“‘S’cuse me ma’am. I’m lost.
I can’t find grandpa nowhere.”
“Funeral room five.”
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Tag: questions
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Water Has Been Found
Ridges cleave open
Sun screens burn to smithereens
Mars? Arizona!
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Leaning In
Replying to the last of my clients and closing Outlook, I lament the ticket to D.C. that will go unused tonight. I fight back a tightness in my throat that I’ve come to understand needs two fingers of whiskey to solve at the end of the day. No one did this to me.
I always said you’re not ready to start your own company until you can’t remain at any other company.
Truthfully, I let myself steal from myself. I stole my future from myself. Procrastinating to avoid managing emotions about living. The reward of putting things off…that feeling becoming an addiction in itself. A dream adjacent my true dream.
My vision for this company is like rain. Cleaning out self-pity and distractions that tug at my memory, emotional reserves, concentration, and—
“¿Qué cenamos?”
“Dejame…”
He scurries away like I’ve just raised my hand to slap him. Maybe he’ll ask his father and be scared enough to actually leave me alone. I love my kids. I love my kids. I love them. But I can’t love my clients, kids, boss, husband, churchgoers, everyone! Can I?
I pour the whiskey and set my out of office email with no return date.
Meet me 4pm
Hand on hand like a mirror
“I’ve missed you darling.”
If love is a hotel…
And my love is on the top floor…
What gets me in the door?
To the front desk?
On the elevator?
With a key to the top floor? (Of course that floor is locked and guarded by fearsome goons.)
To the same room on the top floor?
And into his arms to save his life?
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Alone In My Mind
With clanging whirlwinds
Still meditating—no breath—
My own voice unheard
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Lake Michigan Winter Date
Crystal ice like shells
Once we fall through, won’t we freeze?
Scurry back laughing
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The Starting Over
I stir the cream into my coffee. The sky is lit with the moon and it keeps me awake enough to race with my thoughts. “Compatible,” I think. I keep getting hit with this word when I least want to hear it. When I make a play for permanence, the other party starts their doubts. “Is it me or her timing?” “Is she consistent?” “Is she looking at me right now?” I don’t want to make them uncomfortable, but I do. And then they hit me with it. “Do you think we’re compatible?” And the next move is crucial. Because once they ask, there is only one correct answer.
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Brings Him Glory
I couldn’t think of something more peaceful to do than sit on the grass in the sunlight and let my warmth and the temperature of the grass come to one stable level. It is even more than touching snow until fingers freeze just slightly. Like flow. The beautiful mornings are given to us by God and the perfect temperature is something set by the Lord. Even when we assume details that please us are too trivial for the Lord, remember that he made it so grass shows up as individual blades instead of one large patch of a waving piece of oxygenated plant. He detailed it so that grass is singular. So I must see the small pleasures as singular—a detail given to me, once again, by our true and living God. Because he is living he can also enjoy the fruits of his labor.
Whenever I feel warm I imagine that the atmosphere is giving me a hug, keeping me close and safe and comforted like a child. When it is cold I want to cry. And then both are love and beauty and detail from God and in all he is righteous.
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Love Then Lost
All the while we snooze
Sorrow billows, tears…. pillows
‘Tis better to have…
Clouds move, but don’t pass
Clung to me with “I need you”
Darkened day and night
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A Vow, Maintained
She told her father
But he couldn’t disannul.
Head hung, she went on.
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God’s Mercy
If I had to choose,
Criticism than lashings.
Lashings than to die.
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.
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Sandsuckers
In the morning they installed 100% California Bluegrass. Avalon made people around her vindictive and impatient when she wasn’t trying to. To them, she was obtrusive in sight and impossible to get out of their heads.
So the night before, when they thought no one could find them for being so dark, I saw with my own two eyes, they poured at least three feet deep…barrels and barrels and barrels full of sand through her lawn and shoveled through. Whatever owner she planned to sell this house to, they did not want them growing a single bud. Months later I heard it told she had a conversation with the owner.
When asked what type of plant was growing from the ground she said “Sand suckers.” It obviously went over their heads, but created for an awkward enough lull in conversation to transition her out of the home now that the sale was done. The sale always got done. Their thoughts about her started making them uncomfortable and she finally, in her thirty-second year in life, had become comfortable with the tenseness in the air around her. And Avalon wanted to talk more about the grass. To tell them they had a lawn that was quite literally resistant to sand and weeds because she…
But she got the hint. She always got the hint even if too early—even if before there was a hint. And left happy, leaving them happy in their new home.
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Should Not Even Be A Word
What is not gradient?
What flow of time isn’t eventual memory loss?
What remembrance wasn’t each day feeling the real thing less and less and then transferring sensation into delusional perception—for the sake of not fading?
What isn’t gradient?
It should not even be a word.
What catatonic love wasn’t daily forgetting why anything was worth the efforts?
Who is born as man?
Who is born, skin already taught?
Flesh nearly ready to burst?
Ready to give up into deadly
nothing but still
Floating into air like interpretive dance and all muscles pulsing?
Who is born man?
What song isn’t transition from now until the end?
Pearson Pivot 