Picking The Lock On Love



Don't talk to me about the glass being half full--

There is no glass.

Just me,

With my hair on fire as usual,

And even if there were a glass,

It would only be filled with steam

--crying on the inside--

Weak.


I was never meant for being a good girl.

If I were,

Would Goddess have jammed every pocket full with a thief's inventory?

But if I were meant only for petty crime and skulking,

Could I turn the basin blue

Every time I wash my face?

Would Impressionist ladies bloom on my skin every time I undress?

Would I find their dear and fanciful hats

On the Adirondack chair

As I slip out the back sliding door

Ahead of somebody's husband?


One

Is the number of stars

Who know me by name.

One

Is how many times you die

If you've got any guts.

One

Is how many avenues of escape there are,

Always.

But two

Fills my dreams like surf on stones.


And you,

Smoky-haired tease with the California soul,

You will never let them search you, will you?

A thousand--

Is how many times you told me there was taint in the resin.

Zero

Is the chance

You would ever stay with a charming thief,

Because

Your heart loves charming thieves.


Don't talk to me about the glass being half empty--

There is no glass.

Just me,

Blind between Dolphin Queen and fish skelly--

Crazy to keep coming back--

With my hair on fire as usual,

The smoke birthing ten thousand solitary nights

And one persistent perfect tireless

Little...black...cat.

_______

Comments

Mama Zen said…
This is some amazing writing.
omg.woman you have got it going on.
fabulous.
Jeannie said…
I have no clue what that was about so it must be fabulous. Put that to music.
TALON said…
"But if I were meant only for petty crime and skulking,
Could I turn the basin blue
Every time I wash my face?" - now THAT is fabulous poetic imagery.

Unrequited love sucks.
Anonymous said…
I like it, but I think I need to reread a few times.
mac said…
The numbers don't quite add up, do they?

But, I still try this complicated math, knowing the equation can never be solved.
Hair on fire, pen on fire.
Anonymous said…
You outdid yourself, which I didn't think was possible...
I'll be back to comment again, I must read you more now.

Secretia
Riot Kitty said…
I think Elizabeth said it best.
Unknown said…
Wow, this is soul fired, spirit infused writing and somehow I really got this piece too, I am so glad you have your tireless black cat! MANY BIG HUGS!!!
g
Joanna Jenkins said…
You knocked me out.... "charming thieves".

AWESOME!

xo
Ileana said…
Passion keeps your hair on fire and keeps you coming back. That damn passion!
Nancy said…
Passion - can't live with it and can't live without it - or something like that.

I loved your finch story! Old George had it going on!
Anonymous said…
And we dream and we scheme and try another way in, and we wait...
Until the dream begins again.

Secretia
the walking man said…
Oh hell yes! The challenge of being a lock pick sneak thief. A thief with a heart and not ready to give up her ways because the black cat hasn't needed sleep yet just

a

bit

of

knowing

it

is

cared

for.

My kind of thief.
Dul├že ♥ said…
This is perhaps my fve of faves, though tha's so difficult to state here.
Oh those burglars, oh those black cats...
Life is complicated but sometimes the math is simple. For example, it is futile to keep trying to divide by zero. ((((hugs)))
Kelly said…
love it when your gritty... meow mix indeed. There's only one baby~shay x

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