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Showing posts from October, 2011

Sunsets in Sunset

The orange arms of the sunset embraced them from behind. They sat on the porch of a house on Prospect St., edge of the neighborhood, right before a brightly lit downtown. Their beers sat sweating on the round faux glass patio table where they both had their feet up. She wiggled her toes covering the Bank of America building with her big toe.   “Do you remember that bit from SNL?” “Which one?” he asked. “Remember, they did that thing with their fingers and they’d crush someone’s head. They’d say “I crush you!” She turned to him mashing her index and thumb finger together her voice deepening in an odd Slavic like accent giggling.                 “No, dork!” He laughed and shook his head.   He reached for his dewy Heineken. She watched his profile, the Adam at the center of his neck rolling up and down as he swallowed. It was almost the end of summer and much of their time had been spent on this porch. She reached for the rainbow colored glass pipe and lighter on the table,

A.M.

where do i begin and where does it all end the places faces that encompass my world they wait they see for the next thing that waits to defy me, surprise me,  ultimately crush me the love the heart that thing that follows we wait and we watch as we check mate ourselves into this auto feeling oblivion a place where we all dance, we talk, we walk  into an unknown something new

the s p a c e s we create

                                                                                                                              we create the space around us        that keeps                                               strangers                                                                                                                                                      from invading our space. the space around us that keeps    peoplethatcouldmatter                                                                   from  invading our space.                      there is the space that we create after thatcloseness has already happened and we                                                   b                             a                              c                              k                      away into our corner. becauseweareuncomfortablewithbeingclosewithsomeonethatknowshowtohurtus. there is the            

blurb

the soft palm of his hand against my face, long thin fingers reaching into the edge of my hair, as i look down. the shadow of my eyelashes hiding the expression that i don't want him to see. the expression that says that this wasn't me anymore. that perhaps the fire from earlier had simmered only to a few burning embers. a look that said i was ready to go...