She’s sitting atop the dinner table
legs crossed like an Indian so close to him
her knees brush the edges of his newspaper,
which is opened to the sports page.
Laker Victory.
“Can you believe that? The Lakers are on fire this season.”
But his hesitation to issue the initiation of this bit of conversation
just highlights his dedication to discourage conversation
leaving her in frustration and isolation.
But still admiration for this man she does love.
And with his mind intoxicated by work, porn, and the Lakers he replies…
“Mmhmm.”
Her crossed legs uncross and she tucks them into bed
so that she can wake up once again when the starts drift off to sleep.
legs crossed like an Indian so close to him
her knees brush the edges of his newspaper,
which is opened to the sports page.
Laker Victory.
“Can you believe that? The Lakers are on fire this season.”
But his hesitation to issue the initiation of this bit of conversation
just highlights his dedication to discourage conversation
leaving her in frustration and isolation.
But still admiration for this man she does love.
And with his mind intoxicated by work, porn, and the Lakers he replies…
“Mmhmm.”
Her crossed legs uncross and she tucks them into bed
so that she can wake up once again when the starts drift off to sleep.
Lunar light luminates Larry’s luggage as he leaves the next morning
That luggage makes promises to him.
That luggage makes threats to her.
Either way every morning he’s tempted by a moonbeam.
And every morning she awakes to the shut of a door
no quieter that her tears.
And the rattle of a car engine
no louder than her heart.
And with ears reaching to heaven, the dogs know the sounds and the routine.
Rowdy waits by the door.
Halcyon wags his tail, running round and round in anticipation.
He named them—of course.
This morning something is different.
(other than the lack of dew holding down the air
and the lack of hope holding down her heart.)
but to Rowdy and Halcyon all that matters is a potty break.
And to her, the light of the starts.
That luggage makes promises to him.
That luggage makes threats to her.
Either way every morning he’s tempted by a moonbeam.
And every morning she awakes to the shut of a door
no quieter that her tears.
And the rattle of a car engine
no louder than her heart.
And with ears reaching to heaven, the dogs know the sounds and the routine.
Rowdy waits by the door.
Halcyon wags his tail, running round and round in anticipation.
He named them—of course.
This morning something is different.
(other than the lack of dew holding down the air
and the lack of hope holding down her heart.)
but to Rowdy and Halcyon all that matters is a potty break.
And to her, the light of the starts.
This morning is new.
Next door Max sits
Cinnamon scone and a cup of cinnamon tea.
Because he’s trying to kick that caffeine craving just like
he kicked that nicotine need he developed
just when Sarah dropped her dependence to him
and adopted an addiction to men
with bigger muscles
and bigger pay checks.
Today, to give life some meaning, he just might add butter to his scone,
skip the allotted hour for Family Feud re-runs,
and drive to the store to get more tea.
And TV dinners for those Friday nights
on which the diner is busy with family night arguments and first date chatter.
To go with the savorless Salisbury steak he’ll purchase Scotch.
No... not a good idea.
Maybe just some peppermint tea.
And as he writes this down on a notepad bordered with yellow smiling daisies
he looks out his window to see stars
and instead sees her, from next door, a star.
And playing along with the “lets-give-life-some-meaning” theme
swiftly he strolls, eyes solely on her “Cinnamon Scone?”
Feeling pathetically desperate,
practically deserted,
but politely declined
he forgoes the trip and settles for a Marlboro and a remote.
Next door Max sits
Cinnamon scone and a cup of cinnamon tea.
Because he’s trying to kick that caffeine craving just like
he kicked that nicotine need he developed
just when Sarah dropped her dependence to him
and adopted an addiction to men
with bigger muscles
and bigger pay checks.
Today, to give life some meaning, he just might add butter to his scone,
skip the allotted hour for Family Feud re-runs,
and drive to the store to get more tea.
And TV dinners for those Friday nights
on which the diner is busy with family night arguments and first date chatter.
To go with the savorless Salisbury steak he’ll purchase Scotch.
No... not a good idea.
Maybe just some peppermint tea.
And as he writes this down on a notepad bordered with yellow smiling daisies
he looks out his window to see stars
and instead sees her, from next door, a star.
And playing along with the “lets-give-life-some-meaning” theme
swiftly he strolls, eyes solely on her “Cinnamon Scone?”
Feeling pathetically desperate,
practically deserted,
but politely declined
he forgoes the trip and settles for a Marlboro and a remote.
He’s worked almost ten hours overtime
It’s only Wednesday
And the office is cold
with nothing to do but
staple, and file, and idle.
But it’s better than being home
where his demeanor is cold
and there’s nothing to do but
sit, and fake, and ignore.
Although the home itself isn’t so bad.
2 dogs, 4 bedrooms, and a 3 car garage.
The garage with a window in the corner.
The corner opposite the other corner with the junk pile.
The junk consisting of a lawnchair, a toolset, a stack of old magazines, and a suitcase.
A suitcase that contains a shaving kit, deodorant, and 600 bucks cash.
Just in case.
He calls that a promise.
She calls that a threat.
Home once again, the sports page is on the table.
But she’s already in bed.
Thank God.
It’s only Wednesday
And the office is cold
with nothing to do but
staple, and file, and idle.
But it’s better than being home
where his demeanor is cold
and there’s nothing to do but
sit, and fake, and ignore.
Although the home itself isn’t so bad.
2 dogs, 4 bedrooms, and a 3 car garage.
The garage with a window in the corner.
The corner opposite the other corner with the junk pile.
The junk consisting of a lawnchair, a toolset, a stack of old magazines, and a suitcase.
A suitcase that contains a shaving kit, deodorant, and 600 bucks cash.
Just in case.
He calls that a promise.
She calls that a threat.
Home once again, the sports page is on the table.
But she’s already in bed.
Thank God.
The moon, nor the sun, nor the racket of Larry’s engine could ever wake Max up.
He could sleep forever if not for the fear of awaking to a prince.
But the lights—yes the lights he leaves on all night that increase the electricity bill—
those wake him up.
And maybe that why he leaves them on all night.
But maybe it’s so Sarah might find her way home..\
Just in case. Yes that’s why.
Up at 6, he looks to the heavens
but all he can see is a crocheted blanket
with thread holes that let the light in that it resembles starlight.
Such a contrast to the darkest night of last year
when he woke up much like Sleeping Beauty must’ve.
Startle in his heart and a sting on his lips he looks to his left.
Next to the bedside table
(which is now in the closet)
is a note on smiley daisy paper.
“I’m sorry.”
“Can’t do this”
“I love you”
“I loved you.”
Something like that…
Scotch drowned the ink from the paper and his mind.
But he doesn’t spill scotch anymore
just tea.
Only there’s no more tea either.
Lets give life some meaning.
He could sleep forever if not for the fear of awaking to a prince.
But the lights—yes the lights he leaves on all night that increase the electricity bill—
those wake him up.
And maybe that why he leaves them on all night.
But maybe it’s so Sarah might find her way home..\
Just in case. Yes that’s why.
Up at 6, he looks to the heavens
but all he can see is a crocheted blanket
with thread holes that let the light in that it resembles starlight.
Such a contrast to the darkest night of last year
when he woke up much like Sleeping Beauty must’ve.
Startle in his heart and a sting on his lips he looks to his left.
Next to the bedside table
(which is now in the closet)
is a note on smiley daisy paper.
“I’m sorry.”
“Can’t do this”
“I love you”
“I loved you.”
Something like that…
Scotch drowned the ink from the paper and his mind.
But he doesn’t spill scotch anymore
just tea.
Only there’s no more tea either.
Lets give life some meaning.
Rowdy and Halcyon cut across the neighbor’s yard.
They know the routine.
But this time she tugs and hassles because yesterday was not routine.
And when you’re so anti-routine
as she is.
You’ll pull the leash so hard as not to pass
the same yard to see
the same man to have
the same conversation.
But the dogs like routine.
Same yard.
Same tree.
Same route.
But today won’t be routine
if they cut across HIS yard.
She’s doing this for the dogs.
Really.
She’s doing this to feel the heat of the stars.
Face lifted to the massive moon.
Smile forced to the mundane morn.
Eyes back down to see a moving man.
“I’m heading to the store… Could I pick you up anything?”
“I’ve been meaning to pick up a half pound of flour
and cheese that comes in a tube.
The brand of cinnamon with feathers on the can,
watermelon that’s grown as a cube.
Dark chocolate covered sunflower seeds,
a crate of cran-apples ripe.
Milk for the lactose intolerant,
an African-beaded pipe.
Also, I needed some cinnamon tea
that accompanies my morning bacon.
And two lean cuts of red meat steak.
…Actually make that just one.
His hands cramp listing the details.
His brain spins wondering where to start.
His heart loves this whimsical woman
who seduces stronger than a Siren,
speaks more exquisite than Shakespeare
and snivels slyer than Cyrano.
His brain reels speculation to why her eyes are red.
His hands shake wanting to hold her.
They know the routine.
But this time she tugs and hassles because yesterday was not routine.
And when you’re so anti-routine
as she is.
You’ll pull the leash so hard as not to pass
the same yard to see
the same man to have
the same conversation.
But the dogs like routine.
Same yard.
Same tree.
Same route.
But today won’t be routine
if they cut across HIS yard.
She’s doing this for the dogs.
Really.
She’s doing this to feel the heat of the stars.
Face lifted to the massive moon.
Smile forced to the mundane morn.
Eyes back down to see a moving man.
“I’m heading to the store… Could I pick you up anything?”
“I’ve been meaning to pick up a half pound of flour
and cheese that comes in a tube.
The brand of cinnamon with feathers on the can,
watermelon that’s grown as a cube.
Dark chocolate covered sunflower seeds,
a crate of cran-apples ripe.
Milk for the lactose intolerant,
an African-beaded pipe.
Also, I needed some cinnamon tea
that accompanies my morning bacon.
And two lean cuts of red meat steak.
…Actually make that just one.
His hands cramp listing the details.
His brain spins wondering where to start.
His heart loves this whimsical woman
who seduces stronger than a Siren,
speaks more exquisite than Shakespeare
and snivels slyer than Cyrano.
His brain reels speculation to why her eyes are red.
His hands shake wanting to hold her.
Its 10 and she’s sitting, legs crossed right in front of him
so that her knees graze the corners of his paper.
Sitting on a table is synonymous with love
—to her. And to him too years ago.
Years ago—when a woman wearing linen pants whispered
“I can fly” into his ear.
And she could fly them both away to happiness
if only she had a can of cinnamon, ripe cran-apples, and a pipe.
But he was already happy to have her so close.
But the only meaning in life now is that the phone is ringing.
so that her knees graze the corners of his paper.
Sitting on a table is synonymous with love
—to her. And to him too years ago.
Years ago—when a woman wearing linen pants whispered
“I can fly” into his ear.
And she could fly them both away to happiness
if only she had a can of cinnamon, ripe cran-apples, and a pipe.
But he was already happy to have her so close.
But the only meaning in life now is that the phone is ringing.
She swings her legs over the table.
dance to the phone
The ring has broken routine.
Halcyon is howling at the wall
Rowdy’s ear is cocked.
Her ear is pressed to the phone
and on the other end a man howls
“I’ve got everything but the sunflower seeds would you settle for milk chocolate?”
She would.
dance to the phone
The ring has broken routine.
Halcyon is howling at the wall
Rowdy’s ear is cocked.
Her ear is pressed to the phone
and on the other end a man howls
“I’ve got everything but the sunflower seeds would you settle for milk chocolate?”
She would.
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