rules

carnival

rent

$2 gas

i am still left with that empty
feeling that comes from standing
up too soon only to receive a quick
right hook which promptly drops
you face down on the canvas.
again.
a wicked evil way to begin
Monday.

but to end the day at paradise
with a nice glass of coste-du-rhone,
attempting to ignore the terrible calamari
at intermezzo and all the hours before
noon. whole heartedly trying to aerial
my way out of routine and depression.

leap frogging my way from blonde to
brunette and back to
blonde. singing for my dinner at road
side off ramps with a sign reading
‘no formal training’.
climbing the monkey bars between half
court presses, pressing baskets of
albarino over a stainless steel tub that turns
sunlight into lightning. diving into pieces of a
game named backgammon with a ritualistic
air even khomeini would envy.

a journey of numbers divided by
syllables, tallied by short
mandarian speaking gentlemen
proficient with the abacas.

with a finish edging toward finite
resources, I cling to hope like
two dollar gasoline.

laundry

first light

dark (k)night

they all are. except summers in Norway. then they are only days dimmed a bit.
I am in love, or at least I believe as much as I can that I love someone. it is a tender
subject for she is brilliantly ignorant or so the story in my mind goes.
perhaps she is desperately in love herself, afraid to voice a proper opinion,
or improper, which would be the more honest of the two.
but I will not intrude having suffered the quiet deception of ‘K’ and the
pregnant absence of ‘B’.

when she proclaims, i will embrass but not before.
well…knowing my patience with christmas presents…

but I have practiced patience since my earlier bouts of holiday insomnia,
and to hold my mersault-laced breath for a metaphorical month or even
a year  is not such a problematic stretch these days.