1-31 Waiting For You

when I was young,
or younger, than I am
at heart now,
I believed in everything,
everything anyway,
a heart as young as mine,
could believe in,
when I was young,

you would awake me,
awake me, quietly,
when the moon had already
gone to bed, with me,
in bed, awake, quietly,
waiting for you,
to awake me,
when I was young,

we went outside,
folding chairs, pistachios,
in hand, looking up
and out, we went outside,
folding chairs, under our arms,
pistachios in your pocket,
looking up and out,
when you would awake me,

the night unfolded,
the moon in bed,
before us,
swaths of sparkling lampposts,
guides, beckoning, in our lawn-chairs,
looking up at the night unfolding,
in swaths of sparkling, lampposts,
flickering, river guides, beckoning,
pistachios in hand,
I believed in everything,
looking up and out,
I believed in everything,
when I was young,

time passes,
I grow,
you still wake me up,
the heart grows,
I grow,
you still wake me up,
time passes,
I grow,
the heart grows,
younger, older,
I believe in everything,
pistachios in my hand,
folding chairs, put away,
I grow,
time passes,

the moon returns to my bed,
before us,
wakes me up,
quietly,
waiting for time to pass,
to grow, quietly,
the heart unfolding,
the moon in my bed,
awake,
a flickering lamppost,
in the night sky,
when I am young,
when you were young,
well, younger than my heart is now,
we believed, in everything,

time passes,
the heart grows,
I still believe,
time passes,
the heart looks up and out,
time passes,
the heart,
still lies awake,
waiting,
for you.

1-30 The Distance Between Us

at 8:16 in the morning,
I am thinking,

about the way
the road curved,
blue in the evening light,
winding through the wintered
dark stands of fir,
splashes of snow, quilted,
blurry patches rushed by,
he drives

I am thinking,
about the distance between us,
and the not distance
five feet, ten years,
reflected in the windows,
steel blue into green,
we could be,

twins, but he is older,
his beard curls white,
grayer in the last few months,
I've noticed more than I remember,
it happens I suppose,
I'm not supposed to notice these things,
but, he feels, wild, abandoned, patches,
comfortable and uncomfortable,

in his age, and at the same time, I,
am not younger, not in this thought,
five feet, ten years,
reflected in the windows,
he could have been me,
ten years ago,
I have never
been here before,
but the road curves,
familiar, as if there had been
a we, once,

I look over at him.

the road curves between my words,
stands of pine and fir, separate,
we, are almost,

home.

at 8:34 in the morning,
I am still thinking about him,
the road curving, ten years,

down Echo summit,
past the Meyer's gas station,
a left turn on Tahoe Key's blvd,
and then,

my coffee mug is empty,
time to put my contacts in,
the day has already happened,
to him, he is mixing paints,
starting on a new room,
and I need to clean,

ten years, five feet,
the road curving,
stands of fir and sky,

between.

1-29 Driven

this is a get-a-way car,

I drive, crashing into 

my pillows, stuffed with stone

and thistle, wind playing

down the condo, outside

the window, palms pressed to

the glass pushing, the sheets between

us, rolling over so the car

can breathe, from under the sheets,

pushing at the windows, my pillows,

stone and thistle, playing the wind,

crashing my get-a-way car,

down the condo, rolling, over,

between us, into

I drive.,

1-28 Blood and Salsa In The Water

we stuck our toes,
in,
he grinned,
playfully batting his eyes,
thumping his bible,
to hymn number,
one-fifty-seven,
nearer my god to thee,
playfully, his eyes, forgiving,
honest,
the water was warm,
almost hot,
soda water, ginger, cider, and pop,
over,
the growing pile of his,
bone collection, covered in
onion, pork, cheddar, and fork,
grinning, welcoming,
gather ye children and swim with gods,
he roared, grinning, wicked,
wicked
teeth, tone-sharpened, white china gleaming,
pearls in his eyes, innocent,
gather, he faltered,
we hesitated,
notes on a rising scale,
bass, baritone, tenor, and castrato,
screaming under the bubbling, churning water,
chums baptized in the high sea's,
he turned his grin,
in, foam and folly,
nature dripping from his smile,
wicked, wicked, innocent,
teeth always praying, grinning,
singing, in the,
after all,
the water was warm,
so,
disciples of the discipline,
we stuck our toes in and,
followed.

1-27 How Could He Have Known

I say,
with a hmmm,
knees tucked under,
coffee mug, morning light,
in hand, steam forming,
my words, disappearing,
in the fog of
of yesterday's,
thought,

how could he have known?

I frown slightly,
smile, leaving
my lips for the briefest of few,
seconds, savoring,
the taste of, bitter,
chocolate, caramel,
cinnamon lingering,
there, then,
gone

how could he have known?

I told only,
you, swirling into
the coffee cooling, melting,
into the mug,
my hands, quietly,
thinking,
this is where I would,
sigh,
except,

except,
how could he have known?

morning light, still, returning,
notes on a piano, playing,
the coffee mug, a faded photograph,
I would have brought him,
this,

I would have brought him,
bouquets of daffodils,


I would have, but,
knees tucked under,
coffee mug in hand,

how could he have known?

1-26 Revival

awake.

it's a bluegrass kind of morning,
a get in the car,
and get on the road,
kind of morning,

an everything seems possible and pancake,
kind of morning,
a butter on your plate, bacon and fried egg,
kind of morning,

where's this road to take us?
where's this road to take us?

but right back here to you,

awake.

1-25 Hazelnut Flour

thousands of bees are buzzing,
hatching beneath my skin,
crawling up my forearms,
paper wings, rustling within,

thousands of bees are forming,
hives within my eyes,
clawing at the cavities,
desperate to be alive,

thousands of bees are scraping,
constantly scraping away at my insides,
thousands of bees,
wanting, wanting all my mind.

1-24 You Help People For A Living?

compassion,

smacks a bloodied hand,
across your embrace-less crowd
kind of face,
dripping lemonade and vodka,
down your weak seven haired- mustached
upper crust lip,
while you quiver
about the why,
and who would,
and what's the point,
forgetting my shadow self,
still sitting across from you,
just showed you a piece of my out-heart,
served on a white plate cracked
in bone and china,
tar-tar for the happy hour,
when it beats, alive,
looking for yours,
you shriek ,
with the shriveled pellet balls,
of a passed-over mouse,
cowering into the
corner of the booth,

how did they find you?
how did they find you?

1-23 Listening To Him Play (For Glenn)

there's something so familiar,
about the way, he,
plays his ivory smiles,
something so familiar,

all the jazz and all the while,

walking down the aisle,
I know,
he's been here,
before,
walking down the aisle,
I know,
I've heard him here,
before,
there were closed doors,
walking down the aisle,
now there open,
something so familiar,
walking down the aisle,
closed doors, now there,
walking down the aisle,
hoping,

open,


when the church feels photograph familiar,
he feels, photograph familiar,
there's something, so familiar,

about him.

1-22 Next Time

if you're going to call me a gem,
then show me how I sparkle,
the blush back into your eyes,
if you're going to call me a princess,
then remind I am one,
and kiss me the f*** awake,
but if you're going to stand there,
all hot, bothered, and bear,
then what's a gem sparkling kissing princess to do,
but shoulder sigh, flounce,
and pout a pretty perhaps,
silly boy,
sigh.

1-21 A Gift

because when you look in the mirror,
you ask the same questions I do,
because when you look in the mirror,
at yourself asking the same questions I do,
looking in the mirror,
asking the same questions,
looking in the mirror,
because I do,

when,
you smile,
who smiles back at you first?
who smiles back at you, first?
when you, smile,
asking the same questions I do,
looking at yourself in the mirror,
smiling, asking yourself the same questions,
when you smile, first,
who

looks in the mirror back at you,
asking the same questions, I do,
looking in the mirror smiling back,
at you, who, asks you the same questions,
I do, smiling back at you in the mirror,
because,

I do.

1-20 Unseen

beneath the boughs of the ever green
I am unseen,
a blue never ending dream,
hushes gentle upon the shore,
return the hours six for more,
wind as gray to call the shore
hush the gentle blue of the waking dream,
unseen beneath the boughs of the ever green,

around and around and around,
canopy and crown,
around and around and around,

beneath the boughs of the ever green
I am unseen,
a blue never ending dream,
hushes gentle upon the shore,
return the hours six for more,
winds as gray to call the shore,
hush the gentle blue of the waking dream,
unseen beneath the bough of the ever green.

1-19 One Of Us

where were his eyes?
his soft eyes?

why had he mashed them,
together, with the paint,
with his fingers, scraping.
with the paint, with his fingers,
together, across the canvas,
why

didn't he let us see,
him, why show us this?
three times,

he rips it
from us splashing,
three times,
thick  layering viscous movements
of three,

did he not love him?
did he not love him?
did he not want the world to love him?

was he afraid, like the rest of us,
afraid, lathered in color, dripping, afraid
tired of fighting the three he saw inside of us,
afraid,

to smile, to frown, to
scream, with his never now soft eyes
missing,

nervous, I sat down, wondering,
crossing my ankles to keep them
from shaking the mirror across
from me in angles and forms
betrayed welded together broken
forms shaking in angles crossing
nerves wondering why I was sitting
down across from a mirror when I
should be

with the paint, his fingers, scraping,
lathered, dripping, tired of fighting
his soft eyes watching me brushing
the hair from my

1-18 4 x 4 (To The Head)

Autumn, Whisper, Song, and Stone,
late into the night,
in the wicked flicker of the firelight,
late into the night
argued,
over wishes and moons, 
boys and tunes,
silly boys, forgetful tunes, him, and love,
love, love, love, love,

Whisper from his chair of shadows
crept forward, gripping the sides,
fingers curled, uncurling from the birch,
claiming one for him, one for his heart,
one to sit on his chair, one in his place,
one to wear his crown, one to wear his face,
whispering with his heart, curled, uncurling,
I want to be free, I want to be free,
I want to be free,
Whisper pleaded to no one,
this one's for me, no one listened,
to his heart, whispering, I want to be,
giving him the Bull, the Shadow which swallowed
the Drowning man, screaming whispers to no one,
I want to be free, I want to be free, I want to be free,
from his chair of shadows crept forward,
this one's for me.

Autumn, Song, Stone and Whisper,
late into the night,
alive in the wicked flicker of the firelight
late into the night,
argued over wishes and moons,
boys and tunes,
silly boys, mournful tunes, kisses, her, and love,
love, love, love, love


Quiet Stone. Patient Stone.
Lifted his finger and pointed once.
The fire dying to ash in his eyes.
The fire held to ash in his eyes.
The fire smoldering ash in his eyes.
Quiet Stone. Patient Stone. Smiled once.
Plucking from the blackening pit,
a once, a hymn, a gathered husk,
a breath,  a form, a cradle,
for him, for him, for him.
Quiet Stone. Patient Stone. Held once.

Song, Autumn, Whisper, and Stone
late into the night,
lost to the wicked flicker of the firelight
late into the night,
arguing over,
wishes, and moons, 
boys, and tunes,
silly boys, wayward tunes, home, and love,
love, love, love, love 


Autumn flashing,
his hand, scraped the embers from the pile,
scattering them into the sky, while he danced,
claiming, one for his wings, one for his feathers,
one who was afraid, to dance, but watched,
feathers for his hands, wings for his hands,
oceans of sky enveloping, unfolding, unfurling,
with his hands, flashing, embers, flying,
this one is mine, this one is mine, screaming,
into the flight of the sky, wild ribbons, silver thread, hair tangling,
strangling, wanting, flying, dancing, wanting, grasping, giving, wanting,
taking.

Whisper, Stone, Song, and Autumn,
late into the night,
by the wicked flicker of the firelight,
argued over the last,
wish, the full moon,
the silly boy, and his wayward tune,
the who, who won't go home, and love,
love, love, love, love,


when all had left,
the sky full of tears glistening,
the moon to bed,
no longer listening,
Song in the darkness wept waiting,
for the last, the one,
beneath the midnight glimmering
for the last, the one,
to the shadow of his ear, whispering,
as stones held in his arms, cradling,
as autumn leaves with his feathers, falling,
when all had left,
his sky full of tears glistening,
this one remained listening,
this one remained, listening,

Song.

1-17 A Clean House

why did you,
send,
in the clowns,
the fool,
to stop,
watch,
laugh,
a little night music,
kept,
company,
broom in hand,
forgetting, I was,
on the floor,
legs up turned,
broom in hand,
kept, a little night,
music, forgetting,
why you are,
still here,
smiling,
watching,
laughing,
at me dancing,
to a little night music,
broom in hand,
legs up turned,
the fool who asked,
for the clowns,
to be sent,
in, a little night music,
in hand, kept,
company, I can't forget,
laugh, watch,
stop,

the fool and his clown

1-15 Mr. Producer Has A Melt Down

sparrow singing on a branch,
thirty six notes, sparrow singing,
on a branch,

the moment came,
as a sparrow singing on a branch,
with a gray checkered scarf,
guilty, playful eyes, feathers constantly
ruffling, in the cold, we talked about,
bars, bar maids, beers, and bears,
when the moment came,
I thought he might,
forget about the bars, bar maids, beers, and bears,
and be just a sparrow singing on a branch to me,
but the moment came and left,
coffee stain on my cheek,
he came and left,
just another sparrow singing on a branch,
to me,

sparrow singing on a branch,
thirty six notes, sparrow singing,
on a branch,

the moment came,
as a sparrow singing on a branch,
with soft brown eyes, delicate hands,
swirling whiskey, trouble on his breath,
while he drank, water-spun tales about
musicals, melodies, madness, and men,
when the moment came,
I thought he might, forget,
about the melodies, the musicals, the madness,
the men, and be just a sparrow,
singing on a branch to me,
but the moment came,
and left,
notes on a piano,
melting down my cheek,
he came and left,
just another sparrow,
singing on a branch,
to me,

sparrow singing on a branch,
thirty six notes, sparrow singing,
on a branch,

the moment came,
I left,
just another sparrow,
singing on a branch,
whiskey on my breath,
hands delicate, spinning tales,
of bar maids and bears,
notes on a piano,
melting down my cheek,
just another sparrow,
singing on a branch,

to me.

1-14 His Hands On The Wheel

in the car,
on the way home,
I looked out the window,
and saw him,
looking back at me,
while he drove,
away from,
the trees stretching into the sky,
branches spider-webbing across
the windshield, cracks forming
in the gray fog,
what did we talk about then?

I forget.

1-13 When He Wore The Tie

nice boys,

good boys,

the kind of boys,

you take home to mom, boys,

nice boys,

good boys,

he is one of those,

nice boys,

good boys,

well put together,

thought out,

living next door boys,

kind boys,

beautiful afternoon boys,

the kind of boys,

you get caught with,

in the barn, boys,

he is one of those,

nice boys,

good boys,

laughing on the porch,

smiling, lemonade in hand boys,

good boys,

the kind of forever young,

who you  grow older with boys,

he is one of those,

nice boys,

good boys,

hair combed, tie straightened,

athletic trim, boys,

the kind of boys, I want to

take home, and maybe,

I will'-

boys.

1-12 Cleaning House

I took my broom,
to his head
and smashed it,
wondering why,
he kept smiling
at me, his legs,
up-turned in the air,
house falling around him,
but still he smiles,
and nods, as if,
this is the way of things,
like he knew, the broom
was coming, smashing down,
on his head, turning his legs up
in the air, the house around me,
falling, when I took my
broom to his head, and
smashed it, wondering,
why I was smiling.

1-11 When The Door Opens

while I wait,
starlight in hand,
for the door to open,

in folds of fabric, intricate stitching,
on a pink dress, letters of love,
spelling out,

a once upon a time,

when the door opens,
first, she is, the one
with the smile, curly hair,
the place where angels first,
dared to breathe, she takes her
needle and thread, and sews
a love song, of whiskey and champagne,
layered and hidden in pink layers of punk fluff,
the dress becomes an ever after in blue, but
before she can finish,

the door opens a second time, and he, brings with him,
the smell of the tide, the rush of his big hands,
sewing reprimands and admonitions with green
and gray thread, pulling the bodice tighter, while she
of the smile and breath spins me round and round,
around my waist, refusing to dance, but remarking,
what a beautiful mess of pink I am wearing, he pulls tighter, I gasp,
breathless, dizzy, when,

the door opens a third time, the ambassador enters,
wearing a white crown, pink blush rising dawn on his cheeks,
when he sees me bent over, trying to breathe, he bows, pulling
me close with needles of fire and granite in his eyes, silver blades
cutting through my chest, ripping out the tender lining
with poetry and music in his laughter, placing his hand
curled into a fist, where my heart should be, opening his palms like a sparrow,
before

the door opes a fourth time, and she enters, slapping his hands away,
with glitter on her fingers, kissing me twice on each cheek, tear stains,
lining my eyes black, you are already beautiful, she wishes to me, before,
pulling out her, dusty needle and tan thread, weaving gold flakes into my eyes,
when,

bursting through the door a fifth time, the minstrels, the unicorns,
the bears, the fairies, the princes, the princesses, the entourage, the carousal,
in hats and heels, wine glasses, flutes, violas, laughter,
and music, the music, oh the music, rising and falling, sparkling, glittering,
filling the air, with movement, grace, spinning me, spinning me,
when he stops whispering in my ear, the one with the wicked smile, the jester, in the palm
of his hands, snow falling as some forgotten song,
taking out his silver needle, and silver thread,
weaving a pink falling waterfall of champagne on my head, he spins me around, slowly,
then faster, wolves baying at my heels, throwing me from one conversation to another,
a dance, a song, while the night, wild in his eyes,
laughs, howls, swirling the divas, hours in pink, rose, silver and white,

with the door wide open,
I am.

the lights fade, I sit down next to the fire,
kindled with silver sparkling in my hand,
the dress undone, glitter falling down my cheeks,
the last of the champagne spills from my glass,
when the dark of midnight gathers their souls around me,
one by one, kissing my cheek, happy birthday, love,
thirty six kisses,
till one,
is left,

I am shy. I look him in his brown questioning eyes, offering him one last dance,
but he kisses my forehead instead, and says silly girl, you forgot something,
from his cedar lined pocket he draws, with glass and crystal threads,
a slipper, placing it into my palm, then he bows,
disappearing into the corner of the room,
taking the shadows, and spinning them into his innocence, into straw, into gold,

while I wait, slipper in hand,
for the door to open.

1-10 My Dog Is Not A Sled Dog

my dog,
is not a sled dog.

when I run,
she walks.

when I run,
she waddles,
sniffs, snorts,
retorts.

when I run,
I pull her,
drag her,
plead with her,
behind me.

when I run,
she ignores me,
(actually this is most of the time)

when I reach a hill,
I have to walk,
and then she sits.

She. runs,
when there,
is a squirrel,
a black lab,
a falling leaf,
a chickadee,
a flash of light,
Abby, Allie,
Christie, Prancer-

but when I run,
she decides she is
a lap dog.

1-9 Playboy

not every mirror
is

made of glass,
sometimes the pink
of our perfection,
combs a silver crown
through our hair,
twirl layers of puff
at our ankles,
tightens the bodice,
with our shallow breaths,
while hiding our naked feet,
under the hem of our conversation,

but what do I see?

what do I see,
when I look at him,
in my pink decision,
uncertainty, glittering,
on my lips,
when I look at him,

assembling,
his glass slippers,
with scotch tape,
remarking,
how beautiful he will be,
in his glass slippers,
how beautiful,

what do I see,
what do I say?

not every mirror,
is made,
of glass.

1-8 Calm The F' Down

would you all,
just,
calm the f*** down.

my phone is blowing up,
on a permanent dial of
911, you, and you, and
YOU!

all have this number,
don't pretend you can't read
this text, cause, I'm screaming,
in metaphors, while smiling,
with sugar free gum smacking,
you,
repeatedly,

seriously,
hyperventilate,
over your honey,
spreading butter,
on a warm toasted bread,
without a smile,

nobody asked you to ghost chili
my breakfast today,

and really?
really?
really?

as he once said to me,
with his eyebrow, his big hands,
pausing while cutting potatoes
on the counter, and I liked him,

so before you decide to,
pet the porcupine,
screaming holy jesus, hallelujah,
it's got spines,

calm the f*** down,

sister. seriously.

1-7 Tense

Is it because no,
has two letters,
and yes,
three,
that makes,
one,
easier,
to say,
than the other,
to,
me?

Because,
the way,
I,
say it,
yes, has an s,
which is,
two,
while no,
comes with
an oh,
which is-

one.

1-6 An Exercise In Futility

As a Baritone,
I hold the note,
in the palm,
of my mouth,
steady, strong, sure,
built,
with the Bass,
above the Bass,
with the Bass,
one solid note,
held, filling the
forming cracks,
with confidence,
a foundation of silence,
for the sparrow,
nesting in the
palm of my mouth,
fluttering, heart beat racing,
sings wingless flight,
as a Tenor,
held in
wingless flight,
fluttering, tries,
finds, not with the Bass,
above the Bass,
notes flowing freely,
as the Bass, the Baritone,
the Tenor, unresolved,
held, faltering,
in the palm of my mouth,
born this way,
the Baritone as a Bass,
as a Tenor, sparrow.

1-5 Silent Pantomime

ballerina,

on the floor,
bending, bowing,
lifting arms,
breasts revealing,
chest undoing,

no sound,
no sound,

a silent pantomime
pushing through,
caught between
the bars of nightlife
streaming blind,
through the window,
reaching, pushing,
caressing, bending,
bowing, caught,
within closed palms,
pigtails, red hair,
lip-lined laughter,
hollowing, the out,
the out, who is she?
ballerina, without,

a sound, no sound,
 yet,

she sings,
grace stretching,
form between the bars,
liquid eyes wider,
than her heart,
she sings,

ballerina.

1-4 I Almost Forgot My Poop Bag

On Saturday,

the barbies ran through Forest Park,

prancing, preening, posturing,
conversations shambling, baby-showering,
prims and portable princelings yowling,
on leashes, off leashes, fur branding,
breakfast burritos matching,
bobby-sock, air-shoes, beanie wicking
black glove, ball cap, watch band, wire dangling,
heart connecting to a pulse counting,
calorie twirling, pony tail, crimping,
perky, kale, raspberry vinaigrette, eating,
never had meat on my ass,
check that out,
chicken ankling,
twenty-third avenue croissant baking,
paper-bag boulangerie boasting,
three point two miles to cross fit my baby making,
insta-posting,

barbies converged on Forest Park,

on Saturday.

1-3 In The Kitchen Of The Gods

one got lost along the way it seems,

Death said rather moodily over
his never steaming cup of hot cocoa,
looking at me picking my feathers clean,
with remnants from his lover's teeth,

did you have to eat him?

I could tell he wanted a cigarette,
the way his body not so lightly relaxed,
onto the edge of the kitchen counter,
while his eyes glowered and simmered,
judging me but  encouraging me,

I suppose not,

I said flexing my wings,
ringing the bells that shook with midnight hour,

but I got curious,

flashing him an adorable smile, picking up my mug,
swirling the contents into spirals and dreams,

I got curious. And there was this one other thing...

my voice trailed off, straining to hear the sounds of Gloria
coming from the mug, Death leaned in close, also listening,

they never seem to hit the high g, do they?
he whispered maliciously,

engulfing us in the growing chasm of his laughter,
the light wavered, the kitchen shifted slightly,
and I felt like I was falling, in a forever-beneath-me sense,
I had felt it before, once,
an all too familiar rush,
of his world rising up,

he smelled like you, sweetie,

I hummed, kissing him on the cheek,
tasting the burnt ash of his beard,
lingering on the after of his breath,

and you know I can't resist...

Death put his arms around my waist,

resist?

he said smiling with the slightest of awkward grins,
causing the bells to clang in my head,

while the violin started to play furiously
falling from his lips,

why would you want to?

1-2 Awake In The House of September

quiet the whispers in the hallway,
for the man upstairs is sleeping,
quiet the growling shadow at my side,
for we invited him in and we need him,
hush, my prowling quick-to-anger heart,
hush, can't you feel it, the grass returns,
listen to it humming, the finches and sparrows sing,
the mask I made is slipping further,
uncertainty flickering from my hands,
but listen, listen to him, waking the house of September,
listen, how quiet and still the morning has become,
hush, listen...

1-1 Patience- New Year, New Word

I added,
pecans,
to my oatmeal,
this morning,
so you should know,
while I am creating
this, the taste, of pecans,
is dusting in my mouth,
left-over from the Christmas cookies,
I never baked, because I got afraid,
this if I had any more sugar in me,
they might haul me away, and
exile me to a box, padded with carpets,
where all day long, I would be reminded
that I was going crazy wondering if the finches
were singing in c or f# minor,
worrying if I judge them too much,
they'll stop coming to the bird feeder,
and then, where would I be but a lonely,
grizzled man wanting to defrost bacon in the microwave,
but forced instead to stare, day in and day out at the lines
on a computer, hoping one of the combinations, gets him into the glass ballroom
of a locker-room, where he might get a chance to whip some towel boys into the pink perfection
of his fantasy that he is constantly dreaming
about while eating the pecan that
have now thoroughly
soaked caramel into
his oatmeal,
today.

12-31 The Prince Took The Shoe Back

midnight came,
to the champagne ball,
the prince,
(may he be exalted above us all),
toured in the finery,
of a white and black entourage,
gold embroidered thread,
blaring a royal purple wilting corsage,
the sounds of his waltz,
conceived on a ill-fated
midsummer's night,
faded from his lips,
which curled at my voluptuous sight,
instantly our fire rekindled,
the flame we had once about to burst,
his eyes became a golden flashing,
slathering, wolf-like thirst,
smiling discretely, ignoring the gasping birds of his guests,
I lifted my dress, to show him the shoes,
but as I am a lady, not the rest,
he put down his glass,
and got down on one knee,
leaning in close, to whisper,
sweetie...
giggling and blushing, I held out my hand,
before I noticed he'd taken the shoe,
at the same time motioning to strike up the band,
that sickening, sappy, song of a waltz,
dripped from his smile, and fell flat with a slap,
from half-cocked bow,
how was this lady expected to dance with him now?
he shrugged his shoulders, walking away in a trance,
mumbling to himself, something about midnight,
something about romance, some other girl,
some other chance, the prince,
(may he be exalted above us all)
pumpkined my midnight, when the clock struck,
the fairy godmother,
at the champagne ball.