Crevassed crimson, slightly chapped,
indents match where they meet.
Pupils dilate behind shuttered eyelids,
even brighter than beach sun you are.
So rested, so close to you,
touching - my shoulders reach for clouds.
I almost become one - blue and drifting,
yet substance weighs me down.
Your other hand in my hair
to say - stay, just a moment longer.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Cart Part Two
I walked away
without a
sound.
I
even averted
eye contact before
getting up and
leaving to
make
a
call outside
around the corner.
Two French people
were sitting
at
a
table outside
so I returned
to bask in
their language.
When
they
left, she
came out. She
silently sits in
front of
me.
She
just clapped
her hands. She
knows I'm writing
about her.
She
can
feel my
auric interrogation. She's
wearing a green
barrette in
her
hair
which keeps
catching my eye.
without a
sound.
I
even averted
eye contact before
getting up and
leaving to
make
a
call outside
around the corner.
Two French people
were sitting
at
a
table outside
so I returned
to bask in
their language.
When
they
left, she
came out. She
silently sits in
front of
me.
She
just clapped
her hands. She
knows I'm writing
about her.
She
can
feel my
auric interrogation. She's
wearing a green
barrette in
her
hair
which keeps
catching my eye.
Cart
What makes me
stall on
a
possible
conversation with
the bag lady
sitting across the
aisle from
me?
She's
more than
likely a mother,
grandmother or other
form of
matriarch
with
layers of
stories only people
who have lived
like her
posses.
A
publisher's dream,
assuming she speaks.
Her Walmart cart
contains two
throw
pillows
embroidered with
posies. They are
brown. As I
write this,
I
remember
a friend's
cousin. It could
be - let me
know. Still:
bandana,
yellow
plastic grocery
bag, water bottle.
White hair, wrinkled
skin, winter
hat.
I
hope she
has a home.
stall on
a
possible
conversation with
the bag lady
sitting across the
aisle from
me?
She's
more than
likely a mother,
grandmother or other
form of
matriarch
with
layers of
stories only people
who have lived
like her
posses.
A
publisher's dream,
assuming she speaks.
Her Walmart cart
contains two
throw
pillows
embroidered with
posies. They are
brown. As I
write this,
I
remember
a friend's
cousin. It could
be - let me
know. Still:
bandana,
yellow
plastic grocery
bag, water bottle.
White hair, wrinkled
skin, winter
hat.
I
hope she
has a home.
On a date at starbucks
Not me.
Some other lovely people.
Man with eyebrows animated and feet fidgety.
"I thought women were wired that way."
"Hmmm..."
"Well, you could always go somewhere else."
"No, hmhmmhm, I didn't say it like that.
"I think it's great."
Some other lovely people.
Man with eyebrows animated and feet fidgety.
"I thought women were wired that way."
"Hmmm..."
"Well, you could always go somewhere else."
"No, hmhmmhm, I didn't say it like that.
"I think it's great."
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Here y'all go...dance time!
So many passions of mine rolled into one captured moment.
The Jim Oblon trio is definitely amazing and they play at The Owl Shop every Monday night again. I'm so glad Jim is back from touring.
Chris, my dancing counterpart, taught me how to dance like that. Yay Chris!
In the background is an interesting conversation as well. I had told my friend that I had never seen myself dance and he was kind enough to film it for me. :)
YAY!
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