"Goddess, make this mirror your river... show me what you would have me see." Another woman walks in as I stand at the sink taking in my own face and flaws and shaking in my boots.
Silly girl. Silly woman. Go out that door and up to the reference desk. All this time, all the books checked out, and I still haven't talked to her--not really--yet.
I wonder what's in her mind? Austen? Ferlinghetti or Faust? I wonder what's in her bag? Lipstick? A leather cord with an ankh? Goddess, make my lips your instrument, let me say what you would have me say. I want to kiss her. I want to hear her whisper "yes..." I want her not to think me a fool. Goddess hear me, Goddess bless. She's with someone...at her desk. In her life? Is my boho baby someone's girl? Someone's wife? Gee I love her hair, her smart-girl glasses, her long fingers, her long skirt. I think we could be really beautiful or I could just look stupid and get hurt.
(Anyway, here goes nothing.)
Goddess, make my lips your instrument, let me say what you would have me say. I want to kiss her. I want to hear her whisper "yes..." I want her to see me, and understand. Goddess hear me, Goddess bless.
Now's the moment. Smile! Say something! "I...." She tilts her head, I think she knows... And then, so softly, "Yes?" ________ For my last Fireblossom Friday at Real Toads. "Love."
I love this song. Good grief, scratch a cynic find a romantic, I guess.
The news from my bed is that the wall is gone. At least I think it is. Things tend to pull the old switcheroo on me lately.
There's a guy standing there, by the jagged concrete and snaky rebar. His shirt is open and he's holding a Burger King wrapper to his bloody forehead. He looks a little dazed--meds? Or bombs. Not sure.
I get up. Yeah, I can get up. Nothing buzzes, no orderly or bitchy nurse appears. No doctor from Bloomfield Hills ladling out patronizing bullshit. If it's bombs, I hope they blew his golf club all to hell and gone.
I say to bloody forehead guy, "Hey." He blinks, hesitates, then does the guy nod. Maybe I lost my mojo in here. I tilt my head, look up at him with my soulful fucking brown eyes. "'Sup?" His knees buckle and he goes down, half over what's left of the bottom of the wall. Okay so. I get up, look around. What else is gone is the secure doors. And Madison, my roommate. She's hung up in the broken glass of the nurse's station. Poor Maddy. I notice she's wearing my Mickey Mouse sweat pants.
I fuck with my hair, step over the wall that isn't there, and Burger King guy. I'd help him if I could, but I'm just a loon, right? Before I can decide anything, this awful tremendously loud roar happens and then there's a concussion and dust blinding me. I'm on my ass without knowing how I got there. I hear a heavy vehicle going by me, close. I get up, my left leg won't work and I drop hard on my tailbone. So, I don't know a good affirmation for all of this. I don't know how this makes me feel, except that my leg and my ass hurt. The dust clears and I can see the buildings on fire and a freaked-out cat with its back arched and eyes big as next Tuesday, crouching and yowling as the rockets land. You and me, Puss. It takes a minute, but I scoop her up and off we go, me limping bad, Puss in full what-the-fuck mode, the Russians or the Koreans or the Martians raining shit down on our heads, and us doubtless sending it right straight back to their fucking pagodas or whatever. Holy shit, Puss. And they say I'm crazy. _______
*my title is a brazen rip-off, as per instructions HERE.
My dog has short stubby legs and a ginormous barrel chest. People laugh and say, "He's put together wrong!" He likes to dig, play tugga, and once, he killed a skunk.
Evenings, while I watch tv, he snoozes with a big doggy smile on his face. If I stop rubbing his belly, he opens an eye, lifts a paw and wants more. I like to watch him sleeping with his little legs and barrel chest, all the while marveling at his little body in its Perfection. ______ For Day 9 of the April thang.
Edwina Eileen Etiquette got all she could getiquette. She caught her neighbors' Galliformes and turned them into Maniformes. Exclaim! Exclaim! (went other dames) and loosed uncomplimentary names, but were her needs all metiquette? Edwina says, "You betiquette!" __________
Galliformes = chickens and other large ground-feeding birds.
It's like being a fag hag except with space ships. Oh yazzzz, I love a man with a literal heart on his sleeve. I love a woman with spots down her spine and two tongues. Who's a girl got to kiss around here to meet a Venusian?
Problem is, that cute double-brained hottie with the exoskeleton flinches when I reach for him. And my burbling hydro creature recoils when all I want to do is kiss her delicately foamed lips.
Ugly bag of mostly water, they say. Weird split biped without means of unassisted flight, they sneer. Hey, so uggos don't need love, too?
It's like being a fag hag except they don't appear as dancers in revivals of "Guys & Dolls" and get me tix and they don't "Oh honeyyyy" me when I'm down.
Still, I don't think they really mean their GTFO's. Do they? ____