coulda' been

it's raining and the baby's in the bath.
i ran all the way here this morning to tell her that it was coming. she didn't believe me. she was making a pie. i was damp with sweat and my dress was sticking a little to my thighs and back. i had on tennis shoes with no socks and my ankles had tiny flecks of brown and red dirt from the long, dry path between our houses. i looked down at my feet when i told her. i didn't understand her words when she asked, "why you bothering me with this nonsense? lord knows it hasn't rained in a month and it sure got no reason to start today." my heart was pounding in my ears and i either couldn't find her words in the noise or i couldn't comprehend her disbelief. i was so certain and i tried to catch my breath.

i washed up and helped her finish with the crust, then put it in the oven and we put the wash up on the line. she's out getting the last of it in right now. it's raining and i'm sitting with the baby in the bath.

ponder the beauty

you know we all have something.

some children's lungs seize up. it's difficult to watch your child not get enough air.

some children with all their beauty and hope and promise want to die. you know, they could do it at any moment you're not watching.

there are lots of things and we're lucky there are medicines and careful practices that can help us live in "normalcy."

i have a friend whose daughter is seven, but she will always be mentally two years old. she only recently got out of diapers.

shuffle

i can't hold on to the pieces. days slide out of my hands like slick new playing cards and i watch the ones i want... kings, jacks, nines... slip away with all the twos an threes. there are slippery little slices of my past on the floor, all around me. it's too late to pick them up and all i can do is try to not let any more fall through my fingers.

sounds in my head tell me to go, go and their faces circle around the table, anxious for me to deal.

cut (and paste)

paste life here

delete

the train man

blue sky

just before i left henry, his great aunt died. she left her sister (henry's grandmother) a large sum of money, except by then, her sister had died at the age of 97. henry's parents had died when he was in high school, so the money was to go to him once it was figured out how much the old aunt was worth, etc. i didn't stick around to find out how much of it i could get my hands on, or what he would have bought me if i just stayed with him. if i hadn't left maybe he would have bought me a motorcycle and those little seaside cottage vacations a lot sooner than the ones i gave myself. guess i missed out on taking advantage of him. oh, well.

duh

here's the entire fucking manual and 90% still can't figure it out

ten silver saxes/useless and pointless

still not riding
still not laughing
still not kissing
still not sleeping
still not finishing
still not believing
still not fingering
still not having
still not tasting
still not crying

been all over you

i hadn't seen that before. thank you, i really enjoyed it.

i remember when that song came out and it was me. every word was me. i guess probably a lot of people felt that way.

Touch me
Take me to that other place
Teach me
I know I'm not a hopeless case

it's not me anymore, but i'll watch that man fuck a microphone any day.

thanks again.

sparklers

i am easily amused. i am not easily impressed. he pressed a coin into the palm of my hand and i still have it.

i wonder where your keys went. they are somewhere. they exist in being and i wonder where that is.

today is a holiday. i remember this day one year ago. every day, these days, i remember the day one year ago. i really hope that next year i'm not saying, "i remember this day two years ago." i really hope not.

some people like pain. some people like to watch others in their pain. they share just enough to keep them under.

another lightning storm is building. like horses, the clouds come in from all directions. i hope we can still see the fireworks.