Oh Gawd, Not Another One!

I've been a poet for a while now. I've also, incredibly, had a girlfriend or two. Hey, even a blind mail lady finds the door slot once in a while. So, predictably, I have written them poems. I've noticed that there is an identifiable and consistent pattern to their reactions, over time. So, let me throw on my white lab coat and ask Test Question #1. See if you can guess which of the following statements is more likely to be true:

Statement Number One: "Meet my significant other of thirty years, my darling and one and only (insert name), who is also a poet."

or

Statement Number Two: "Meet (insert name), the poet (or musician, or artist, or actress) I met last week."

If you chose Statement #1, that's wonderful. Have a happy life in your candy-coated fairyland. If you chose Statement Number Two, your feet are firmly planted in reality. Oh cheer up. I've written a list for you. Lane 1, no waiting. Here it is:

Fireblossom's Progression of Reactions From Women Receiving Doggerel Poetry Written By Me, Over Time

Poem #1) Omg!!! WOW! You wrote this for me? Omg. You are too sweet for words. I'm honored, truly. No one has ever written anything for me before! I'm going to keep this forever. MMmmmmmwahhhhhhhh!

Poem #3) My god you are brilliant. This is amazing. Thank you! I love you, Fireblossom!

Poem #6) Another one? For me? Omg. What are you doing? As always, I love it. Thank you. Really.

Poem #10) Wow. Thanks.

Poem #13) I'll read it when I get a chance. I promise. I love them. Gotta run!

Poem 15) Are you sure you gave it to me? I don't remember, I must be going crazy. I'll look for it. If you gave it to me, I'm sure it's here somewhere. 

Poem 16) *sigh* You really write a lot of poems.

Poem 17) I showed it to my friend Sue, and she thought it was really good. We're, um, just friends.

Poem 18) Hi, this is Jane. I can't come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the beep. Bye!

Poem 20) Undeliverable as addressed. Addressee unknown.

5 years later, at a social gathering) Omg. You! Are you still writing that stuff, poems, or whatever? I think you gave me a few of them. Wow, so, (voice going flat) are you still just...writing poems, or...  (voice enthusiastic again) Oh hey! Come over here. I want you to meet my husband! He's an engineer!

__________

November Love Song

I had a blue-eyed love--
In the heart of winter, we'd meet;
Crystal snow spread across our bed,
And river ice beneath.
I'm reminded by the cold and leaden sky--
My blue-eyed love and I.

I had a green-eyed love--
In the heart of summer we'd meet;
Lilies spread across our bed,
And drowning depths beneath.
I'm reminded by unforgiving July--
My green-eyed love and I.

I had a black-eyed love--
In the heart of autumn, we'd meet;
Windblown leaves spread across our bed,
And only the earth beneath.
Cruel the desire that lives nor dies--
My black-eyed love and I.
___________

for One Shot Wednesday.
___________

Danny's, Home For Wayward Girls

More Savanna, because Sara asked for it. More Danny's because everybody asked for it. :-)

Savanna walks into Danny's Coffee Shop.

She is wearing a long skirt and boots.

She is thin.



"What is she, about twelve?" says Chloe to Denise the waitress. "Maybe you better card her."

"It's a coffee shop, you dipshit," chirps Denise.

God, the other waitress, hurries by.

"Behold! It is Yahweh, the great I Am!" Chloe announces, smirking. Denise chuckles.

"Oh cut it out you guys," says God, tilting her chin up and giving them both her best bite-me smile.

Denise goes over to Savanna.



"Hi hun. Been here before?"

"Sure, lots of times." She's never been within ten miles of the place.

She orders a small mocha. It's all she has the money for.



The Queen Of The Vampires, sitting at a nearby booth, shape-shifts into a black panther and gracefully hops down to go investigate the newbie,

But the Dark-Haired Chick catches her tail in her hand and brings her up short.

The QOTV whirls around, all gleaming white fangs and slashing claws,

But the Dark-Haired Chick just goes, "Pffft!" and goes back to her coffee.

Everybody knows,

The DHC can do anything she wants to the QOTV and the QOTV will let her.



For a second, Savanna's eyes are as big as gypsy moons before she recovers herself and remembers to act cool.

"That your cat?" she asks the Dark-Haired Chick.

The QOTV is sulkily shredding the booth and making a mess of it.

"Never saw her before," answers the DHC, dryly.



God comes over and talks to Savanna for a minute and then comes back with two sandwiches and a jumbo latte.

"I can pay," says Savanna.

"I know, sugar, but first time customers get this. It's a promotion." God is lying her head off. They never do this.



As God walks back by her, Chloe says, "Be careful, Mother Teresa. That one's got a knife in her boot."

"I know. I know everything."

"I roe ebryting," mocks Chloe, unhappily. "Nobody likes a know-it-all!"

"Nobody doesn't like me," counters God, brightly.



"That's Sara Lee," calls the Succubus from her corner table where she is reading the daily advice column through dark glasses.

"What?" they all ask.

The Succubus lowers her shades. "Sara Lee. It's 'nobody doesn't like Sara Lee.' Duh."



The QOTV is leaving deep grooves in the table with her claws. This seems to please her.

Savanna has one sandwich left, but not for long.

Danny walks in.

"Hi Danny!" they all sing.

"Hi girls," he growls contentedly.

Every day is a good day at Danny's Coffee Shop in Norman.

Today is no exception.

____________

Savanna

I'm Savanna.
I live right up these steps.
This is a sycamore.
That's a mulberry.
Sycamores are too big, messy, not really pretty.
I carved my name into the wood--
S-A-V-A-N-N-A,
With a good sharp knife.

I'm Savanna.
I like night, and summer, best.
I have a cat, and I can tell
You're not from anyplace around here.
Would you like to kiss me?
I didn't mean right now.
I have given up painting my nails,
Or trying to be sweet.
I spell my name Savanna--
No "h".
That's right.

I'm Savanna.
Does anybody know you're here?
I like long skirts, and boots, all seasons.
Listen,
When a girl tells you she loves you,
It can be tricky.
This tree is a locust.
I don't live up these stairs.
Summer is too long and hot,
And I don't intend to let you kiss me.
My name isn't Savanna,
But...
I told the truth about the knife.
_______

Tightrope

For every hour spent performing wickedness,

I need an hour to think about what I've done

And savor it.



Little birds can fill a long wire,

But eventually, that wire runs on, alone.



This solitary creature loves nothing as she loves your name.

Your silence.

Your distance.

You are the thing that will not open, but might,

And so my nails, and my mood, are often jagged.



For every hour spent performing wickedness,

Take a minute for the one who loves the wicked-doer

And savor her.



Little attentions can buy long devotion,

But eventually, that devotion needs more.



Stay away just one day too long,

Judge it wrong,

And you'll find out how much I love my solitude--

Not more than you, my dear,

But more than waiting.
___________

Manifestation

Like a ghost,
I had lost touch with my own body.

At night, I
Turned off the lights and
Simply disappeared.

Enter Madeleine,
The sensitive,
Fingertips playing Ouija across my skin,
Her lips such a sweet mnemonic.

In the morning,
The spirit (and such)
Is satisfied;
Haunting is now the thing forgotten--
I walk the earth once again,
A flesh and blood woman.
_________

Pink Coral

I had worn a white tank

But was not an angel

(not hardly)

Or a cloud

(though I can drift far from terra firma).



I was simply in a hurry

And it was handy.



My windows are small

And recessed.

They let in just enough street and moon light

To make out general shapes--

My bed.

My chair.

My flower vases.



You lay with your head against my chest, your bare back to the room, and I said,

"This is the desk where I write my poems.

These are my books,

And this is where I sit dreaming, afternoons, when I am free."



You heard none of this because you had fallen asleep.

You left a pink coral lipstick stain on my shirt,

In the spot you had both blemished and blessed,

Just there,

A little above my heart.

__________