I've written two. They're both true, but one is sort of goofy and the other goes a little deeper, a little darker. Easy one first.
WHICH WAY TO NEW ROCHELLE?
jokes are fine.
Jokes are one thing but
those double beds aren't funny anymore
Honey,
open the door.
Forget the casserole and the radar range.
Forget Millie, she's strange anyway, and most of all
forget men, at least for this afternoon.
Forget it all and let me in.
I've loved ya since i was five.
Why would I lie?
I wanted to be you, but now I just want you,
and if I can't be with you then I guess I'll just die
and you'll have a lesbian,
a broken hearted pretty damn cool lesbian
dead in the drive.
Laura, baby,
let me in.
You'll never have to see Buddy and Sally again.
I can show you things the network censors won't allow.
I can show them to ya now,
but sweet foxy black and white woman of my dreams Laura,
you got to open that cardboard set door.
I'll light your Kent
and pay the rent,
but sweetheart, you got to put down the oven mitts
and come and let me in.
______
SAFE, SANE, CONSENSUAL
Honest.
(too dangerous
too demanding
too thrilling)
I gave it up
and
nobody who knows me
(unless they know me really well
or, unless they knew me
then)
would guess that kiss-this independent me,
little sugar-lipped my-way me
was ever into
such stuff.
But oh, when I least expect it,
(when I've almost forgotten
all the sweet and the rotten)
some woman says
(she doesn't say it sweet)
some woman says
(she doesn't say it cold)
some woman says
(she says it like she just naturally expects it)
"come here"
or
"hand me that"
and
oh the shiver that slides up my back.
Oh how the air gets too thin to breathe
and I know,
I know,
she's recognized me.
But I've given it up.
Honest.
______
My, my, my!
ReplyDeleteWoW. I miss being that interested and bold and giving and surprising. These poems are as sexy as old songs and going your own way and finding out You're gonna make it after all. Bless you.
ReplyDeleteOh, ROB!...You robbed me of my breath for a moment...
ReplyDeleteI don't know...I think Laura may be the equivalent of chocolate for you, missy. But the second--very good in the creepy kind of way, the key to the cellar door--when someone has that, there's no saying no, even when the dark scares you screamy. Both of these are pleasures for me to read, and I refuse to feel guilty.
ReplyDeleteHere in Minneapolis we've got a statue of Mary Tyler Moore, bronzed on the street throwing her hat in the air. I think she stands in front of a building that houses a bank or some shit....the ironic funny is the drunken frat boys that take their picture with her after bar close.
ReplyDeleteThese poems....these poems, I actually find to be decent companions to each other the domestic and the anti-matter of complacency.
Beautiful, thoughtful work as always.....viva la
Your second one...yup, I know just what you mean. Well done!!
ReplyDeleteWhoa! You sharpened your pencil for those two and did a great job on the prompt. Very impressive.
ReplyDeleteHope all is well in your world. Happy Thanksgiving! xo jj
ahem!
ReplyDeleteno reason to feel guilty about lusting after Laura in those capri pants! i'm sure Rob never got her off!
and as for your second poem ~
where would that pleasure be without the guilt? hmmmm???
♥
oh ROB!
ReplyDeleteWarm Aloha to YOU
from Honolulu
Comfort Spiral
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~ ~ ~ <°)333><( ~ ~ ~
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My my...love both of them!
ReplyDeleteHappy Holidays my lovely amiga
ReplyDeleteyou sure know how to touch and tease...
ReplyDeleteDon't see where the guilt comes in - and why keep great poems like that secret?! :)
ReplyDeleteOh, that last I'm in control, why don't you see if you can take charge of me shit...Ooooh! I like it when you do - that's the Gemini woman duality.
ReplyDeleteOwn it and work it, I say ;-) Clearly MTM did the same thing, if the clip is anything to go by.
Goofy ~ dark ... dark ~ goofy. Both shed light on the inner workings of Ms. Shay! In the 70s when I lived in Minneapolis,
ReplyDeleteanyone / everyone who came to visit had to get a glimpse of the house panned in the beginning of each episode. The Kenwood neighborhood has never been the same!!
.. a bit of trivia ...
""" The owner of this home, a university professor, grew tired of the traffic and attention, so he tried to end his relationship with the show. MTM was not anxious to change the story. To encourage MTM to move on, the professor put up "Impeach Nixon" signs at the home in 1973. As a result, Mary Richards moved to an apartment in 1975. """
Helen--why didn't she just move in with me!
ReplyDeleteagree, where's the guilt in this? seems like a flag-flying to me. love em both. also, you should see me in my jaunty raincoat, every time i wear it i feel like i'm channelling MTM. rawr!
ReplyDeleteI agree with the comments that argue your secret isn't secret. But it's good writing nevertheless.
ReplyDeleteOh, I get it, I think. Lusting after MTM? She's so wholesome, so pure; it seems so BAD. ha - but equally so Rob. He's so sweet and innocent. I can see why they had double beds :)
ReplyDeleteThe second is the one I loved... never quite confessed what, but admitting to an addiction that takes over your senses like that is really great fodder for writing!
Well DONE!
I just LOVE MTM!!! I used to watch that show all the time when I was growing up and wanted to be Mary (but without her bratty little kid!) And I hear you on that second poem! I hate someone ordering me around except when I love someone ordering me around!
ReplyDelete