tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84648203097250804412024-03-13T17:41:48.185-04:00wants for nothingstories about loveUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8464820309725080441.post-87237255532511063092015-02-17T13:35:00.000-05:002015-02-18T18:53:13.280-05:00john the baptistI never thought I would miss you as much as I do now.<br />
The house is cleaner since you left.<br />
I finished cleaning the last dirty cup that you left behind just this afternoon.<br />
and I don't get elbowed in the night.<br />
I have the whole bed.<br />
I'm spending more time with my cats.<br />
and I'm doing what I want when I want.<br />
but my bed is colder.<br />
and maybe my heart is too.<br />
but that's a stupid thing to say.<br />
(2013)<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8464820309725080441.post-36661362809683218012011-03-06T14:09:00.006-05:002011-03-06T16:36:24.948-05:00The princess and the peaI almost ran over a frog on the way to Nate’s house.<br />I had just gotten off of a plane 4 hrs earlier.<br />My hometown.<br />My mom’s car.<br />Rain, wind and before I left the house my father warned me:<br />“Don’t park under a tree because it<span style=""> might fall on the car</span><br />and don’t lose your mother’s keys.”<br />It wasn't <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> windy<br />and I'm the responsible daughter.<br />To a fault.<br />It plagues me.<br />How soon he forgets who I am when I'm gone for a few months.<br />The roads in Lorain never felt so bumpy.<br />I forget that some roads are bad and that most roads are terrible in South Lorain.<br />It still rains.<br />I hadn’t seen a frog in what feels like ten years.<br />I don’t know why I looked at the road hard enough to see a frog crossing it.<br />I swerved.<br />I image a yellow road sign for Frog Crossing.<br />One big frog and little tadpoles trailing behind it.<br />If you squint it looks like sperm chasing an egg.<br />I had forgotten about frogs just like I had forgotten about worms.<br />Worms would litter the sidewalks on rainy walks to grade school.<br />I mistakenly thought worms liked water.<br />Why else would they take to the sidewalks when it rained?<br />Once, I put some in a plastic container I had already filled up with water.<br />I thought I might keep them for pets.<br />They were all dead within minutes of their swim.<br />The car ride was no longer enjoyable.<br />I remember that the freedom of driving is just an illusion until you hit something.<br />I should tell my friends that I just killed something.<br />I wasn’t sure.<br />No thump and I would have felt it in the pit of my stomach.<br />I think.<br />It wouldn't be an interesting story anyway.<br />Only to me.<br />I think to myself, I used to see them while cutting the grass once in a while.<br />When stray cats lived under the shed in the backyard.<br />We tried to bribe them with milk in a Styrofoam plate.<br />“If you feed them they’ll never go away.”<br />(2005)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8464820309725080441.post-68246653761511036162011-03-06T12:16:00.000-05:002011-03-06T12:43:29.585-05:00Merry Christmas, darlingMom was telling them about her cancer.<br />They cried.<br />Talked about their grandchildren.<br />Exchanged gifts.<br />Their poodle, Wylie, was lying next to me.<br />Blind.<br />Smelly.<br />Not at all like I remembered him to be.<br />Had I been absent for that long?<br />They looked the same though and the house did too.<br />I spent so much time here when I was a small child.<br />When my mom was working they took care of me.<br />Hours and hours of Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie.<br />Paddington Bear and The Hulk.<br />Grilled cheese sandwiches made with unfamiliar cheeses.<br />Glow in the dark finger puppets.<br />Turning away when Superman kissed Lois.<br />Swimming in their above ground pool in the summer.<br />Though I never learned to swim.<br />They told me he would sit under my hands forever if I kept petting him.<br />I stopped petting and he got up and started walking.<br />He runs into furniture.<br />His eyes are greyed over like his body.<br />The Christmas tree was unfamiliar to him now.<br />He ran into it, got scared and backed away.<br />I brought him back to me by putting my hand out and touching his fur again.<br />Um.<br />I don’t know.<br />Grandchildren.<br />Presents.<br />A light up Winnie the Pooh.<br />Cancer.<br />Getting better.<br />Don’t forget your present.<br />We love you.<br />The dog curled up and began licking his little doggy penis next to me.<br />I hate that sound.<br />No, REALLY.<br />I hope they don’t think I made him do it.<br />That fucking horrible licking sound.<br />The only peace he has left and I want to take it away.<br />I would have swatted him if I thought I wouldn’t be judged.<br />I pretend not to care while everyone else really doesn’t care.<br />He just keeps licking and licking.<br />At a time like this.<br />I feel like there is something wrong with me at this point.<br />I would have gladly stolen his penis licking peace of mind and not thought twice about it.<br />I don't remember when he stopped.<br />I don't remember leaving their house.<br />He's gone now and so is she.<br />(2005)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8464820309725080441.post-71052641332895428882011-03-06T00:19:00.000-05:002011-03-06T01:12:27.675-05:00Running towards and against time<style>@font-face { font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }h1 { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; page-break-after: avoid; font-size: 16pt; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-weight: normal; }p.MsoBodyText, li.MsoBodyText, div.MsoBodyText { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 20pt; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; }p.MsoBodyText2, li.MsoBodyText2, div.MsoBodyText2 { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 16pt; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">A treadmill faces a daybed in the basement.<span style=""> <br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style=""></span>Right above the treadmill is a large framed print of a painting.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">A mountain scene with trees and some deer drinking from a lake.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">To the left of this picture is an antique looking clock.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">It doesn’t work but I think that I remember a time when it did.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">The clock has real or silk flowers embedded in it the silicone or resin base.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Rounded square edges.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Yellow or yellowed.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">The hands of the clock are exposed.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">A sort of dull gold.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Thin metal.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">This clock is maybe five feet from a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Clock.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Maybe more like twenty.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Wood grain lines the walls between and around them.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">In between the clocks hangs a large wooden shelving rack.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Ping pong paddles and balls rest at the top.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Pool cues flank.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Four coasters sit on a lower shelf.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Each have a realistic but paper butterfly under the glass.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">A miniature boxing glove dangles nearby.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">A small wooden sword that reads Defiende tu Cultura is below the glove.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">A Puerto Rican flag is painted on this sword.</span></p> <span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Defend your culture.<br />(2006)<br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8464820309725080441.post-41611013481963045762011-03-05T22:32:00.000-05:002011-03-06T00:18:12.619-05:00Upright piano downstairs<style>@font-face { font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times; }h1 { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; page-break-after: avoid; font-size: 16pt; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-weight: normal; }p.MsoBodyText, li.MsoBodyText, div.MsoBodyText { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 20pt; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; }p.MsoBodyText2, li.MsoBodyText2, div.MsoBodyText2 { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 16pt; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }</style> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Piano clock.<span style=""> <br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style=""></span>Rock and Roll Hall of Fame clock.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Has a different instrument representing every number.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">It’s round, maybe glass.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Black and the silhouettes of the instruments are gold.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">It hangs above my upright piano in the basement of my father's house.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">The backdrop is wood paneling.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">My father’s short-lived collection of beer steins sit on the very top tier of the piano.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">One of them plays “Oh Mein Papa.”<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">An plastic yellowing bust of Beethoven sits on the tier to the right of the sheet music.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">A shiny ceramic grey angel is blowing a kiss with one hand and covers its smooth crotch with the other hand.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">A gold desk lamp.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">A silk rose sits in a clear plastic treble clef vase on the left.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">The one that replaced the simpler glass one.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">A candle from Germany slouches backward just below and to the right of the rose.<span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style=""></span>A dancing devil surrounded by barrels of wine etched into the wax.<span style=""> <br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="">Two thrown and one coiled ceramic piece, all crudely made, sit thisclose together.<br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">The dark copper color of the piano.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">The stool pushed in.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;">Four pieces of linoleum cut to fit under the legs.<span style=""><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="">(2006)<br /></span></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8464820309725080441.post-23526032894390421362010-07-25T12:57:00.000-04:002010-09-11T16:12:28.129-04:00Breaking out of a bagLarge orange jacket.<div>He is visibly warm.</div><div>Too warm.</div><div>He starts to fiddle as soon as he sits.</div><div>He takes off his yellow tinted sunglasses.</div><div>They are connected to a yellow rubber strap that I suppose he bought so that he can wear the yellow tinted sunglasses around his neck like a librarian when he tires of seeing yellow.</div><div>He opens his black backpack and gets a plastic bag out.</div><div>There seems to be mail in the plastic bag.</div><div>Maybe junk mail as he seems impatient and unaffected by the contents.</div><div>The bag gets rolled back up.</div><div>More discomfort.</div><div>He takes the yellow tinted sunglasses off of his neck.</div><div>He roots around in his backpack for another plastic bag unearthing another pair of yellow tinted sunglasses and puts them on. </div><div>I wonder how many plastic bags are in that backpack.</div><div>I imagine a life organized by plastic bags.</div><div>I think of the growing number of plastic bags under my sink.</div><div>Discomfort.</div><div>The first pair of yellow tinted sunglasses, strap and all, go sloppily into the plastic bag.</div><div>Another yellow strap gets pulled out of a different pocket in the backpack but is not used for the sunglasses.</div><div>More discomfort.</div><div>Only two stops until we have to get out and be in the cold weather to change trains.</div><div>No.</div><div>He takes off his large orange coat and wraps the second yellow strap around it.</div><div>Tieing it up like a sleeping bag.</div><div>At this point he seems very pleased with himself for the first time.</div><div>He is feeling the satisfaction of his efficiency.</div><div>He pops his collar and looks around.</div><div>No one else is excessively warm on the train.</div><div>His darting eyes don't meet anyone else's in agreement.</div><div>He would probably strip down to nothing if he could.</div><div>He may or may not have enough yellow straps to bind up the rest of his clothing and</div><div>I have never felt so still. </div><div>(2006)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8464820309725080441.post-64301783303848775432010-07-25T00:10:00.000-04:002010-07-25T13:23:42.498-04:00The first day of the rest of our livesThe man at the hospital.<div>Not a woman like I initially thought.</div><div>Asked me about my shoes that he thought were Keds.</div><div>My grey Chuck Taylors.</div><div>I told him they were comfortable and he said he could tell.</div><div>I liked him so much even before he spoke to me.</div><div>If I were old I would have liked him to be my husband.</div><div>Short.</div><div>Flannel wearing.</div><div>Lots of grey hair and a small, kind face.</div><div>He looked like the character in a page of my childhood jumbo coloring book about a safety dog. </div><div>He wore large white tennis shoes.</div><div>Much too large for how slight he was.</div><div>He was waiting to get chemo.</div><div>But no one seemed to realize he was there.</div><div>He was used to getting his treatment on a different floor.</div><div>Only his regular doctor wasn't in.</div><div>I wanted to make sure he was taken care of.</div><div>Much like I would if we were married.</div><div>He was the husband of my future self.</div><div>I would have put him in my pocket and taken him everywhere with me.</div><div>I worried about him all day.</div><div>My mother and I went to a different hospital room and played a hundred rounds of UNO.</div><div>When we returned and passed the waiting room the man was gone.</div><div>I should have spoken to him more.</div><div>I hope that he was taken care of that day and for the rest of his life.</div><div>I felt so close to him.</div><div>He was alone without me.</div><div>(2007)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8464820309725080441.post-17276753116371422702010-07-21T00:31:00.001-04:002011-03-06T13:01:11.124-05:00Hace frio at Grandma'sSeventh grade.<div>Rice and bean soup.</div><div>Vests with turtlenecks.</div><div>Neutrals, forest green and burgundy.</div><div>Grandma watching her novellas.</div><div>Me doing math homework in that impossibly small dining area.</div><div>Windows with thin curtains.</div><div>Yellow and white flowered.</div><div>"Come, come!"<br />Eat, eat.<br /></div><div>Waiting for daddy to pull up in the strawberry red truck.</div><div>The color I insisted on. </div><div>I never felt like I knew her.<br />I never felt like she knew me.<br /></div><div>Even as I sat in the next room.</div><div>"Bitch! Estupida! Aye dios mio!"</div><div>"Shit, man."</div><div>She is so short.</div><div>The house cluttered but immaculate.</div><div>I stare too long at the trinkets in the bathroom upstairs.</div><div>The room across the hall has a blood red bed in it.</div><div>A doll on top wears a blood red dress.</div><div>A small bed.</div><div>I imagine my father and my two uncles sharing it.</div><div>Why is there so much carpet in the bathroom?</div><div>So plush.</div><div>Soap shells and marbelized mirrors.</div><div>Teeth in a jar in the medicine cabinet.</div><div>I just prayed the toilet would never overflow.</div><div>I would hug it and then run before I ever saw the water rise.</div><div>(2006)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8464820309725080441.post-621883727195375602010-04-25T23:26:00.000-04:002010-07-25T13:24:59.080-04:00Something in the WayShe's different in the way she moves.<div>Slower.</div><div>More like I remember Great Aunt Kitty to move.</div><div>She plays a lot with what is left of her hair.</div><div>Twirling strands around her fingers.</div><div>Brittle and frizzy.</div><div>They fall down along her neckline.</div><div>She brushes them away and pulls her bandana closer to her brow.</div><div>Premature age spots sprinkle her hands.</div><div>I wonder if I'll ever chase her to the front door or twirl her hair into a giant knotted mess again.</div><div>She was always plump.</div><div>Sturdy.</div><div>Laughing.</div><div>Present.</div><div>Loving.</div><div>Now she cannot accept my kisses because they are full of sickness.</div><div>I turn away from her worried that I might blow her over with my breath.</div><div>I pet her stomach.</div><div>It was emptied.</div><div>I remind her that I was pulled from that very place.</div><div>She nods.</div><div>Sometimes when she touches my hair I dream of crawling back in.</div><div>I'm far past her nose night, my old marker of progress.</div><div>I was excited to surpass her.</div><div>Tower over her, though I'm not ready to let her lay in my lap.</div><div>I'm not ready.</div><div>My legs are not full enough.</div><div>Not pale enough, not stubby.</div><div>We'll lay next to each other instead and wait.</div><div>She's tired.</div><div>We should take a nap but I don't want to waste this time.</div><div>I know she's sleeping when she begins to coo like a newborn.</div><div>I've been told that I talk in my sleep.</div><div>(2006)</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8464820309725080441.post-87021358723302392010-03-14T22:57:00.000-04:002010-07-25T13:25:26.905-04:00There's always roomMy mom would sometimes make JELLO chocolate pudding for my sister and I as a treat. <div>Much like many things way back when in the 80's (I'm thinking about things like Chex Mix and Rice Krispie treats) we would do the little required to make these treats ourselves, or rather, my mother would make them for us. <div>My mother wore creamy yellow sweat pants. </div><div>She often wore sweat pants and a sweatshirt, not matching, and I don't seem to recall her ever taking part in an activity that purposefully made her sweat. </div><div>My mother would stir the very few ingredients with a wooden spoon into a stainless steel large bowl, just balancing the bowl on her crotch while lying on the couch. </div><div>Her eyes would be fixed on the television, a multi-tasker. </div><div>And this day she did just that, stirred the ingredients with the wooden spoon into the stainless steel large bowl, just balancing the bowl on her crotch while lying on the couch. </div><div>But on this day she lost the balance and dropped much of the stirred contents on the crotch of her creamy yellow sweatpants. </div><div>Weirdly enough I don't remember me or my sister's reaction to the news. </div><div>My mother scraped the bulk of the pudding off of her crotch and back into the bowl and served it to us. </div><div>My sister and I ate the pudding happily and declared it "PeePee Pudding". </div><div>(2010)</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0