Every year Dad mowed our backyard with a can of gasoline and a box of matches. He would plod its length while pouring gasoline, stop, light a match and throw it to the ground. The fire, following the trail of fuel, raced down the yard incinerating all vegetation. Dad would repeat this process until the backyard was charred and lifeless. The ritual burning took place in spring in hopes that by summer the backyard would be safe for my friends and me. It never was. The sandspurs survived the torching and grew back bigger, harder and sharper than the year before.
Removing sandspurs from the bottom of our tender feet was a serious procedure. If the sandspur was not removed correctly, it would break off into the skin and torture us until we were forced to go home to our mothers, tweezers and rubbing alcohol.
No one played in my backyard.
My house and my friends’ houses lined an unpaved road in Palatka, Florida. The road, describing the shape of an ankh, was a tenth of a mile long and filled with reddish-orange clay, coarse grains of sand, and dust. In the absence of rain, the mingled sand and dust moved freely over the road’s hard, packed surface. Rain fused the clay, sand and dust into an orange, slippery paste that stuck to the bottom of car and bicycle tires, shoes and feet.
Whether dry and dusty or wet and squishy, this road brought us many hours of entertainment.
Examining the road in late afternoon revealed that day’s activities. Wet dirt where my front yard met the road was evidence of the mummy game. Wearing bathing suits, we dragged the running water hose from my house to the road, soaked ourselves, rolled in the sun baked sand and surveyed who was able to make the most grit stick to her body. Extra points were given to the competitors who caked mud on their faces. The mummy with the most mud stuck to her body was rinsed off by the losers. The losers had to rinse themselves.
The mummy game sometimes turned into a mudpie assembly line, with workers daring each other to eat one.
Eventually, the sand in our bathing suits became unbearable, and the games ended.
Small footprints beside long, smooth, winding tracks were evidence of the duck game. After a hard rain, we took Dad’s hunting duck decoys for a spin through orange mud puddles and wet sand. Sprinting down the road, pulling the ducks behind us, we yanked them out of the puddles making them airborne for their landing into the next puddle. (Occasionally we were treated for ringworm.) Afterwards, ducks, lines and sinkers covered with mud paste were piled back into the garage.
Small tire tracks were evidence of mini-bike races. Potholes and soft sand guaranteed exciting and sometimes dangerous races. Scraped knees and elbows were the prizes.
If my dirt road was unmolested and still, this was evidence we were playing in Matt Bradley’s treehouse, jumping on Lucy Hudson’s trampoline, swimming in Dana Boone’s pool or conning someone’s mom to let us play indoors.
Our road branched off a paved road. We were forbidden to go near the paved road without supervision as it was a busy highway--cars would zoom by at 30 miles per hour every once in a while. A left turn from my dirt road and a half-mile stroll took us to Silver Lake Grocery. The store was about the size of a backyard aluminum storage shed, crammed with pink, grape and lemon-lime bubble gum, wax candy, necklace candy, caramels, Pixy Stixs, Sugar Daddy’s, Now-or-Laters, jawbreakers, fireballs, Milk Duds and sodas. We were allowed to walk to the store only under supervision and only if we were wearing shoes. Adulthood came early for my friends and me, and we were permitted to walk to this Mecca for neighborhood children unsupervised when we reached the mature age of eight.
The walk to Silver Lake Grocery was the most peaceful and magnificent walk in Palatka, and we knew it should only be taken without shoes. A canopy of large oak trees kept the asphalt cool under our feet. The edges of the road were crumbling, and if we were thinking of playing hopscotch later in the day, we would help the process along because part of the road under the asphalt made surprisingly good chalk. When a car came by, we stepped off the edge of the road and walked on the ground. We did not mind the pain of twigs and brown sticker balls pressing into our arches knowing it was the price of doing things our way.
The journey to the store included two sites of interest - a horse stable and a cow pasture. When we passed the horse stable, the horses ambled to the edge of the fence, and we offered them bunches of grass in our turned up, flattened palms. Their slobber symbolized a moment of trust and communication and was easily wiped off on our shirts. The second sight of interest, the cow pasture, was not as fulfilling. As the cows came near the fence to drink, we called them with our outstretched hands full of grass. With dripping jowls, they carefully considered us, deciding not to sample our provisions. The journey back home was spent eating candy and examining each other’s lips, tongues and teeth, stained purple, blue, red and green from the candy.
A left from our dirt road, then an immediate right placed you on Silver Lake Park’s unpaved road which was covered with white, chalky rocks. The park had a baseball field, a playground, a rec room, a snack bar, and a lake. First, on the left side of the road was the baseball field. Its diamond was formed by the helplessness of grass under lanky boys running the bases over and over again and depositing chewing tobacco in its trenches. White, square bases were missing from its points and steel bleachers containing teenage girls, moms and dads towered over it’s home plate.
Further down the white road, also on the left, was a playground filled with swings, seesaws, monkey bars and a merry-go-round. The stirrup swing seats hung from elevated bars, and if enough momentum was gained, swinging felt like riding on a roller coaster. Spanning eight feet, four splintered seesaws balanced on a steel pipe. It took planning and engineering to place one person on each side at the same time. Once on the seesaw, you were on guard because your partner might jump ship, letting gravity throw you to the ground with a painful thud. The monkey bars were made of cold, gray steel and were too small to present a challenge. However, the well-oiled merry-go-round was perfect for exploring varying degrees of dizziness. Steel bars protruding from its round, wooden platform allowed you to grab on with every limb.
On the right, across from the playground, was the rec room attached to the snack bar. The rec room’s warped wooden floors and paneled walls housed a jukebox, a pool table and flirting teenagers. Although no sign appeared over its entrance, the rec room was for teenagers only. (For my eighth birthday party, Mom reserved the rec room, and I invited girls and boys. We played the jukebox, ate birthday cake and acted as if we owned the place.) The snack bar’s two serving windows opened to the rec room and to the outside. Because nothing was better after a swim in the lake than a Snickers and a Coke, dripping wet kids holding soggy dollar bills were always lined at the windows.
The lake was the magnet of the park. Several covered, concrete picnic tables bordered its shore, a wooden, sturdy dock extended into its water and a high dive with peeling paint was anchored in its middle. Families, bringing enough food to feed an army, laid claim to the picnic tables. The dock was long and wide enough for dogs, sunbathers, meanderers, cannon ballers, divers and parents. Weeds, lily pads, slime and minnows were on the right side of the dock. The swimming hole was on the left side, and its bottom was soft white sand. Each year thousands of black tadpoles swarmed near the shore on the right side of the dock, and we would catch a few and take them home. I don’t remember what happened to them. I’d like to say that we released them once they grew into frogs, but they probably all dried up on the sides of our goldfish bowls.
I don’t remember what other attractions lie in Palatka, Florida because I was busy with sandspurs, treehouses, mud puddles, duck decoys, trampolines, mini-bikes, walks, horses, cows, sun, shade, jawbreakers, bubble gum, playgrounds, birthdays, tadpoles and swimming holes. I know there was a school and a public library because my parents made sure I frequented them, and there was a paper mill and a bank because that’s where they worked. And yes, there was a Pizza Hut. What a great place.
Your extremely ordinary life
Appearing mundane, stale
Uninteresting on the outside
Is one of the most faultless
Expressions of existence
We have witnessed.
The courage, bravery, strength
You found and exploited
Because you had no choice
Is the story we tell others
Who think they can’t make it
Through another day.
You danced with monsters
While they tore you to shreds.
Then you forgave them and
Found joy as your revenge.
Your sacred scavenger hunt
Took you inside and into places
That demanded all your guts
And gave you no glory
While you watched the
Rhinestone cowboys steal the show.
You graciously, brilliantly distilled the
Love, hate, pain, pleasure, joy, sorrow
Of this dense and confusing dimension
Into the revelation that
Love is the answer to the final question
While your heart aches to know what it means.
You liberated your skeletons
And became their best friend.
You broke free from the prison of shame and
And became grateful for your sins.
You discovered that joy and love are
Inside jobs with open doors
Welling up to meet you
No matter what happens or who leaves
Because you are the perfect expression
Of all that is and all that will be.
A beautiful thought appears to me
Everytime I see, smell and taste your
Stagnant, stinking waters
I don’t have to do this anymore
Any longer
Still
I’m not there
I’m here
I’m not young
I’m older
I’m not you
I’m me
I was the two ton elephant
Tied to a tree stump
With a two-foot rope
Not realizing I had the
Ability, power and strength
To get away
It never occurred to me
For many years
For too many years
My heart breaks for wasted time
The day I grasped I could escape
Was not the day I left
It took years of practice
Some days it felt like I abandoned you
Some days it felt like I absconded
Some days it felt like I was AWOL
You still send me invitations
To play in the filthy water
So, sometimes I jump in
Hoping it’s cleaner
But when I
Smell the familiar stench
Taste the familiar rot and
Feel the familiar chill
I instantly propel myself
Out of your dark cesspool
And back into my beautiful
Life
Each time I enter then leave
I am healed
A little more
I get stronger
The beautiful swell of freedom
Cleanses my heart and sweeps me
Forward
Never backward
And I know in the
Deepest part of my soul
I don’t have to do that anymore
Any longer
Still
The morning sunrise
Whispers a lover’s promise
I am already drunk on anticipation at 7 am
And I believe all things are possible
Little Cricket wags her tail
Hoping she’ll be included
Of course she will
We walk first
I get amnesia from the ocean breeze
I can’t remember what’s on my calendar
I forget yesterday’s pain
Bare feet on the sand
Damp with Earth’s tears of joy
Breath, joints, muscles synchronize
Cricket pees everywhere
She’s never been so happy
We jump in the car
Windows open, music blaring
Still drunk
A right turn onto Ocean Trace Road
At the famous Oasis Restaurant
Brings us to beach access
I nod with native confidence to the attendant
She sees my season pass stuck to the window
And waves me on
We belong here
We drive forward
And I see my friends
The ocean, the waves, the surf, the sand
The Sun, the blue sky, the clouds
I greet them and need them
I pray a prayer of thanks
We turn right onto the soft white sand
In search of the perfect spot
Windows still down
Music still going
Take a deep breath
10 miles per hour
My kinda pace
Most everything is better slow
We park
I grab my crappy umbrella and chair
I bought two summers ago at Target
I grab my Tesalate beach towel
And a bunch of other shit
You know how it is
First order of business is
To ground, to Earth
I lie on my beach towel
And let the Earth’s electric charge
Heal me
Cricket does the same thing
The ocean constantly sends over her negative ions
I heal some more
Mood, perspective, orientation improves
The secret is out on Beach Day
People are pouring in
Everybody has their style
And it’s fascinating to watch
Dogs, babies, toddlers, teens, lovers, mothers, families, retirees
Basking, walking, running, playing, eating, swimming
Very few places do I see so many happy people at once
We need more Beach Days.
I keep answering my phone
And driving over
Wishing these calls
Turn into more
Trading my body for tragic hope
When we’re done
I feel like a whore
I keep answering my phone
I keep blowing like it’s my birthday
Wishing your rough hands
Belong to someone I love
Losing my hope to tired numbness
When we’re done
I feel nothing to speak of
I keep answering my phone
When I’m alone,
Peace and comfort descend upon me.
When I am in a crowd,
I am heartbreakingly lonely.
The quiet is more interesting and
Pleasing than small talk.
I crave a deeper connection with you,
And I long to hear about
How you feel
How you love
What makes you happy
What makes you wonder.
Is there a way for us to get right to it?
Or do I need to earn your trust through
Meaningless blather?
Will you one day share yourself with me?
Or will you run away
Before we get to the good stuff?
You crown then tear into the world
No longer surrounded by
Warm, thick blood and water
You are cold
Your veins are closed
Free of your host’s chemicals
The hypnagogic jerks begin and
Never stop
You take your first breath and the
Absurd confusion sets in
Every moment thereafter is an
Attempt to deny or outrun it
We are all so confused
Young and old
But we don’t speak it
We expertly perpetuate it upon
Each other
I hear you creepin up outside my door
You’re never satisfied
You always want more
You better watch out man
I’m gonna take you to the mat
Cuz I got angels watchin my back
I said I got angels watchin my back
I feel you creepin up inside my shoes
You’re never satisfied
No matter what I do
You better watch out boy
I’m gonna stop you in your tracks
Cuz I got angels watchin my back
I said I got angels watchin my back
I know there will be
Better days ahead
Of waking up with the sun
And gettin out of bed
I know there will be
A place for me to rest
Where foam rolls over the sand
And every day is blessed
Outside the lakehouse, on summer days
The ghosts of children run and play
They share a memory and a spell
That none of them will ever tell
I could crucify you in my poetry with words
These children would give me the nails
I could execute you with my pen and sword
But the devil is ready for you in hell
He wants his son
He wants his glory
He wants his due
He wants his story
My pen, paper and warm, strong hand
Are no longer begging to fan the flames
My anger is happy in my heart’s new land
But the devil is still calling your unspeakable name
He wants your soul
He wants your brain
He wants your victims
He wants your pain
Inside the lake house, on summer days
My scars pace the floor, to and fro
They bump into memories on twisted pathways
That give the devil his eternal hold
Never in a million years
Did I think
That I’d be the fat girl
I never thought it would
Happen to me
Rephrase
I never thought I could
Do this to myself
But at the time
It made sense
It was my calling
It was the only way
Through and out
I don’t give a shit if you disagree.
It was about
Defiance
Anger
Healing
Independence
Freedom
Loss
Discovery
Courage
Opting Out
Joy
It worked for me then.
Twenty years later I found
I no longer needed it.
Defiance turns to curiosity
Anger merges into acceptance
Healing becomes strength
Independence no longer needs to be proved
Freedom is found within
Sadness is really tenderness
Loss graduates to gratitude
Discovery brings revelation
Courage is always there
Opting out becomes opting in
Joy is an inside job
Thirty years later
I still don’t need it
But it needs me
I’m climbing out
Of my fat girl grave
It’s slow going
Dirt keeps falling back in
Some days I lay in my fat girl grave
Looking up and enjoying the view
Some days I do a lot of digging
On good days my hands grab hold
Of roots and crevasses
And I can peek over the edge
On very good days
My hands reach over and out
My fingers touch
The green grass and flowers
One day I’ll be able
To dance around
My fat girl grave
And never fall back in
The gardner left the garden
The day after she planted and watered
Our talking heads have theories as to why
But most of us don’t care
The sun and rain visit when they can
The bees seem to know a few tricks
We guess and experiment what gardeners should do
And we get it wrong most times
Some predict a wilder, diverse, stronger garden
Some complain and cry
Some can’t see past today
Some predict its demise
Time both cheers and mocks the garden
Annoyed with its alarms
We press the snooze button again and again
None of us fully wake up
And should the gardner decide to return
We would welcome her with a resentful hope
Knowing it’s too late to save the garden
But Vegas will still take bets
I am incredible.
Incredibly happy
Incredibly sad
Incredibly sane
Incredibly mad
I am beautiful.
Beautifully shy
Beautifully outspoken
Beautifully perfect
Beautifully broken
I am strong.
Strongly still
Strongly shaken
Strongly free
Strongly taken
I am divine.
Divinely curious
Divinely sure
Divinely dark
Divinely pure
I am stunning.
Stunningly severe
Stunningly mild
Stunningly tame
Stunningly wild
I am perfect.
Perfectly soft
Perfectly hard
Perfectly healed
Perfectly scarred
Below my neck and above my solar plexus
Is where my scared child writhes
There’s not enough room for her though
And when she shudders in the murky darkness
My ribs crack and my lungs collapse
And way down we go
When she can’t take anymore
She tries to hide in my stomach, full of acid
Her skin and eyes burn
When she begins to drown
I am nauseated and starving at the same time
And way down we go
When she cries
We heave in unison
First from my core
Then up into my shoulders
Up into my throat
Up into my face
Shoving out tears that taste like blood
And way down we go
She screams at me
That the world is ending
That I am dying
That I need to jump out of my skin
And run as fast as I can
As far away as I can
There is nowhere safe
Now or ever again
And I believe her
I understand what you’re going through
I see you’re skin and bones
We’ll head for the coastline
As soon as we can
But until then
I’ll starve with you
There’s no doubt in my mind where we belong
No more waiting for a friend that’s true
I’m your angel in disguise
Meet me down by the ocean
As soon as you can
But until then
I’ll starve with you
The salt air will keep us young
There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do
You know I’m your ride or die
We’ll give all our worries to the sea
As soon as we can
But until then
I’ll starve with you
Our solidarity makes us strong
Imagine a sky of bluest blue
Let your heart give up its hole
We’ll make our move
As soon as we can
But until then
I’ll starve with you
Dance with me, they’re playing our song
Joyheart came into existence
Via pushing, confusion and fear
No one wanted to experience the event
Drugs nicely removed the pain and clear
Soft, stringy hair
Bright, brown eyes
Tan, knocked knees
Joyheart was alive
Joyheart grew wings and flew dreams
Out of pure spirit, delusion and need
No one noticed to encourage her flights
Negligent ignorance and dirty deeds
Styled, stringy hair
Blank, brown eyes
Breasts, full of nothing
Joyheart believed the lies
Joyheart clipped her wings and grounded her dreams
Because she couldn’t do what she couldn’t see
No one noticed the sliced oranges dipped in cinnamon sugar
Feeding her boredom and stealing her free
Long, stringy hair
Made up, brown eyes
Hips, full of ache
Joyheart hated her thighs
Joyheart lived many years in a fish bowl
Gulping, swimming around and around
No one could convince her there was another way
Until one moment when she nearly drowned
Wet, stringy hair
Watery, brown eyes
Belly, full of nothing
Joyheart was ready to rise
Joyheart grew back her wings and dreamed new dreams
Out of strength, determination and grace
Everyone championed her rise from the ashes
Fire under her wings, she soared above the waste
Burned, short hair
Red, brown eyes
Arms, full of ache
Joyheart began to fly
Joyheart adorns her wings and feeds her dreams
With hope, inspiration and faith
The entire universe answers when she calls
Healing her with its loving embrace
Sun, kissed hair
Wise, brown eyes
Heart, full of joy
Joyheart is alive
Maybe my purpose in life
Is to learn how to take care of
Some one
Some thing
Some animal
Some planet.
And then eventually to know how
To take care of
Myself.
Once I leave,
I won’t need anything.
I spend a lot of time
Pretending I’m not here.
But I am here.
And I need things.
I spend more time railing against my needs
Than meeting my needs.
I numb the pain that
Screams from self neglect.
The numbing makes me more needful.
I’m almost convinced that
The only way out is
Through.
Maybe my most important endeavor is
To take care of myself well.
Only then can I take care of
Some one
Some thing
Some animal
Some planet
Without resentment.
the morning sun is in you
know, understand and believe it to be so
feel the yellow
see the orange
taste the pink
open your heart to its heat
sneeze
the morning sun lifts the dark night
and makes invisible the suspicious shadows
light changes everything
perspectives
highlights
hues and saturation
the morning sun burns away the cold air
exhaled by the moon
dew drops glisten then disappear
mildew turns to dust
rocks, tree stumps and park benches are warm
when you need to sit and rest
the morning sun beckons the living
birds sing it into existence
dogs and turtles bask in its beams
pelicans ride the wind it warms
flowers open and soak it in
oceans, lakes, rivers and mud puddles
reflect its hope
it’s a new day and it’s inside you
My empty space of quiet
Allows me
Nourishes me
Loves me
Holds me
Humors me
Soothes me
And lets me be.
My empty space of quiet is
Full
Big
Loud
Energizing
Proud
Robust
Happy
Enough
And my dog likes it.
My empty space of quiet is my
Companion
Teacher
Mother
Father
Lover
Best friend
And it will always be there for me.
I learned my heart keeps score
It screamed until I could hear
Not a day goes by that it doesn’t have my ear
I traded in my fast car
And got off the mad freeway
Nothin’ on my agenda but breathing ocean spray
Hearts they can get angry
Hearts they can get hurt
Sometimes they run away
Sometimes they don’t return
I woke up this morning
And put a smile on my face
So don’t come ‘round here with your bullshit today
It’s the little things that kill
And expectations that maim
I let you walk away and gave myself some grace
Times they can be easy
Times they can be hard
It’s the hard that allows the easy
And the easy that allows the hard
It’s later than we would think
You think you can until you can’t
Only God knows how many beats your heart has left
I begin the finale
Of my unrehearsed dance
Following the piper’s march toward the expanse
This may be my heaven
This may be my hell
I surrender to whatever this is
I pray that it all ends well
Rain while the sun is shining
Smell of a baby’s head
Ice tea on the front porch
Kitty curled up in warm laundry
Mom picking you up from school early
Favorite song on the radio
Clean towel after a hot shower
Cold pizza in the morning
Smell of a boathouse
Sound of wind in the trees
Warm dog in your lap
Peace after a hard cry
Butterfly on a flower
Turkey in the oven
Swimming out to a sandbar
Writing with your favorite pen
The light of dusk on a Saturday
Rocking a child to sleep
Your lover saying your name
Sitting on a dock
Bare feet on a clean floor
Sleeping with a window open
Wild flowers on the side of the road
Birds singing at dawn
Corner piece of lasagne
Sky stained pink by a sunset
Hot sun on a cold day
Napping on a car ride
Smell of fresh cut grass
Full moon on an autumn night
Sitting in silence with your best friend
Fireflies in your front yard
My right index finger curls and moves towards the top, right corner of the label stuck to the back of my new writing journal. In this moment, I am hopeful. In this moment, I trust all humankind.
I scratch at the corner of the label with my fingernail until I’m able to coax a teensy bit of it away from the synthetic purple leather.
I remain hopeful. So far, all is happening as it should.
I continue scratching at the label until enough of it separates from the journal to allow me to firmly, but gently, grasp a small piece of its corner between my thumb and index finger. I’m feeling more in control now.
It’s time for a test for which there is no grade, only pass or fail. I emotionally prepare for disaster. My thumb and index finger still gingerly hold the corner of the label as I render a short but slow tug. One-quarter of the label separates without leaving a trace of itself behind. Pass! I am not yet out of danger.
I still trust all humankind. I believe the seller of the journal cares about me. Who is this kind soul? I want to read the label now. I’m stalling. I’m aware. It’s a coping strategy. I need more time to prepare for failure.
“Made in China.” Okay, that’s to be expected. Maybe I’ll find more connection with the distributor.
Markings by CR Gibson
Committed to quality since 1870
Designed with love in Nashville TN
I am feeling the love. I stop preparing for defeat and begin expecting victory. I’m certain this label will remove itself from its resting place in one piece, leaving no gummy white residue or invisible stickiness to later pick up dust and dirt. I made the right purchasing choice yesterday in Walgreens. I’m winning.
My trepidation disappears, and my hope transforms into faith.
I stop pulling at the label to prepare for the next phase of my mission. I breathe. I reposition the journal in my left hand. I examine all sides of the label, making sure there are no tears or separations. Check. I seize the already-pulled-away corner of the label once more with my thumb and index finger and … begin … to … pull … it … down … to … the … left.
I am not naive. I’ve been here before. I’ve seen it go all kinds of ways.
Focus! I keep peeling. There’s nothing more I can do to affect my desired outcome. I’m at the point of no return, and my fate is in the arms of the universe. I keep peeling.
Slowly peeling, pause. Slowly peeling, pause. I am so close and it’s been a fantastic journey. This label and I are simpatico. And there it is! A fairy-tale ending. With my skill and my belief in all things quantum, the label peels off completely and cleanly. Satisfaction. Success.
Today is a good day.
Purple patches of passion flower
Purple clouds over them tower
Purple sunset kisses the shore
Purple horizon promises more
Purple veins marble our legs
Purple hearts for our country bled
Purple lips when there’s no more air
Purple ribbons in purple hair
Purple robes on queens and kings
Purple ropes subliminal dividing
Purple shadow on a five dollar bill
Purple old fingers robbing the till
Purple haze in Jimi’s brain
Purple rain soaked Prince’s pain
Purple sky misses Jimi’s kiss
Purple sequins miss Prince’s hips
Purple grapes and purple beets
Purple tongue and purple teeth
Purple cups and purple bowls
Purple wine soothes the soul
Purple light pours into your crown
Purple bridge leads you round
Purple enlightenment, wisdom and sin
Purple everything, breathe it in
The only things that touch Ruby are gopher turtles, seaside rain and pelican shit. I ain’t seen it for myself, but I imagine a bird or two lands on’her for a half second. She only has one leg to stand on, but no Sumo wrestler could ever knock her to the ground. I wish I knew how old she was, but like any refined lady, she ain’t tellin.
She don’t mind the pelican shit. She knows it’ll dry up and be washed away come next rainstorm.
She stands between me and the ocean. But she ain’t in my way. Me and her watch the sun rise and set, the waves swell, crest and crash and the tide go in an out. She stays put during hurricanes. It’s easy to forget she’s there an I imagine that’s how she likes it.
I moved in next to Ruby last year but I didn’t notice her any for some two weeks. She’s the quiet, silent type. Seems like she’s got three or four children at her foot. I sure hope them dimwitted groundskeepers don’t machete them down. I just can’t watch when they come around. They cuttin down plants and such in the dunes that just don’t need to be cut. They ain’t got no botanist college degrees and they ain’t got no appreciation.
Makin friends with Ruby’s been easy. She don’t speak none. She don’t ask me questions neither. That’s why we get along so good. It ain’t in her way to be nothin but what she is. I know she’s gots things to say in her own tongue an in her own time. That wind comin in from the ocean helps her say’em. That wind gives her strength to say what’s on her mind and helps her articulate. She reminds me to listen to what I can’t hear and pay more mind to the silence than to the yellin.
I ain’t no treehugger or nothin but some mornins when I’m havin my coffee waitin for the sun to rise, I wanna sit beside her and hold her hand.
Cross-legged on bed
And done
Mindlessly palpating the expected,
Unexpected hematoma on arm
Uncooked pea under skin
(Tempted to count the bruises - three)
Palm caresses head
Forward, smooth fuzz
Backward, prickly bristles
Tape is already over mouth
Before that, pills swallowed
Ready to go unconscious into the darkness
Look over at sweet dog
Her eyes are closed
Her face is the peace I pray for
Lose my heart to her
Suddenly grateful for my next breath
It’s not going to be okay
And I’m okay with that
She came to this Earth
Looking for something to lose.
And when she noticed her
Life running out in front of her,
She did not try to catch it.
She didn’t know if she wanted to
Be the object or the awareness.
So she was neither.
She didn’t get the memo,
The punchline or the meaning.
Everyone was jumping rope,
And she could never figure out how to skip in.
She floated as far as she could
With no wind or water.
What kept her afloat is unspeakable.
Feet never on the the ground,
Always floating just above it all.
She kept floating higher and higher,
So far above.
No one’s arms could reach her.
She couldn’t hear anyone’s voice.
She just saw their mouths moving.
She kept floating higher
Until she couldn’t recognize anyone.
They all looked like ants.
She feels humiliated and duped.
How did so much promise
Turn into so much shit?
She’s still looking for something to lose.
It’s 1988, and I’m 22 years old. I buy my going-to-the-dance-club clothes at Lerners in the Gainesville Mall using their store charge card and my shoes at Payless using cash. My club outfit is always similar: black leggings, a pastel, thin-material, shiny top, a bright yellow or pink cotton jacket with huge shoulder pads and black, high-heel pumps. My hair is permed, highlighted and big. My eyeshadow color matches my shiny top, my lipstick is pink and my mascara is thick. It’s Saturday night, 9 pm, and I’m ready to party.
I meet my two girlfriends at a new dance club on SW 13th Street, just before you get to Williston Road. It has a second floor with balcony seating. Big time clubbing has come to my small town. It’s ladies’ night, and we enjoy a deep discount on watered-down Seabreezes in thin plastic cups. We grab our drinks and make our way up the stairs to the balcony that overlooks the first-floor tables and dance floor. I close my eyes and pretend I have a real career, real money and live in a real city.
We choose a table against the balcony’s edge, protected by a railing with enough space to dangle your foot through and over the seating area below. We simultaneously talk, scout the club for cute college boys and work to be noticed. We unconsciously mimic the available, desirable, female-in-waiting body language: backs arched so our breasts jut forward, lips sensually sucking our Seabreeze straws, hands constantly flipping our big hair to the left then to the right, legs crossed and feet dangling. This is a circus act, if you think about it.
With legs crossed, I’m dangling my foot through the balcony railing, letting the heel of my pump slide on and off my foot. Dangle, dangle. Slide on, slide off, slide on. I aim to flirt with the entire bar, to feel sophisticated and to forget I live in a one-story town making $14K a year as a mortgage loan processor.
My black pumps reflect my mindset and age. My mindset is to get the cheapest, easiest version of everything I buy because I can’t afford better. My trips around the Sun are too few to know you get what you pay for. My Payless black pumps are made of synthetic material, and I wear them everyday at work. After three or four months, the smell becomes unbearable and I’m forced to purchase new ones. Tonight, I am in the fourth month of the pair I’m wearing. I’m dangling and flirting with stinky pumps.
As I perform my circus act without a net, my stinky pump falls off my foot and lands upright in the middle of a table below occupied by two people who appear to be on a date. I am mortified! I don’t say a word to my girlfriends and double check that this really just happened. I look at my foot and see no stinky pump on it. I look down at the table below and see my stinky pump and two confused people staring up and back at me. Shit!
I evaluate my options as I would like nothing better than to disown my stinky pump and never let on that I failed at foot dangling. The options of going home immediately or ditching my other stinky pump for a barefoot evening are not possible because I need those stinky pumps come Monday morning. Payless is closed tomorrow.
I immediately understand the correct course of action. I first alert my girlfriends to the situation, laughing nervously because I know my naked dangle foot just became swampfoot. My girlfriends laugh but none of them offer to rescue my stinky pump. I get up from my chair to begin a walk of shame down to the first floor. To salvage dignity, I keep my other pump on, causing me to bob up and down as I walk across the floor and down the stairs. I’m afraid the stench from my stinky pump on the table below is close to reaching the couple’s nostrils. I bob faster.
I approach the table displaying my stinky pump as its centerpiece. The couple isn’t doing much about the dilemma. They are looking back and forth between themselves and my stinky pump, not saying a word. Their half smiles indicate they may be curious or amused. I reach over, grab my stinky pump and blurt, “Sorry!” I drop my stinky pump to the ground and instantly slip into it. I pray the club’s ventilation system shows kindness to the couple.
I walk back up the stairs as if nothing happened with my head lifted high, back arched, breasts jutting, hips swaying. I promise myself I will buy new stinky pumps every month from this moment forward. As I reach the top of the stairs, the hilariousness of it all descends upon me, and I begin to laugh. I sit down at the table with my friends, and they are laughing with me. It’s going to be a great night.
The coastline courts me
But I belong to another
It’s a place I dream of
A dream to keep me young
Seems I can’t have it all
When you finally leave me
You keep saying you will
I’ll marry the ocean
You are the love I dreamed of
A love that saved me
Seems I can’t have it all
The heart needs an ache
To prove it can heal
To be able to feel
The heart needs an ache
Looking for love
In the darkest of places
Drinking the ocean
To quench my thirst
Tasting rancid love
Chewing it
Spitting it out
Bitter acid
Never loved by hands that touched me
Substituting love
Sipping and gulping
Diving into bottles
Trips back and forth
All you can eat
Secret rendezvous
With salt and fat
Never full
Never loved by what I consumed
A far away laugh
From a distant island
Inside my telephone
Inside my head
I needed a heart like hers
But she was too far away
She gave me hope that love is alive
In a miracle of planets and stars aligning
She came to me
I knew her before I met her
She showed me the way home
I made perfect sense to her
She was less broken and childish
The days gave us years
The years gave us everything
The hardest and most tears
The softest and most laughter
This is the love that saves me
I’ll write one million poems about this one thing
Until my until my heart unbreaks
Until my soul is free
I’ll pray one million prayers begging for this one thing
Until I’m released from a hell that
Deals out a lifetime of pain every second
Who do I need to speak to
Who do I gotta blow
To lift this curse of DNA and confusion
Dues have been paid with one million tears
My well is dry
Do you want some flesh and bone
If we aren’t going to resolve this one thing
In this one lifetime
Just let me know
If I can’t break free of this one thing
Then set me free into the numbness of hopelessness
Just let me know
Mother and father
Happy and sad
Amnesia or memory
Do you get mad?
Tangerines and lemons
Sweet and sour
Fat or skinny
Do you have the power?
Sickness and health
Rich and poor
Better or worse
Do you hate your chores?
Grin and bear it
Bite the bullet
Come to grips
Face the music.
Swallow the pill
Pay the piper
Take your lumps
Face the facts.
Pull yourself up
Do you have any boots?
Ticking and tacking
Back and forth
Sun or shade
Do you want more?
Wanting and waiting
Empty and full
Up or down
Do you push or pull?
Life and death
Hot and cold
Quick or slow
Do you want to know?
Is this a prison or a school?
I can never tell
There’s fried rice in the rafters
There’s french fries in the library
Do I sleep in a cell or a dorm?
I can never tell
Red wine trickles down the walls
The mattress is made of pasta
Is that a warden or a teacher?
I can never tell
She tells me it’s okay in the evenings
And whips me in the mornings
My confusion turns to craving
My honor searches for a kinder host
My stomach is alway empty
Especially after I eat the most
I start to watch and listen
More than I drink and eat
I discover secret passageways
I cherish the rhythm of my heartbeat
I walk for years through corridors
Most of them black, some gray
I fall down into an open space
This is my breakaway
Is this a garden or a playground?
I can never tell
There’s jasmine on the monkey bars
There’s honeysuckle on the merry-go-round
Will I ever get the answers?
I can never tell
Death dangles a revealing
Of nothing, heaven or hell
I keep telling you it’s me
I’m down in this dark pit
We won’t remember how I got here
You can only see me in black and white
If you saw me in color
You would lose your mind
To the truth
I keep telling you to eat
I don’t care if you’re full
I haven’t eaten in weeks
I reach up with my bony hands and fingers
Trying to grab what you swallow
You are a mama bird trying to feed its chick
You keep missing or you choke me
I keep telling you I’m real
I have protected you all these years
How dare you doubt me
We would be nothing
Without my pain, hunger and anguish
I am your familiar hell
You decided to dive into my womb
Where there’s no death or conception
I gave birth to you through tides and moon
With me, you always have connection
You can tell me anything
There’s nothing I haven’t heard
There’s nothing I haven’t seen
You don’t need any words
Jump head first into my crashing waves
If you want to know what it means to be alive
Don’t be afraid of my undercurrent
It will deliver you to the other side
You can tell me anything
There’s nothing that’s forbidden
There’s nothing that’s taboo
You don’t need to be forgiven
You’ve been doing this for a million years
You won’t be done for a million more
Cast into my ocean all your fears
And redeem yourself upon my shore
You can tell me anything
There’s nothing you have to hide
There’s nothing you could have done
I’ll always be by your side
Can’t do buzzing lights or ticking clocks
Screaming in crowds puts me in shock
If you want to hang and talk with me
Let’s turn off the damn TV
Some days I’m hyper, can’t sit still
Some days I’m calm, just need to chill
I need my space, I need my time
I’m not crazy, it’s just my mind
I understand what I say
I understand what I do
It must hurt to be pushed away
It’s not you baby, it’s all me
With just a touch of neurospicy
I know I’m extra, maybe mean
I might snap if it’s not routine
A loving hug will feel like fire
When I’m sad or overtired
We’re in too deep, it’s not a fling
You say my honey is worth the sting
I’ll work to soften my many edges
And talk myself off of the ledges
I understand what I say
I understand what I do
It must hurt to be pushed away
It’s not you baby, it’s all me
With just a touch of neurospicy
Nineteen with a talent for dead reckoning
Still learning the stars you could trust
Dreams in the balance, pushing you forward
No one but you understood the rush
You never sailed close to the shoreline
You knew smooth seas were empty and void
You knew deep waters gave up their treasures
And crashing waves held all the rewards
Sometimes there was no sight of a lighthouse
Dark skies with no stars, no wind to be found
The compass danced around you telling lies
Sleepless nights kept you from running aground
You met ghosts who crashed or died trying
You cried tears only the ocean knew about
You knew no one was coming to save you
You don’t talk about the pain and doubt
See that ball of fire cresting over the horizon
Its light shows you you’re already home
Sailing on an ocean that’s wild and wide
You’re on a beam reach with no end in sight
Sunlight and diamonds dance in your wake
Raise your glass and let the good times roll
You’re the master of your destiny
Make it worth the price you paid
Life keeps moving and time marches on
New moons, new tides and new life
Forever changed by your champion’s journey
It might be time to anchor and slow down
A dark night of the soul may be upon you
Or a vision quest to find your heart’s sound
Dance with your skeletons, make them your friends
Listen to angels who call you by name
Talk with them and try not to run
When it feels unfamiliar, lean into the wind
You’re in a race you’ve already won
Look into others’ eyes more than you look down
Everyone is fighting a storm that’s within
Love is the answer to all the questions
See that ball of fire cresting over the horizon
Its light shows you you’re already home
Sailing on an ocean that’s wild and wide
You’re on a beam reach with no end in sight
Sunlight and diamonds dance in your wake
Raise your glass and let the good times roll
You’re the master of your destiny
Make it worth the price you paid
You know what really matters in the end
I drink and spend too much when I feel dry
I eat and talk too much when I get high
I tell dirty jokes when it gets too quiet
I’m super intense, ain’t going to deny it
Your righteous indignation and nose in the air
Like you ain’t never had one too many beers
If I hijack a moment or two when my filters are gone
Remember your shit stinks too and let’s just move on
But
I know
I’m too much and not enough at the same time
Guess what
My bag of fucks is empty and I’m so fine
You told
My girlfriend you don’t want me at your party
But she
Likes me and thinks you’re two-faced and snotty
We all know I’m sharp as a tack and funny as hell
You’ve seen me listen with my heart and wish you well
My intentions are good, and my hands are clean
I don’t talk shit about no one, and I ain’t that mean
I understand I ain’t your people or your cup of tea
No hard feelings my friend, it’s alright with me
We had many good times that I’ll never forget
And when it’s all said and done, I’m happy we met
And
I know
I’m too much and not enough at the same time
Guess what
My bag of fucks is empty and I’m so fine
You told
My girlfriend you don’t want me at your party
But she
Likes me and thinks you’re two-faced and snotty