respect your elders.

my weekend has been full of white pomegranate hot tea. homemade chili and chicken sausage pasta. warm pajama pants and slippers. a lovely dinner of homemade steak and guinness pie followed by pumpkin pie with the boy and our little family. early to bed. late to rise. ABC Family movies. Law and Order: SVU marathons. couch lounging. pure water. no booze. wintry mix coffee. finding a new apartment. james taylor on vinyl. this is me, becoming an 80 year old woman.

you're like fall in my hair.
when the air smells of cinnamon
and the leaves crackle like dry skin.
i love the way your season's change is so slight.
i want your fourth of july in my mouth,
and christmas placed protectively on my back.
you're like the summer mist in the morning.
drifting off the waves
and slowly rolling over me.
i love the way you drift out with the horizon.
i want your spring in my step.
and your new years kiss every day.

this is my winter song to you.

I have yet to figure out how to get my heart to stop beating so loud.
I am afraid every one around will turn to look at me, and know. they'll know.
I've seen you from the corner of my eye. standing half in the dusk.
shoulders sulking. chin down. hands stuffed into too tight already pockets.
then i hear it.
clunk. clunkclunkclunk. clunk.
the beat so loud that i feel it over the reverb of guitars and the vibrations of drums.
I feel the eyes burning a hole into the back of my head.
I know they know. they know that I know that they know. and we all know.
but my heart keeps beating. and you keep sulking and we keep pretending we're ok.
but my wintered love is still alive. my beat gives it away with every step.
and i know that you know.

love has been waiting, patient and kind.

I do not have a crush. I do not have a crush. I do not have a crush. I do not have a crush.

a crush is the curse of a silly girl. ever longing. ever hoping. ever crying.

I do not. have a crush.

i am not weighed down by the mediocre thoughts and maladies of infatuation.

a crush is a curse to a silly girl.

i do not have a crush.

i remember every word, i cling to every thought given. i do not giggle and bat my eyes.

i stand confident in all my womanlike ways.

i. do. not. have. a. crush.

i have a hope. a glimmer. a light in the distance, like a house calling you home.

a love is like medicine to a wounded soul.

i do not have a crush. i do not have a crush. i do not have a crush.

starlight, starbright.

when the tears you cry, are all you can believe.

i find when we should have the most faith in the greater good, when we have hope, when things just NEED to go right. thats when everything starts to crumble around your ankles.

my chin quivers and my hands shake. i can’t concentrate on the task before me because my mind is filled with worry and want.

i’ve shirked responsibility in my adult age. run from anything that would tie me down. just so i wouldn’t end up like her. anyone but her.

just have a little faith in me.

i keep waiting to find out why this hand was dealt to me. i’ve been good and i’ve been right. but it all feels so wrong.

i want to run. as fast as my broken legs will carry me. but i am stuck in the mud and muck of life. floundering here. waiting, just waiting.

The Plan:

well, we can either break up or fall in love, she said.

after all, it is spring.

when these things happen.

let’s fall in love, again. he said.

again means it happened once already.

of course it did.

everyone falls in love in the spring.

love in the winter, fall in love in the summer.

that’s the plan, she said.

it’s a great plan. he said.

you touch me. i hear the sound of mandolins.

wild as the air.
whipping through the moonlight and the tiny hairs on the back of your neck.
caressing knuckles. kissing bumpers.
wild as a whip on a sunny day.
slashing tires and touching backs.
breathing wet lips and squelching mad hatters.
gold lamee ribbons tickle the trees
till they giggle into a gaggle of geese.
cling to me.