Categories
Writing

Haiku For You

Suppressed, I yearn still

Perfected a cheesecake too!

Cooled on window sill

Categories
Writing

We Strive for 5!

Ma’am, it was my sincerest pleasure. Have a lovely day!

Hey!

Hi, how can I help you?

I want the specials she got. I want stuff.

You can have things too. How can I help you today?

Hmmm… I want a chocolate shake but I only want it with half the chocolate but I’d like you to blend it with whipped cream in the blender.

That sounds nice.

And also no cherry but if you could put a strawberry….cut into a fan on top?

Side of fries would be perfect would that, wouldn’t it?

Yes please.

Yes sir. Ten dollars and fifteen cents total.

Thank you.

Thank you too.

Wow I want what he got.

Well what would you like today?

I want to tell you that I love the way you handle business.

Thank you. I know we really just want to be treated like royal—whoops I mean loyal—loyal customers.

(Both of them) Well, both.

They each catch themselves and laugh.

What would you like, sir?

Categories
Writing

He Really Shoots

He really shoots.

Just shoots into the dead air between him and whomever needed it.

And turned to me, confused.

As confused as I was that my heart was beating so fast toward him.

I would never have to worry about him backing down.

From a fight…but also from anything else.

Categories
Writing

To the Cop Who Phoned My Mother to Tell Her I Was in Danger

by Susana H. Case Of course, she didn’t trust your gestapo blurt of words.She came from a cultureabused by authority. You wanted her at the precinct,…

To the Cop Who Phoned My Mother to Tell Her I Was in Danger
Categories
Writing

Dominic, Pt. 2

Take the lump in your throat and find out if it can be repurposed as a gulp of confidence. It’ll fade like the recording did…

“The truth?

I was wrong and the proof is out there…”

Categories
Writing

SS Faraway

Reaching over the side of the boat, my stomach rested completely on the ledge. I felt I could keep reaching over, land full body into the water, and somehow back through the underside of the boat to where I was, but soaked.

Categories
Fiction Writing

Sam Saw It Too

“Good morning,

I hope this email finds you well. You must understand I feel the obligation to report anything out of the ordinary. There’s a young girl who expends a great deal of energy trying to go unnoticed. She moved into the building, maybe it’s been a year and a half, and probably would have gone just so—unnoticed, that is—if it hadn’t been my job to take notice of her. But then on Thursday I noticed she got out of an F150 around 4p and this time a young guy was with her. Not the type I think she’s usually with, but he got out with her.

Now, what happened next is just my biased interpretation of what I remember and I am sure you’ll have more than a few people call you about this, but I do not have time to double-back so I have to send this to you while I can still remember detail. So please do as my wise aunt says and “take the meat and throw away the bones.”

My memory is cloudy as it all happened so fast and emotion caught me by surprise being at home. Also this girl is how my daughter (one day) will be after I can teach her how to notice things. Anyway the girl and the young guy approached a car on foot from about 40 yards away. The girl knocked on the window, crouching down to the driver within at eye-level. The engine started running then. The guy moves the girl away and stands in her place. Eye-level. He motions for the window to come down.

No movement and the engine was still running. The guy handed her something, she started to puncture the tires one at a time and the guy stood at eye-level to the driver the entire time. Engine off after the third tire. The only tire untouched being the driver front tire. The girl hands the tool back to him and the person we’ve all been waiting for steps out of the car.

“Open it!”

The young man must have been as tired and angry as he looked because he couldn’t deal with the dialogue. And do you know… even now, as I write this… and every time I think it over I am more and more sure that young man is exactly the man I think he is.

In that trunk—they made the driver open it up—was a dog in painful condition. She had to carry the dog out of the trunk and brought to health from there, but it took all night. Luckily the vet is a mile and a half away, but it shouldn’t be this way.

Anyway the young guy looked like he wanted to carry that girl. The same way she needed to carry the dog. I just couldn’t believe any of it. The world is so strange. I’m exhausted now that I’ve written it all. If you need corroboration, Sam saw it too so I cc’d them. Be safe and keep the neighborhood safe.

– Torrence Oberlin Jr.”

Categories
Writing

When We Clock In

We clock out at the same time also

So when the slivers of sun tiptoe through the office blinds

I recoil

And then recoil at the thought that this cave has blinded me

Until I don’t want to see myself anymore and my cubicle even less

Categories
Writing

Passenger Seat

Sicker than a sticker on streets like splat

Whatever the word was

Just jiggle the keys and I’ll juggle the rest

Categories
Poetry Writing

Hard to Keep Distance

Between me and the fridge

Just a short walk

That hurts a bit now that I think about it

Would be great to have a mini fridge

In my room.

Categories
creative nonfiction Writing

Morning Egg

It’s still early enough

And I need to get the juices flowing

My fingers and hands stay remarkable still, though I’m an anxious mess each morning

The execution is so key to the end result

The first, loud click is heard throughout my apartment.

Then the next

Before I know it, I’m looking at a short two sentences sure to start a verbal war on Twitter.

I start, “This may be an unpopular opinion and I may be suspended for it…”

Categories
creative nonfiction Poetry Writing

Unloving Love

Today, I’m at the freehand on Ohio (19 E), feeling fortunate that I can leave

then to

somewhere to sleep the same night

then to

my need to rush the gauntlet where people (are meant to) battle to meet (but ultimately fall short of) my lofty expectations

then to:

negative ruminations behind

and a mind to be sure when this happens next time…

I’ll end the war in a loft

some place more than just “somewhere to sleep the same night”

Categories
Poetry Writing

No Title 001

Some times

you escape

me elude me

‘Til you’re

far gone

Categories
Fiction Writing

Phew! Scene 2

If I wasn’t before

Well then now I am.

You can’t make me,

But I am getting out of the car

And this is the end of the road

It’s been six years and I haven’t seen that face since then.

Categories
Poetry Writing

Phew! Scene 1

Read the note written in caps.

Hand quivers a bit.

Wait.

Turn the body slowly slowly [but not the gaze] back toward them.

Just stay there, almost looking them in the eye.

Then let them make the decision.

“Whatever. It’s not even fun taunting you anymore.”

Phew! Almost needed to be brave.

Categories
Poetry Writing

The Truth of The Spare Tire

What do I have a spare tire for? I don’t even know how to drive.

I told my friend I didn’t have friends and he agreed. I wanted to meet new people, but then I couldn’t find any good reason I’d leave my place to meet people.

Categories
creative nonfiction Poetry Sonnets Writing

Sonnet 001

Though she be bare, each curve is free from chinks;

For times her life leaned on a draining source

I swore we’d last that one night over drinks

The words themselves pushing me forward with force.

I’d hoped so deep the technician was right

Restoration: new battery and case;

We’d go back to where we were that night

My mind occupied, blue light in my face.

The bulk was done and now came time to choose;

You deserve new color and brand new air;

Bells and whistles, I splurged for full kit, too!

Saving you showed me plainly I was bare.

The things I own, I told myself, held worth.

Without care, how’d I expect you to go forth?

Categories
creative nonfiction Writing

The 12:20 Ride

Alecs was lucky to be able to hop into this Uber. It was under $8 on a route they’d been taking for months. At the beginning of February the price averaged as low as $6. These days, the lowest has been $13. Now, the other passenger pipes, “Why don’t you try driving for Lyft? I hear they pay well.” It donned on him: ride share apps are so communal in their design that the people (passenger and drivers) will always be on the same side–despite some of those thinly-veiled attempts to pit drivers and passengers against each other, disguised as emails explaining price differences.

Although he had a question for the other passenger, he thought it better to let the thought die in his head than ruin this ‘carpool’ that landed them together 2 days out of every week at 5:40 each morning.

“Why would you want someone to drive for the company with which you chose not to do business? For whatever reason, this Uber ride made more sense for you. In my case the decision was financial. Whatever your reasoning, you got into this car using one app and suggested the driver do the exact opposite. Perhaps this is part of your grand scheme. The more drivers leave Uber, the less drivers the company will need to pay for idling. The cheaper your Uber rides will be in four months. For about eight weeks straight. Right before the prices soar again. You know, due to lack of sufficient drivers.

The most difficult part of Alecs’ days were sharing spaces with strangers and trying to prevent a screwed up face. Now all is covered like silent show and long gone are the days of shared rides. What was once nonsense-talk to carry on conversation, now feels like a monologue belched out on an island shared with no one. What some of us wouldn’t do to catch water-cooler talk! To speak to someone in the car and get as wrapped up in details as you both allow until the end of your trip together. How deeply we used to be wrapped up in the details!

Categories
creative nonfiction Writing

Shards Will Nestle the Marble

I fear, on the day of my wedding, we will drop our glass and won’t care where the shards fly. We’ll receive the news. It will be time for us to leave to the wilderness. I’ll be shocked at how irrational I feel, but I’ll be upset–so upset I will refuse to flee in time. I won’t forgive myself if I miss a dance with my father. We sometimes speak on the phone. I feel the fizzing ringer and the phone lights itself. I do some smalltalk with him until nearly twelve minutes when, once again, I see we are both are so keenly aware we have failed where we could’ve connected. It would kill him just as much to miss the father-daughter dance.

We might just take those moments to sway while boulders ripple the ground in vibrations around us. Something metallic sounds like it could hit us next time. Each time we hope its the next time and not this time. Our audience will be partially made up of those crying and looking for cover. The rest will be made up of those too enthralled by the issues of others, they will risk their safety to see us. “They waited until the very last moment to admit there was a gap between.” We will spin both in our favor. They are here to see us.

So my romantic half… Who is to say he doesn’t also see himself waiting for the fall of boulders to stop him from marrying me. Until I know him, I can count on what I have. And I am still imagining what isn’t quite here. So I feel no guilt wanting all the romantic pleasantness even if we are running out of serious time. It feels like as I lay here, looking out at the orchid leaves in the midnight lights, it doesn’t make sense this desire should be off limits. Can’t we all want different things? When I am considering what I personally want, to hell with progressiveness! And never come back!

I know one of the songs I will dance to (even if it has to be with my father): “You are the Ocean” by Phantogram. Even if the song is in my head or I hum it while I cry.

“He loved me. Because he loved me, he waited to hold me. He waited. He waited. And when he finally, finally, finally finally did hold me, there was warmth and acceptance and understanding and purity.” – I cannot remember if I wrote this line or read it.

Categories
Writing

Mochi-chan

Chew on your foot

Sleep on your pillow

Walk with your step

Paws on your chin

So you’ll drop your attention down to me

You have me now

When at one time

Watashi wa inu o mochimasen deshita