I wake to reactionary sun
Bleeding through the small pane
On which I rest jetlagged skull
He rubs the knuckle of my
Index finger with a rough thumb,
I shift my head to his shoulder
Where he exhales a reminiscent, weary sigh
In my ear
Real life drones on below like
The jet engine that propels us home
After 13 hour days, he sponges up
My broken, scattered words of frustration
Just like my tears after blizzard,
Delayed flight, cancelled connection,
Lost luggage, concrete floor, screaming baby
He masterminds my sanity at times
I rub my eyes,
Slits open enough to watch his own
Search the pages of Harry Potter.
And finally, thank god, his lips on my temple
And his thumb in my palm
Jan. 20, 2004
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
Thursday, January 8, 2004
The Perfect Girl
She throws herself
On the bed
Like a fish on a line.
If he could see her with
No mascara,
He too would share
A perspective of
Banal reality.
Primrose path of “alas”
Defunct “woe is me”
And often little
Optimism without denial.
How long her stories become
When alcohol induced.
She babbles like an infant
Below a bright mobile,
Ignores the eye roll and sigh,
Picks the popcorn husks
From her molars
With an acrylic fingernail.
He never sees her this way –
She chooses not to show him.
Jan. 8, 2004
On the bed
Like a fish on a line.
If he could see her with
No mascara,
He too would share
A perspective of
Banal reality.
Primrose path of “alas”
Defunct “woe is me”
And often little
Optimism without denial.
How long her stories become
When alcohol induced.
She babbles like an infant
Below a bright mobile,
Ignores the eye roll and sigh,
Picks the popcorn husks
From her molars
With an acrylic fingernail.
He never sees her this way –
She chooses not to show him.
Jan. 8, 2004
Tuesday, January 6, 2004
La-Bella
Middle Eastern words on the wall
Before men who do not recognize deep exhaustion
Gloved hands and purple lips seem small
In this room full of pizza utterly lacking perfection
My insomniac wants sleep
Like shoes needs a sole – like they need a soul
Like their eyes all search and into my veins seep
Missing cars, stolen keys
My car outside on the street w flowers from “mom and dad” on the seat
Ten minutes of perfection comes with ease
Jan. 6, 2004
Before men who do not recognize deep exhaustion
Gloved hands and purple lips seem small
In this room full of pizza utterly lacking perfection
My insomniac wants sleep
Like shoes needs a sole – like they need a soul
Like their eyes all search and into my veins seep
Missing cars, stolen keys
My car outside on the street w flowers from “mom and dad” on the seat
Ten minutes of perfection comes with ease
Jan. 6, 2004
Sunday, January 4, 2004
Motivation
She removes her polyester suit and
Drops it crumpled onto
Her bedroom carpet each night
Lying awake beneath gritty
Sheets she always plans to
Wash tomorrow
Regretting the disorder and ruin that
Close in on her troubled 3 am mind
Someday she will not have to choose
Which bills to pay each month
Spend more money on vodka than food
Allow valiant aspirations to waste away
Like an anorexic teenager
Once she danced on shining stages nationwide
She hung her shirts neatly on cedar hangers
Once she wrote poetry and cleared her
Weary mind
She thought it could always be so.
Jan. 4, 2004
Drops it crumpled onto
Her bedroom carpet each night
Lying awake beneath gritty
Sheets she always plans to
Wash tomorrow
Regretting the disorder and ruin that
Close in on her troubled 3 am mind
Someday she will not have to choose
Which bills to pay each month
Spend more money on vodka than food
Allow valiant aspirations to waste away
Like an anorexic teenager
Once she danced on shining stages nationwide
She hung her shirts neatly on cedar hangers
Once she wrote poetry and cleared her
Weary mind
She thought it could always be so.
Jan. 4, 2004
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