Thursday, September 25, 2008

The witching hour

I keep waking up at 2am
usually 2:14 on the dot, once at 2:11 and once at 2:17.
Last night was 2:17 and then i woke up again at 4:27.
and when i wake up, i wake up
not like when i have to wake up and it takes me about seven minutes before i can see
and 10 minutes before i can comprehend the makings of a day
but these nights are stealing parts of the better side of me
and the only thing positive i can take from it, is the possibility that 2, 11, 17, 4, and 27 are what should pick on my next lotto ticket.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

the ingredients of a good birthday:

good food and good drink
good company and good laughs
good music and good gifts
a good best friend and a damn good boyfriend

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

the boxer

"i'm tired of trying to be an adult," she says. "i'm no good at it."
on the phone he will tell her that she has been an adult since she was ten.
"yeah...but i think it got a lot harder when i hit 25."
he tells her to try to let her life settle
that if her life isn't chaotic she goes looking for it
she hates these words, but knows there is some truth in it
she will look on a website that has a checklist
at the end it informs her that if she has checked yes to any of the questions, this website might help
she has checked yes to all but one or two
is this the moment of letting go?
or will she still see it as defeat?
fighting the fight that no one is around for
not even lights or an av system
no fans in the crowd
no ticket sellers at the door
no one in the ring besides herself
perhaps, it is time to put the gloves down.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

melancholy baby

"i don't understand the language. i just don't get it."
"yeah...well thi sis something that you're going to have to understand. you gotta go back in and read it-"
"i have been reading it and i don't understand it. thats what i'm saying."
he contemplates this admission and says that he will help her
"we gotta move on this-"
"i know, dad. i know. i'm very worried about it."
it is no longer an admission but more of a concealed question: can you please not make this any worse than it already is?"
"well you don't have to be worried about it."
she laughs. the absurdity of it all.
their dialogues like carousels
their rhythms like a scratched record going back and forth on an old turntable
always hopeful that they have finally reached the chorus and then the song repeats itself from the beginning.
"sweetie, this is something we can win. so don't worry about it. i'll read it and call you tonight."
they tell each other they love each other and hang up the phone.
she sits for a second letting the echo of the last few words sink in.
the painful absence of connection fills the room
the words pass, drowned out by the cicadas and crikets and what must be two mating beetles
her body gets warm as the tears move like a tidal wave through her body but the floodgates go up and the computer goes on and something about it feels old fashioned
he comes in the room and asks how it went
he hugs her but she tells him don't make me cry
she is tired of the dramatics.
and for tonight she is tired of herself and her melancholy woes.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

see you in september

whirlwind: one word to describe this summer
running: one achievement of this summer
tan: one benefit of this summer
sick three times: consequence of never stopping this summer
Aruba: something to hate me for...this summer
freedom: three-day weekends
tears: growing up
lots and lots of smiles: best summer ever.