It seems the whole world is cancelled due to Corona virus. People are wearing masks and gloves, memes about washing hands are everywhere, the news is full of doom and gloom…
Times like these are when my OCD smiles smugly to itself and yells “I TOLLLLDDDDD YOOOOOUUUUUU!”
Lying together after lackluster sex,
two hedonists using each other
for cheap and fleeting thrills,
we smoke cigarettes you stole
from the gas station counter
after charming the cashier
with your lightless smile
and counterfeit warmth.
Cancerous clouds curl
along the too-close walls,
blur what little gray light
struggles through the window
as you talk about
some future I cringe from
even envisioning
for this so-called relationship
based on what amounts
to drunken mistakes
and my inability to say no
to your sweet sweet drugs:
I don’t think I can have
a serious relationship with you
unless you
can open
your heart
to Christ.
I wrote the first poem during my poetry class in the fall of 2018, when my stepdad was showing mild signs of (read: successfully hiding) having dementia . The second one is more recent. This is me coming to terms with shit through poetry.
didn’t we fly
that chill autumn day
escaped from apple picking
to smoke secret cigarettes in the woods
on a rough dirt road to nowhere
when a half dozen boys
came on rumbling bikes
asked if we wanted
to go for a ride
we should have known better
and run for our lives
but we grinned at each other
and got on behind
and didn’t we fly
didn’t we fly
with the wind in our hair
and the sky whirling by
trailing shrieking laughter
my cheek pressed against
his warm farm boy back
arms holding tight
like I was in love
maybe just for that moment I was
didn’t we fly
didn’t we fly
that chill autumn day
now I’m older and wiser
and you’ve gone away
but I will always remember you
and that perfectly dangerous
beautiful day
didn’t we fly?
For Dawn Davis
Halloween is gone another year, and this year was one of the best we’ve had so far. Continue reading “Halloween”
I have my fireplace going and it’s in the 60s outside. Fall is finally here. We’ve already been to the pumpkin patch and decorated the whole house for Halloween. The front porch is covered with pumpkins. Unfortunately I bought my mums too early in September and they died of the climate-change heat wave we had most of the month. Continue reading “Insidious OCD”
(A little end of summer poem.)
On the last day of vacation,
sunburned and windswept,
I rushed down to the beach
with an empty bottle
to capture a piece of sea.
I crammed sand and tiny shells
through the opening,
filled the empty space with seawater,
hoping as we drove away
when I missed this place
I could open it,
return to that
delirious infinity,
the rush of light
sound and movement
more wonderful
than anything I’d ever seen.
Of course it was a lost cause:
Grand things diminish
in confined spaces,
both children and the sea.
Even though we are still in limbo regarding my stepdad, it’s been a wonderful summer. It’s the first since I had kids that I got to be home with them, and we’ve been too busy enjoying ourselves for me to write much. Even though we’re moderately broke, we’ve found plenty of fun things to do…trips to the science museum, skipping around between all the excellent library branches, visiting parks when it’s not too hot, swimming, art exhibits, museums, caverns, visits to and from family, playdates…
My daughter starts school next week and both my son and I will be seriously bummed without her around every day. I let her have an end-of-summer sleepover with three friends last weekend; her first one ever. I nearly lost my sanity, but she and her friends had a good time. 😉
I finally went to the doctor and dentist on my new insurance, and I’m working on fixing all the minor health problems I’ve been having: migraines, low iron, vertigo…the doctor tried to hook me up with a therapist, but at this point finding a babysitter to cover appointments sounds more stressful than therapy sounds helpful. A therapist isn’t going to be able to do anything about the uncertainty of the stepdad situation anyway. If he goes to trial I’m going to go to support Mom.
For now, I have a first birthday party to attend for my great-niece soon, and a visit to Mom’s to plan in September. I can’t wait until the weather cools down so I can take Rory on hikes, too. There’s still a lot to explore in our new city.
He wrote a letter, ostensibly to apologize, because he pestered the nurses to call and my mom wasn’t ready to talk. He has been medicated as close to a recovery as he will get, and he remembered what he referred to as that terrible night. Continue reading “Closure”
Dreadful Ideas 