or here.
And no one really "comes back".
"Pop". We blink and we are done. Don't hold your breath..

To everyone I love.. I love you.
<3 Enjoy the sunshine of today.