Our Bravest Face

We saw the glade, we strolled the hollow, at five o’clock I brushed your hair

You sent shivers up my spine and talked of the milk white skin of my thigh

And we laughed about the Mister and seriousness of political love and polemic lust

And how difficult it is to listen to the worlds conventions and not lose hope

Companion loved, companion lost

You were rolled in oats and honey 

And I whinnied and pranced about

The connection the slimmest and strongest filament 

Umbilical nourishment and telepathic rapture

You fucking left me without a shore

We ate the berries, we bathed in lavender, at five o’clock you brushed my hair

You told me you were moving on, we cried pools of memories into your lap

And we laughed about the Mister and the seriousness or mortal thought and heavens trap 

And how difficult the night would be without the crickets

Companion loved, companion lost

I was awkward, lithe and funny

And you laughed and rolled about

The connection being severed by a razors edge

What will I do without my sunshine

I fucking left you without a moor

Paying for Peace

Crossways, my mind sat bone still, night still, freeze tag still, hiding from the rapist still

Yet it careened forward at breakneck speed, concerned about the beheadings

Twenty-seven to be exact, one of them an ice cream truck driver, imagine that

You broke into my zone and said a penny for your thoughts and punched me in the shoulder

I screamed in your face about how a penny wouldn’t even buy an ice cream sandwich wrapper

Much less the life of a decapitated Good Humor man, you scurried away distraught, confused

I had tried to buy peace last Saturday night with gold coin and whatever sex I could muster

But my dalliance stared into my eyes and laughed, whispering in my ear before leaving

“Peace is free for those who give away love and understanding for free.”

It was good thing, because I had been saving my love and understanding for someone deserving

Passau

     There are those girls with the handsome thighs, chittering and whispering, the sideways glance an indication that they know you are looking at them. The skin that the sun cannot blemish, soft like butter and cream.  They prance in an ebbing sun chained together with adolescent cinching, straining and breaking under the weight of the oncoming woman’s world hips. The call of  a life yet to come in a land of little resistance or want. But for now they swirl, dancing to a tune so wholesome it need be whistled sharply else the winds carry it prematurely to the land of accountability.

     The call of the river is a whisper most days and silent in the winter like death. But the screams of springtime get in a girls head and push boundaries.  She may get stuck in the eddy that takes her like a rocket to the bottom, trying to sift the mica from the silt and waking in the morning to the truth that it was not gold after all. When she resurfaces, lungs straining for one gulp of familiar air to set right, she is spit out on the tracks located at the intersection of lust and broken bones. Nostalgia floats in on the summer water and the yearning for deep rooted familiarity dances on the green surface of that Danube dream.

     There will not likely be another moment in which the girl has the time of day or the key to her identity until the butter and cream skin is patched with the scars and discolorations that show the depth of her experience. It is only then that wisdom and beauty build a bridge over that mighty current allowing one to cross with fingers in ears and a mind full of not what is right for the world, but first and foremost, what is right for her mind and soul. Some will say it can be the best part of a woman’s life, when the key is turned in that lock, but every girl cannot help to remember that sharply whistled tune and like riding a bicycle, the sideways glance from a woman is artistry that never fades.  

Pet Friendly Motels in Eastern Colorado

The sign read, "No Smoking Dogs!"
I looked at the desk clerk.
"Sooooo, if my dog smoked cigars we wouldn't be welcome, or I can't barbecue a dog, oooor, no lighting a dog on fire and watching it smolder?"
"The vending machine outside sells plastic cigarette smoking dogs....they stink"
I checked my pocket for quarters.