Some Mornings

Take your breath away. 

Moving On

Jake left quickly, grabbing his hat, a jerrycan of gasoline, and a handful of matches. He didn't have a plan, just an idea of what needed to go away. The house, the barn, the pickup truck that didn't run anyway. Let the tax man have anything else that was left. There wasn't any insurance so there wouldn't be much of a investigation. If the old man was still alive, he'd be real proud.    

The Bargain

She's drawn to red

like blood, like roses, like chili peppers

She's hungry

for love, for understanding

for the space to see

who she was, who she might become

She dreams deeply, most nights

hoping to avoid the chill of nightmares

the fever of fear

When she awakes and the sun is out

she feels guilty

afraid she is not living up 

to the bargain she made

with the devil or an angel

she's never sure which

The bargain she made

to trade control for security

to trade freedom for family

to compromise, compromise, compromise

Hey Alabama

Where'd you learn to dance? 

In some down home honky-tonk

between the thighs of some sweet young thing?

What you hidin' behind that beard Alabama?

Lookin' like a storefront lawyer

lookin' for an easy mark.

You kiss real good for a tall man.

Soft and clean

not like some cracker.

More Choices Please!

Chelsea

Leaning against the wall in front of the hotel, they linger for hours, watching the late-comers, the one-night stands, couples in the city for the weekend. A prostitute across the street walks back and forth. They wonder which one is her john and which one is her pimp. They cling ever so softly to this fragile moment, afraid to disturb the delicate balance. She looks into his pale unlined face and wants this night to last forever. When the dark is almost gone, she leans to touch his cheek, takes his hand and leads him up to the room, to the waiting bed. They lie quietly, fully clothed. She holds him carefully, their mouths touch. Afraid to disturb the delicate balance, they kiss with eyes closed, without longing, for all she ever wanted is already there. Brackish light fills the room, they drift in dreamless sleep. And when he’s gone and the day is like a trance, she feels older but no wiser.

Thank Goodness

For sunset, else I'd never quit cleaning the garage!

Always

Always watching over her shoulder, waiting for the next crisis, the knock at the door, the ambulance screaming through the neighborhood. Always waiting for the long lost mother to drop by, the phone call from the sheriff, the pound to arrest her dog and lock him up for life. Always hoping she can outlive it all, find peace (if not salvation), and meet her end unafraid.

Grandmother

Anna, tall, sturdy, brown from years in the sun, 

guardian of my hopes and dreams,

turning the soil her life's work,

the promise in the seeds and twigs her religion.

Child of her child, I'd follow in her steps  

from morning to day's end, when,  

her voice coarse with age and cigarettes, 

yet soft with hope, 

she'd take me in her arms and sing.

Beside a Grave

marked by a square of wood and tin

she kneels to brush away the dust

 

looks out over miles of flowers grown wild

sees across the years to her own grave

May Day Play Day

Artwork by Maureen Shockey

But no play for me. Not yet. I'm spending my day retrieving artwork that has been boxed and stored for 5 years. Some is damaged (leaky storage unit), none beyond repair. All bring back memories from the past: places I've lived, jobs I've had, friends and lovers, good times and bad. Not a bad way to celebrate Beltane.