Monday, June 20, 2016

When I am Lost (and hot and lonely and wanting)

It's been really hot outside today.  The dog has been acting up and I feel guilty for leaving the house to 'take care of things.'  And it's been almost 4 years in this city and I still feel so fucking lonely.

And, yes, I dreamed about you again, as if I can help it, and you told me she has a horse and you've gotten to ride it and I stare at you with as much envy and curiosity as I can muster.

And my lovesick partner has gone home again and these are the times I realize that I am missing so much.

You show me your scars & I'll show you mine?  Or something like that.

Monday, January 25, 2016

Mondays

I think most things are made up of little secrets.  Like my dog, heavy on my leg, fast asleep, all limbs and fur and freckly nose; a heart that beats like mine.  I wonder if she misses her brother, her human 'dad,' all those afternoons we spent at the park throwing balls?

I wonder if he misses us, thinks about us as much as I do about them.  Wondering if they're okay, if he's in love, if he feels like he's able to breathe and laugh really hard again.

And when I fidget in the night, how someone else's hands reach out and pull me in close, so I can smell his stale breath and earthy skin.  How he tells me, "I've never loved as much as I love you."

My heart aches for family again, four walls disconnected from this, grass growing out back.

The chance to let go.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

On Loss

It is hard to handle loss;
invited or otherwise
she hangs on my t-shirt like 
the grimy fingered 5 year old I used to watch on

Sunday nights.  When his mom went to her 
meetings so
she could be a better
mother
wife
caretaker
human.

She demands my attention,

pulls me one way then the 
other.
I can't resist her watery eyes,

the fierceness of her tug.

I want to watch tv or
put dino-bites in the toaster oven,
or anything else.

I swear it will be the last time,

no more bounced checks
no more dried macaroni on my second-hand jeans:
I'm getting too old for this!

Yet somehow it is Sunday again,

I pull up to the house, let myself inside
they see me
and
run.



Monday, August 24, 2015

If Nothing Ever Changes

I have had the pleasure of raising a critter, of petting her soft belly and praising her for peeing in appropriate places.  I have loved long and hard and given up on things I shouldn't have and fallen again.  I've done my best making a home in a place where I was told would 'never really feel like home.'  I have ridden bikes and laid on the grass and the sand and been burned in the sun and came back to do it all over again.  I have lied and behaved cowardly and confessed and smiled and fallen again.
For all these things, and if nothing changes, I have lived.

Thursday, June 18, 2015

Like the Fox

I want to write about how lousy this week has been and how my throat has been so sore that I can barely speak above a whisper and how it was so hot in the apartment last night that I started sweating immediately after my shower, and fuck, I live in the valley now (kind of).

But then I see this quote on someone's Instagram (sorry, I should have read it in a book) and get rearranged AGAIN:

Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

-WB

The 'manifesto' goes on to say some pretty strange things like, every day do something that won’t compute and  Love someone who does not deserve it and Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.

But back to the fox.

Can I be the fox?  Am I already the fox?  Are we all foxes at some points in life?  I like to think so.  If you could look at a map of where I've (we've) been I'm sure it would be covered in tracks, probably most in the wrong direction.  I guess this doesn't necessarily have to be bad.

Regardless of what you hold most dear, resurrection is typically a rejuvenating thing, right?

Monday, June 8, 2015

The Unexamined Life

It has been so warm outside today.  I walk my dog less than a mile and start to feel the beads of sweat forming on the skin above my heart, absorbed into my cotton shirt before I have a chance to awkwardly shoo them away.

I have noticed almost every piece of trash between Magnolia and Chandler (to my disappointment, so has the dog), the abandoned repair shops, the gigantic self storage warehouse, the Big Lots across the street...today everything is ugly to me.

This is my life.  I just started to worry that maybe I am living an unexamined one.  I do not want to wander mindlessly down these littered streets and come up empty when I unlock the security gate at the entrance to our modest apartment.

I treated myself to some flowers at the local farmers market yesterday.  They're in a glass on our kitchen/work table and, believe me, they are lovely.  I'm not going to say that I want to be like the flowers, that I never want to worry about how I look or what I'll wear...but I do want to be lovely.

Most days I take a line from the Princess Diaries, stare at my reflection, think "This is as good as it gets," breathe in a good-natured sigh and pour some grapefruit juice for my early morning commute.

Because, I suppose, "good" can be enough.

For now.

Sunday, May 17, 2015

"It Can Be Easy" i.e. it doesn't have to feel hard to be good

One time I bought some very manly flowers for a boy I liked and it didn't turn out too well.  I know nothing about love but I have to say that I hit some sort of luck jack pot to have ended up here.

All the love my limping but hopeful cardiovascular muscle can pump for this sweet heart fast asleep next to me.