Love Fast

"I had to squint to find you there,
my eyelashes broken ,
venetian blinds fluttering in the wind...
and then
there you were...
skinny legs and
yesterday's beard,
drenched in sloppy beerfoam spray,
the Ocean's last kiss ...
barefooted and climbing the dunes...
back to me,

the girl in the sandbox."

I stumbled on this tonight.
Remembered the very day I painted it.
The sudden claustophobia
of fat babies and tourists,
week-end surfers,
sun goddesses,
scrunching in closer to me,
running from the tide.

Remember
their make~shift fear
of the deep deep waters

rising...

tents and towels rolling,

sand buckets and sandwiches floating.

And tonight,
I know,
suddenly,
finally,
what it meant all along.

I'm not afraid of the murky water at all,
the knee splashing,
breath taking,
roll me under,
kiss the earth tide....

It's the low tide,
the quiet wave...
the waiting waters that scare me...

The Peace.

I'm afraid
that without
the struggle,
toes scrunched in the sand,
seaweed choking me,
undertow
stripping me
down to
skinned knees
and
breathless last moments,
Peace won't be all I dreamed of.

Then again,
I'm tired of dreaming...

I'm ready to live...
to Love...
And I don't have a lot of time to waste.

Eraser Lips and other secrets

I haven't been hiding. I haven't been busy. Or tired.

I've been learning.

I've been shedding skin. And sunning naked in my new colors.

And I haven't been alone.

I've buried a friend. Kissed 17 years of laughter and mischief, crooked smiles, and secrets good-bye...I've been waiting for her to answer me, to visit, to rock my world...waiting for her to cross over...waiting for the teensy weensy sign that she's OK. That it really rocks over there. I've been listening to a newfound silence. And suddenly, I realize, that not all my friends will be ghosts...they won't all trip me in the kitchen, haunt me in my sleep, follow me into the corner store. Sometimes, they'll just disappear.

And that's OK.

When I go, I'm gonna snatch a knot in her ass.

Because I miss her.

I've been camping out at The Men's Center. Visiting on Sundays. Sending care packages that get rifled through, and edited, and recorded. I've collected quarters. So that on Thanksgiving we could buy a Coke for a dollar twenty five from the vending machine. And share it. We can't touch, but we can share.

I've watched my 5lb 2oz baby boy grow. Into a man. The hard way.

And I've prayed.

I've had an affair. And called it off. And started it all over again. I've confused comfort with Love. And Love with memories. And yesterday with today. I've settled, and rocked the boat, and tumped it over upside down. I've tested it, and driven it, and painted it every color, including wrong. I've feigned happiness, and forgotten that what I was faking didn't make me happy.

And I've learned that to be accepted, sometimes, you have to accept. To welcome open armed the difference. That there will never be the symbiotic sameness that I thought was karmic. That perhaps, in our difference, we can build a bridge...And we can carry each other...

And that, in that very need...

We are the same...

I've fallen. And blown out my tattle~tale arm. My drawing arm. My tell~tell arm. I can't paint colors without an extra set of hands to twirl the paper. I can't buy beer unless someone I know and someone that loves me will tote it to the car and pop it in my fridge. I can't shift gears, zip my jeans, or open the pickle jar.

I'm lucky.

I've learned that:)