as i walked out one evening.

"O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress;
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

"O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart."

It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming
And the deep river ran on.
-W. H. Auden

cavities.

There was a time in my life when I wrote about my heart's laments in a black, hard bound journal.
I also had a special [non-blogger] blog that held all my adolescent secrets.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself.
Maybe they were secret, but that certainly didn`t mean I didn`t want them to be found. In fact, if I'm honest with myself, if I didn`t want something to be found, why would I have put it on the internet?! Just think about it.
Any way.
I got pretty good at posting cryptic messages about the boys in my life. Or should I say, the boys [I wished were] in my life.
But one in particular had really caught my eye. Nathen with an "e" not an "a" wore a dress shirt and tie to school every day of the 10th grade. Because he "didn`t want to buy uniform shirts, &this was my only option."
What a guy.
Didn`t matter that I was a year older. He was way out of my league.
So in my little online journal, I would practice writing letters that I would never send to this counter-cultured 16 year old.
Fast forward to 5 years later, &through some smiling of the gods, Nathen &I have developed a friendship of sorts. It mostly involves a bi-annual 20 minute phone call, and a few letters here &there. Nothing too demanding. Nothing too promising.
He`ll probably grow up to be some big, hot-shot lawyer somewhere; &I`ll probably be making money writing cryptic poems about him. [I`ve found out I`m pretty good at lying when I write. But I heard they`re calling it fiction nowadays.]
So, if you happen to stumble across a poem that has some love-sick undertones, don`t you worry. I`m just reminiscing on what could have [never] been.
Most likely, it`s for Nathen.

P.S. Please don`t tell him I wrote this.

"&I promise you I`ll never ever complain."

l.f.

I`d like to show you some great-grand-kids, eventually.
But, oh! There`s just not enough time for that.

"What`s that noise up the stairs, babe?
Is that Christmas morning creaks?
&I said I know it well,
I know it well."
-j.v.

The Nap

Red cap, red cap, red cap,
Snug on your curled hair.

Blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes,
All close eventually, lashes flutter.

Red plaid, red plaid, red plaid,
Loose round your soft waist.

Folded hands, folded hands, folded hands,
‘Cross your murmuring chest.

Blue jeans, blue jeans, blue jeans.
Sun-faded and torn on a barbed wire fence.

White shoes, white shoes, white shoes,
Mildewed laces dribbled in rain-puddles.

Lazy hammock, lazy hammock, lazy hammock,
Inspired the taciturn dreamer to sleep.

lest we forget...

Dear G,
Welcome home! We`re so glad you made it. Now, please get some rest.
Breakfast will be waiting in the morning.
Sincerely,
A