my stallions

here are bucky and prince. i know they are gelded, but they are still stallions to me. and i will miss them with my whole being if i never see them again.

atomic wedgies

so, i'm flying down this waterslide called the grand prix. and it's got five lanes, i'm basically racing the kid i'm riding with, and she's upset because the first time we get on it, i launch myself down the thing and am gone before she can even get started. she tells me she yelled,

hey, no fair!

as i go flying away down the slide (which was just long enough to make you start wondering if you were ever going to hit water, and when you did, what would happen, if you would drown, or suffer bodily injury, or just get the wedgie of a lifetime). how bathing suits can withstand that kind of friction and splashage, i don't know. i felt around before i came out of the water just to be sure everything was still underwraps. or what was under wraps was still under wraps. and it was. miracles happen kids, every day at waterparks.

so the second time we line up, she takes the middle lane, because i wanted it the first time and there was some magic to it. and i let her launch herself down the slide first, but her but hits the launch pad and she skids to a stop right at the pricipice of the slide. i laughed, and said,

come on.

and finally she sets off on her little pace, the pace of a delicate 100+ pound little girl, and then i go. launch myself off and fly down that slide with my arms up over my head so my whole body is prostrate and gaining speed with no resistance. and i blew past her in second, and had enough time to emerge, check for suitage (suitable suitage i should say), and realize that last time down felt like a water enema, i got water shot into places only the brave dare go. and i had to laugh.

i need to stop for a bit,

i told her.

she went down another ride i didn't dare go down.

something we decided gave an atomic wedgie. i could live without that.

so i wandered back to my friend who had parked herself on the sunchairs and was ready to pass out. i was glad i got there before she passed out. and i kept her awake long enough to talk some more about maybe taking a cruise together.

we really are a good match, our girls are well matched. there was a third girl in tow today, and anyone who knows anything about girlz knows threes are no good. but the third girl was more adventurous, and i'm more foolish than my friend, and so we braved a few of the rides, and while i was standing atop those high towers, i was wondering what in the world i was doing up there, about to jump into a pitch black flume riding an inflatable raft.

the black vortex, it was called, and it was fun. but kind of scary. it was pitch black in there and the mind gets away from you if you're not careful. lots of twists and turns and one can only imagine the carnage if that thing tipped over.

all in all, a wonderful, restful day.

this after i sat down on the floor at work last night and cried. i was just so angry and frustrated. i don't hide emotions, but i only cried a few tears. i was deeply troubled last night upon returning home. and then clive owen was in my dreams, humenah humenah. he passed me a secret military something or other and i had to get it to safety. clive gave his life to protect the something. so who was i to fail him.

anyway, he died, and i woke to a wonderful, restful, peaceful day of sun and friendship.

i'm grateful to be alive.

truly.

and the hawks, were everywhere. that was best of all.

drama is death

tonight was the worst night ever at my job.
we lost power partway into my shift, and i had to get the customers out of the store and figure out how to deal with it.

and the long and short of it is, i'm the supervisor, so i get the blame for what goes wrong. and i can't figure out how to get a particular kid to actually work.

i just don't know.

i am not pollyanna, you know this, so, when my pollyanna trainer says to me,

drama is death

(after i've just said,

i want to shoot myself,

i get the picture).

doesn't take a genius to figure out her indirect style of communication.

say what you want to say, only not directly to the person you're saying it to. make it all vague and weird. so i spend hours wracking my brain trying to figure it out.

but it's not her fault. none of it is her fault. she's incredibly kind. hell, she's pollyanna, which makes me feel even more like a black sheep.

i don't know. so i told my boss, via post it note, not to schedule me more than four days a week. i figure if he wants to get forty hours out of me, it will have to be in four days (and i wouldn't put it past him).

but i'm tired. and alone.

always f*>@in alone. and i'm sick of it.

will i change my life?

perhaps.

vacation couldn't have been planned for a better time. i think i've all ready left mentally, i've felt in neutral mentally at work since monday, after i shipped a large box of luggage to my destination in advance (i'd rather not fuss with it on a plane).

and then the all nighter friday. i'm going to need a drink when i arrive. maybe even en route. i can get sauced, i don't have to drive.

i don't know. these are all hollow solutions.

i don't know what to do at the moment. maybe just go to sleep and see what happens tomorrow.

we'll be going to laze about in the sun all day at a waterpark. and i am looking forward to it.

sweet spots and extra shots

i found the sweet spot on bitty today. she has a few, actually. but that little chestnut pony has really won my heart. and when i can scratch her in just the right place, it makes me smile. she smiled many, many times today, and there is something about that, i don't know. makes me feel like my whole life is not wasted on work and meaningless chasing after things. (which sometimes i wonder about).

even velvet, the old black mare, who recently had a snip of her lip bitten off (saturday my girl noticed it. she notices everything), let me scratch her sweet spots. and she doesn't do more than tolerate me, but today, i think we made huge strides. we'll see.

it will be weird not seeing the horses for two weeks, but we said our goodbyes and left them for our adventures. fresh off the red eye, my girl will start a week of riding camp (when we return). and i hope that goes well. we'll see.

i was troubled when we left bucky and prince because we can see bucky's ribs and his hip bones are starting to become pronounced. what can we do? not much. not much. i wished them well and hope i get to see them again, someday.

i did a lousy job closing sunday night, completely misunderstood my boss, so i missed the mark pretty significantly. i was glad i was able to go in and set a few things right. it bothers me to leave unnecessary work for others. and i had one girl with me who is the bomb, but it was her last shift, so she was useless. plus, she'd just had her hair chemically straightened and couldn't do much. ah well.

so the dude with us had to actually work. and i wouldn't let him play bouncer and kick the mass of kids out early (because i figure, they're not being naughty. if they were being pests, i'd have kicked them out, but they were well behaved, i thought. just being kids. no harm there).

but he was lagging ass, i'll tell you. and he locked himself outside after we closed, when i let him in, he didn't lock the door behind him. good thing i checked before we left for the night.

hello. is anyone home? i wonder sometimes.

but i've finally met everyone. and now i hope to get some rhythm back. because while i'm making headway in some areas, i'm botching up other areas. and i don't want to do a poor job.

but i've got to run. much coffee madness awaits me, and i've got to get there.

peace. out.

schedules

well, it's begun, the rush to february. strange to say it that way, but that's how it is. i won't come up again for air until then. so be it.

i look forward to the change of seasons. the approaching cold. the snow. i love the snow. it makes me feel like regardless of what has come and gone (mostly what has gone), life prevails.

i am believing that. as i lean into my load and strain against the pull of it trying to drag me back down. i will not go down. i'm stronger and stronger each day.

it's a curious thing to sit at the head of a week and know, every moment is spoken for in some way or another. and i have a lot to do in the meantime.

i told my sister already,

when i get off the plane we are going directly to in-and-out,

do not pass go, do not collect $200. i don't care what kind of diet you're on. i'm having a double double with grilled onions. there ain't nothing like it under the sun.

perhaps it's the memories of high school, when my friend worked there, the giant safety pin holding her waist apron on. or how we'd ditch school just for that burger. i met some guy out here with a shirt on, and he said they did the same thing.

that's a damn good burger if you are willing to ditch school for it.

anyway, that is the thought that keeps me going. my sister and i, sitting together in the parking lot (we can speak freely if we're in our little enclosure). and something about in-and-out, demands consumption before even leaving the parking lot. trust me on this.

but i think we're going directly to the beach after the boigy, and i look forward to seeing the sun set again. to sinking my toes into the sand and feeling the waters lapping at my ankles. i don't like living in the midwest, i'm glad i'm not there anymore. i need to be by the ocean, at least within driving distance of it.

peace out.

choke on my tears

no, i won't say what i was going to say. only this. i'm looking forward to this week. lots of delights. and it culminates in my seeing my sister, which is much needed after a year apart. the babies are a year old now. i wonder if they'll remember me.

i wonder so many things.

it's not the straight down rain that troubles me so, it's the slanty rain. that comes in the windows. i like to sleep with them open, so the slanty rain makes me rise and shut them. the straight up and down rain, not so much. i leave them open.

i like the sounds rain makes. the sounds of the rumbling train, when it sneaks into town late at night, like a teenager who missed curfew.

i like the birds waking me in the morning, and the stars that glimmer in my eyes at night. but it's been too cloudy the past week or so to see them. and i forget the sight of stars, what a clear sky looks like.

but sometimes, the moon can hardly hide herself from me, and the crow calls to me from high in the pine tree. and i feel a part of something. nothing grand, but nothing tiny either. just my life.

the weirdness abounds and i go with it. trying to remember where i'm headed, not lose my way for lack of signs. trust my instincts to get me there. and that the one hacking his way through the brush on the other side of the river does not lose heart, and that we'll glimpse each other soon.

poets, poets everywhere

i swear, it's such a cliche to be a poet out here. everyone is a poet. my boss is a poet. we're going to try to start up a poetry gig at my work, and also have music and open mics. it should be really nice.

the crew i'm working with are all hard working, not the i don't care crew of the previous joint. and i'm glad.

it's so much easier to accomplish everything that need be accomplished when there is a willing crew.

my boss keeps telling me,

have fun.

i say,

yes, right now i'm just trying to remember everything.

(it's not so fun when all of it is radically different than what i'm used to). but it will get better, and i'll be a wild and crazy gal in no time.

met another musician tonight. love them. the long hair gives them away every stinkin' time.

the other night i was talking to this one guy and he said,

yeah, you're the writer.

and i don't remember what we were talking about, i think killing people. (i have strange conversations, what can i say?).

and if i remember correctly, he has long hair and a fabulous tan (which is what started me talking to him). and we were discussing how to kill people because i know a bunch of novelists and they may have occassion to off someone (literarily, not literally, come on, please!)

i can't kill an ailing chipmunk, do you think i could nix a real person?

not likely.


but i guess when you have a discussion about how to off someone, it's kind of memorable. :D

our customers are very kind. we do the best we can. and sometimes, we have fun.

i'm really enjoying the place, and my boss scheduled me two days off after i get back from vacation, and i'm grateful. he says,

i always like to let people recover from their time away.

(he's the bomb, truly).

and monday night, i gave up my time off (i told him i had plans i would miss for this meeting we had to have), and he let me give away some of the hours he'd scheduled me for since we're not having the meeting as he thought we were that night.

so i make it to my poetry gig, and i get to sit around and talk poetry with poets i adore. this makes me happy, so very happy.

and i don't get happy about much.

i was really going to be frustrated if he had said no. but he didn't.

i think i'm gonna like it here. (five points if you know what musical that line is from).


and the horses today, bucky and prince, velvet and bandit, barnaby and bitty, were all delightful. we had only to bring them in and feed them, so we walked them slowly through the pasture (i didn't get to bring bucky in--but we did get to visit him). and they nibbled their way to the barn.

such a wonderful experience. dawdling with my girl and horses.

bandit let me pick his hooves. he's such a baby, he doesn't like grooming. but he's getting used to me, i think, because he let me do this for him.

my girl did the other three horses.

and everyone was happy when we left, mostly us i think.

this work is the kind of work that feels more like privilege than work. we're grateful for the trust nicole gives us to have such free reign with her horses. and then, we sneak over to see bucky and prince in the inbetween times.

i'm just grateful. not much in life has changed, but i'm grateful.

today at my friend's house, when i was dropping off my girl, her husband stolled up and his wife said,

she doesn't want to move back to texas.

and he said,

neither does she.

and i said,

my husband does.

and his wife said,

we should talk.

and so i looked him in the eye and said,

i'm not clean.

(because he's a neatfreak), and he looked stunned.

it was hilarious. this rapidfire succession took place so quickly, i don't think he even realized what was happening.

it's good to meet people we get along with. my hubby will meet my friend's hubby when he retrieves our girl from her time away.

how silent the house is without her here.

but it's good for her, she's found a friend.

she went off with her friend as soon as we arrived, usually she lingers by the door and says goodbye while i leave. but not this time. she was too busy being with her little friend to even realize i was leaving.

and that too, makes me happy.

i want my people to be happy more than anything else. and when they are happy, that does my soul good.

i'm tired, it's late. i must to bed.

peace. out.

pillow talk

sometimes i imagine these words we'd share. and then i have to turn my head away because it breaks something open in me that must stay closed. it cannot gush and run like a sore anymore. it has to stop being picked at and forced to ooze. i have to let it heal. have to.

but i'm tired now. my eyes unfocused in the dark, and i reach out for the knob, always hoping my hand will find you instead. but you are not there, never there.

and it's to sleep, perchance to dream again.

unsettling these dreams of late, and i try to shake them off with the demands of the day, but they keep themselves alive camping around in my psyche, and there is nothing i can do to stave off these dreams, the unwanted visitors who come to me late at night and force themselves up from my subconscious.

and i must reconcile that you are gone. and i am still alone.

we sat and talked for hours under the sheltering tree. our girls in the pool swimming and laughing. while we cried, and laughed, and wooed each other out of numbness back into light, and life.

women can do that for each other. call forth the life. stir up the willingness to live again.

and i wonder where i would be without the women who have saved me, have rallied around me. have, each in their small way, not filled your shoes so much as shown me their shoes.

your shoes cannot be filled. i understand this.

and i do not try.

i leave them empty, pointed toward the bed. beside the empty chair that i hope will one day hold you.

and for now, it is enough. to be alive. that a group of fledgie blue jays await my return from the gym so i can scatter peanuts. that the cardinals come by two to my garden still.

and the tiger swallowtail wafts high overhead, and i believe dreams return that way, out of the blue and we welcome the sight of them, however far away they are, their pattern indistinguishable. but our souls cry out, yes, i recognize you. i remember you. i remember what it was, once, to dream.

be here now

is the utterance i hear. but it is also my plaintive cry.

as if anything could change from someone merely being present.

but then everything would have to change. and that pearl jam line,

everything has change, absolutely nothing's changed

strikes me as true once again.

i'm still making mistakes. i think we don't get out of this life without a whole
slew of foibles and follies. i just wish they didn't happen with the guileless.

which is probably why too many guileless don't hang about me.

my cluttered airwaves probably muck up their clarity.

but whatever. it is how it is. and the static of my life is this,
i'm horribly tough on myself. i'm my own worst critic. i'm the elder brother in my own life. i don't need anyone to beat me up, i do a fine job myself.

which is perhaps the pinnacle of myopia. but what can i say?

maybe that is why the confessional stuff comes to me. i bleed it, in a sense.

but my boss kept saying to me,

it's okay, you're new.

and i kept saying,

i know but i don't want to make mistakes.

and i will. i always will.

i want to be perfect even though it's an impossible standard. and i know i'm not perfect, so i live in this angst of imperfection.

that's a good word, angst. it's one of those sounds like it feels words.

anyway. i'll just give myself the day off, since i have it.
and relax with my friend who emailed late and said,

i need you.

it's good to be needed.

i need her too. she keeps me here.

and being here now is the task at hand.

checking out would be the easiest option.

finding friends

so my next two days off, my only two days off, unless i can wrangle this poetry gig i'm going to miss monday night (i gave in so we could have a staff meeting, but that isn't going to happen, and i'm still scheduled. grrr).

anyway, my next two days off will be spent in the bright sunshiney with my new york friend and belly dancer extraordinare. she's been dancing since she was young, so she's amazing. and she doesn't coreograph either, so we have a simliar angle on things. which makes me smile.

she's more free than i am though. in many ways.

but tonight at work, i got to talk to my new manager a bit, and he is really a nice guy. very pleasant. closing didn't go as smoothly as i'd like because when i was trained i was told, the barista knows what to do. (which doesn't sound like a good way to train someone who is ultimately held responsible for all the jobs being completed), but i went with it. there were a lot of other things to learn.

and tonight, i closed the store immediately, asap, because i didn't want to forget. well, i didn't forget, but i found out, one of those "barista" things i didn't get trained on was marking out the expired foods. (which need be done before the store is closed for the night).

my bad.

what can i say. i'm learning the hard way because the training is shoddy. what else can i say.

and i felt tired tonight. just worn out. and this was my day back after three off. i should be recovered. but maybe it was because all i'd eaten today was a bagel with cream cheese, and a cup of coffee. by 7pm when i took my dinner break, i was famished.

the chinese food i got is served so damn hot, i can't eat it on my dinner break because i have to let it cool. you see if i was smart, i'd order it early, and let it sit for a while, then take my dinner break. but that requires planning. and planning is something i don't do well. (apparently).

so i bring my dinner home and leave it for tomorrow morning because i don't eat dinner at midnight when i get home. i would rather wait.

but i'm really hungry, so what to do?

wait until morning. hopefully before i workout i can just have a yogurt, then eat after i workout. no wonder somedays i eat like a linebacker. because the days i eat like a bird leave me hungry.

i could feel the muscles in my stomache this morning because my yoga/belly dancing instructor kicked our collective asses at yoga this week.

i felt all pulled apart like taffy today, and that is a good feeling. but i don't know that i'd go out of my way to do yoga on a regular basis. my new manager says yoga is addictive, but it's not the drug for me i don't think.

i only took it to see my belly dance instructor. i love her. she's the bomb. i told her last night,

i won't see you until belly dancing in september,

and she gave me her digits and said,

call me, we'll get together.

i don't know that i'd be any fun to hang out with, is the thing. i'm overly serious. hardly any fun at all.

but then again, maybe i just need a wild and free friend to help me loosen up, to feel stretchy like taffy.

yes, maybe that's it.

(and i do confess, that it was pretty cool to get her digits because there are very few people i really want to hang out with. she is one. i could really enjoy spending time with her).

i heard it

sometimese i hear a poem and it gets away from me.

this happened yesterday as i pulled into my yoga class parking lot. i could feel the poem. another one of those women flying across the room poems. and i let it speak to me. i had music on, kurtis lamkin, and his kora picking stirs the deep places in me. so i kept my eyes closed and listened.

then my belly dance instructor tapped my shoulder to say hello. i opened my eyes and smiled. the moment was gone.

it is that elusive kids. that quick as lighting. that hard to grasp.

i know the poem will come again, and i will wait for it. because i don't chase them down. i don't sit with a pen and sweat over a page and try to manufacture anything. when that poem works up enough strength and courage (or perhaps it's the other way around), i will hear it, see it, feel it again.

until then, i push it from my conscious mind. i let it go. i trust it will not be gone forever.

seems i do a lot of that.

the moments, gentle as a whisper that i've collected like so many butterflies.

the butterflies are scarce this summer and the ones i see are on some rapid fire mission to get to wherever they are going.

i found a patch of thistle and crouched down beside it, my daughter riding in the outdoor arena, and it was blazing hot. the thistle was beside a shadow, long and lean. the outdoor lights. i stood in the rectangular square of the light box, and saw the honeybees digging deep into the thistle as if scavanging for something.

i got right down to their level, inches away and watched them work.

then a cabbage white appeared briefly and wafted away. i wished it wouldn't go.

but the bees kept on, digging and doing whatever it is they do.

and i was grateful for a moment in their presence.

and there, in the weeds, beside the arena, the longe whip my girl's instructor needed. they were doing a balance lesson and the old black mare, velvet, would slam on the breaks, nearly toppling my girl. (which only added to the skill level, if you ask me), so nicole had to chase her using the longe line end to keep her moving at a relatively consistent pace. my girl's hands on her head or out to the side when velvet would hiccup in her pace.

i produced the whip from the weeds and nicole had an easier time of it too, since it was sweltering in the sun.

i'm grateful bucky and prince have been moved to a paddock with trees. where they were offered no shade, but now, other horses are locked into the heat of day without shade. and nicole says,

that's risky.

when i ask her how one can leave horses out without shade.

but bucky and prince are out all the time, regardless, so i'm glad they have a few trees to duck under if they need them.

i work today, then another day off. i've needed the rest. but it is nearly my last before the rush and hurry of school. i work eight of the next ten days. get off at midnight, before i have to leave home for the airport at 5am, maybe i'll just sleep on the plane. trouble is, i can't sleep on planes.

and i'm there to help with the babies. i hope we get to rest a bit. i imagine it will be well. and school starts while i'm there. when i return, i'm sure my boss will work me a lot. and i've got bills, so i'm grateful. it's a pace i'd been working toward last year, but now, it's here. and i hope i'm ready.

rush and hurry

i feel on the edge of an eddie that will soon suck me in and i'll be swirling for months, i keep trying to avoid the rush and hurry until it is inescapable. but my schedule is filling up, and my time is diminishing rapidly. my free time, that is.

but the good news is, all this running around has helped the waistline, another inch gone. i put on my full belly dance outfit last night, it has been in the back of my closet since i got it. i only put it on once. i had a great many plans for it, but it was nice to see it on. and it looks better now than it did a year and a half ago, that's for sure.

now i'm buying some last components, and having been at that gathering, seeing the ladies actually dance, (they had a couple coreographed routines they did), it made me wonder if i can actually do this, but at the same time, watching them, made me sure i could do this.

does everyone's doubt come housed in confidence as mine does?

i'm sure i don't know.

but the major thing is isolations. i have been working on my isolations for the past year and a half. i should be able to put a dance together, no problem. it's now just a matter of doing it. i have a full semester to work out the kinks. and now, lots of resources.

there is something to be said about a clan of women dancing. it's a beautiful thing. and i think about how much there is to do, how much going on, so many pressures and intrigues, all of it demanding my time and attention. but the focus next semester is on this one dance.

and it's kind of exciting.

plus that huge paper i have to write, but papers have never been a problem for me. now it's a matter of structuring my arguments and trying to get some linear flow to my thoughts. which seem more comfortable in a circular progression. but that must not be how this paper comes forth. it has to lay out flat, or i have to work it out so it at least has a linear thread.

this paper and my dance. that is the whole of next semester and i try to push it from my mind now, but it comes to me, i see it. i got an image of my dance today and it was wonderful.

now i must to the pool with my girl, but first, to eat. i neglect eating, and i that has never been a healthy option.

now, i'm hungry and my body demands that i eat. but here i sit, writing.

peace. out.

becoming a mare

that gorgeous creature of a mare, the thoroughbred, has been raising hell in the barn for weeks. kicking the stalls, pinning her ears, biting anything within reach. it's like someone flipped a switch and now she's a total bitch.

not that i can't say i don't understand. believe me, i do.

today nicole said,

she's becoming a mare, maybe she'll grow out of it.

as she dressed her legs for transport to a show.

you should come.

and maybe we will. but the whole riding competition world does not interest me in the least. if we go, we will go because my child wants to or is showing. we are moving that direction because there are certain things a show will help my girl master. at least this is nicole's logic. and i can't say i know any better. so i go with what nicole says.

but when she left the barn, bandit let out one giant scream, and i walked over to him, and scratched that spot on his neck that is a sweet spot. and he didn't holler anymore, he just let me scratch and scratch and scratch.

i stood beside him and talked to him, until we threw him a flake of hay and he got busy eating. nervous eating, i guess you'd call it.

and i went back to mucking stalls and fiddling about with the others, as i'm inclined to do.

and bandit hollered once much later, before we left.

and i found it a particular triumph that he, who was inconsolable before (when we first started spending time with him/them), now only bellows twice. and i can't say i blame him. she's gone. she went to a show and left him there.

he's got abandoment issues, i understand that too.

and of course, i'm anthropomorphizing, but whatever. it is what it is. in equine terms i think it amounts to just missing her, and i understand that too. equine terms or human. both the same.

love and separation, grief and abandonment, loneliness and fear. all of these things are palpable parts of my life, and have been since i was. to feel these things from another creature is not some great mystery. to stand in that place, beside his giant shoulders, which are as tall as me when i'm wearing my platform flipflops (which i love), and he licks my fingers and looks at me so desperately. i understand it all.

i will not judge him for being attached to another. i will simply love him as he is. the big dramatic deal he is.

wouldn't be the first time.

i just imagine him in his prime, hunting. he must have been something. and now, slightly working, he just needs something to occupy his mind and his time. otherwise, i don't think he could help being neurotic.

and for now, that he is assuaged by my presence even slightly, it is enough.

for he assuages me. that's how it works.

the measure you mete out. or something like that.

bow out

it's late, i must to bed, but first, i must write. always this writing thing. and this happens to me most when i am without pen.

i went back to my old haunt and saw the vet, who informed me of how things have been in my absence. i walked around that store feeling light and free. it was a nice feeling.

the heat has been oppressive, so when i arrived at my friend's and was not scrambling to get inside, i noticed a blue, robin's egg blue, dragonfly on the ground. uncertain if he was living, i walked up to him, and he lifted off.

then i noticed a marigold with a common sulpher on it. and it took me back to texas. to my garden back then, the only place i've ever had a garden. and how i would sit for hours in that garden. watch the sun rise. the morning glories open. feel the appraoching storms, and count the monarchs migrating.

it has been a long time since i've wanted to be in that garden, but there were so many wonders there. truly.

and so i stood there, with the sulpher, and watched him fly a figure eight, but the word infinity came to me. and he landed on a flower ust by the one he'd lifted off from. then darted around again, to get to the next flower.

i'd not do well as a butterfly, i'm all straight and shortcutty. they're all liberal with their erratic flight. i'm erratic, but not when it comes to travel. i want the straight shot home. though i guess if there were huge beaks waiting to gobble me up, i'd come to appreciate the finer points of misdirection.

not now.

and so, my friend's husband arrives home from work to me standing at the foot of their walkway, staring down at the flowers. i saw him as he pulled into the garage, but i was locked on the sulpher. there was no place else in the world i'd rather be.

then their daughter poked her head out the front door.

i don't know how long she was there, or what she was saying. probably, we're home, come in. but i was listening to music and mesmerized by the erratic flight of one so delicate.

and finally she came outside to see what i was doing. invited me in, and i said,

in time i'll be there.

(note: if i ever come to your house and am mesmerized by something like a flower or bird or butterfly, ust leave me there. let me be. in time it will end, but those are the moments when poems speak themselves. and time ceases it's crushing press. don't even try to get my attention, just let me be lost in whatever it is i am lost in. perhaps you could join me and get lost in it, too--it has taken great pains to teach my daughter this. to teach her how to tiptoe into my moments rather than come crashing in like a wave).

in truth, i just wanted to see the hawk that roosts in the tree lining their property. gorgeous, the valley tucked between two mountains. i could make a life in those hills. those curves would nestle me safely if i let them.

and then, i deadheaded her marigolds. there is something healing about scattering seed. i see why men enjoy it. i knew most of the seeds would be gobbled up by a hungry bird, up early. but some would take root. some would become. some would live.

and those are the seeds that i scattered today.

poor reproductive success. i thought.

but perhaps not. maybe just nature's way of providing for all. some got to eat. some got to live. some got to grow.

i went in after thinking, this is probably the one prohibited behavior of persian households, the friend scattering marigold seeds in the garden without permission. and so i apologized for deadheading her flowers, and i said,

smell my fingers.

hmm.

she said.

musky. right?

yes. musky.

and she laughed.

so we went to a gorgeous house up past georgewashington's encampment, and i was told a bit of history which i promptly forgot. and we were just women together.

that was the best part. no children. no husbands. no pressures.

just us, our hearts, our lives. who we are in this moment. who we want to be in the next.

and i must go to bed, i'm tired. but i remembered why i don't dance in groups or care for choreography, it's just not how i was intended to dance.

though the veil work was gorgeous, i can see how a group would make for a smashing performance. but then you have the performance angle again.

i'm not a dancer to perform. i'm a dancer because i must dance to live.

and so, tonight, i lived again. for a moment. and it was not half bad.

it was actually good. that unfamiliar feeling of simple satisfaction.

what it means

driving home from my workout, the hawk circles high above my home. and i am taken back to a time not long ago. a time when i believed in something. someone.

i keep scratching at the dusty floor, hoping something has made it, that there will be more than just rocks and dirt but that seems to be how it is.

and my girl tells me she doesn't feel like we spend "any" time together.
to which i reply,

i spend all my time with you when i'm not at work, so what time is left?

this does not appease her. and she will not relent.

what does it mean, to spend time together?

i wonder. i ask.

let's go swimming. or talk.

we talk all the time. and i didn't swim because of a new tat, that's the only reason why, though there are no excuses.

i don't understand how if i give someone my everything, every ounce of interest i can muster, every scrap of love i have left. that this is not sufficient.

and my husband with his long bloodhound eyes asks me why i don't spend any time around him. and i don't have time for that shit. he's an adult. and just before i go to bed to get up at 4am, is not the time to tell me how i'm missed in my life.

i guess i've become a cutout of who i was. but it doesn't feel that way.

i feel my life so acutely now. the monotone scream of it all. the whirring of fans and air conditioners when the only sound i want to hear is a sparrow or a crow.

and i asked myself, when is a good time to get my next tat? we plan on swimming ust as much this winter as we are this summer. how can i squeeze it in?

i won't rush it though. though i like this artist. i trust him. and trust is everything to me.

there is nothing left to give. i have my arms spread out, and my hands wide open. i have nothing else. this is all i am. who i am.

and tonight i go off to a belly dancing gathering with my friend, and my daughter pouts because the daughter of this friend is very much adored, and my girl would like to accompany me. but it is not, so not about the children tonight.

and i must get away.

i must find my own way sometimes. i cannot only give. they would bleed me dry.

and i've become one of those women, comfortable with her body, the shape of it, the imperfections. languishing on top of the water, floating there as if there were no place else in the world to be.

and for a moment, there wasn't.

but duty calls to me now, and i must find a way to get it done. i clear my schedule so i can be with my girl, though she doesn't feel like i'm being with her for some reason i don't yet understand.

and i do the best i can and let the rest go. realizing, we are only given this one life to do the best we can with.

no one will every fully comprehend, ever understand the choices we made. so we must, at the very least, make them and sleep well at night.

and that which is mine will come to me. i believe this.

the hawk circled high in the sky as i lay out on my towel, and i was grateful to see him. and wondered if he saw me.

that was fun!

so, i've not made lots of little mistakes. i tend to make gigantor mistakes. :D

like forgetting to close down the computer for our business day on friday night. oops. my bad.

and when i first learned how to write up the deposits, i had the girl training me so befuddled, she didn't know how to fix it. fortunately, all this teaching math to my kid paid off, it was a simple algebra problem with one missing variable. i worked it backwards and found the variable. voila. my co-worker was impressed. and said,

at least i know how to do that if that ever happens again.

today i did it all by myself and didn't even flub it (well, just a little tiny flub), but nothing horribly terribly no good very bad wrong. just a bitsy mistake that was easily remedied.

and i leave the place bangin'. my young shift co-worker arrives 45 minutes late, and there are no dishes, there is no crisis, the place is the bomb. and she has the nerve to tell me i didn't make chocolate syrup. so i said,

so make it.

i mean damn. what is a girl to do. i guess i should have stayed so she didn't have to do any work, yes?

i was already 45 minutes over my time with her late arrival. and i'm wiped. maybe i shouldn't have stayed the extra, but i thought it better in the absence of direction to the contrary to make sure the shift was covered.

what if she didn't turn up? who would close the store? not that i want to, mind you, but i would have made sure someone was there to do it before i left.

anywhoo, enough about that.

i work with this nice guy, a future paleontologist. i have a soft spot for giant reptiles that devour things (even plants), and so, we have stuff to talk about. he finally finds out i'm a poet today, and says,

what do you write?

confessional.

and i look at him.

those are the most interesting poets.

(which i found profoundly amusing, because the whole time i'm thinking, god what a cliche).

what kinds of things do you confess?

depends on what kind of mood i'm in.

and fortunately, a customer enters and i'm saved from divulging too much info. (funny how irl i'm weird that way). but in the context of a poem, anything goes.

anywhoo, when he arrived this morning, almost late, i said,

you look tired.

because seriously, this guy is a college student, and he looked like he did an all nighter. he may have, i didn't get a straight line out of him.

but i understand because this early shift has me lying awake all night counting down the hours until i'm up.

i do my best math in the middle of the night when i'm half asleep. why is that? i can wake up at 3:28 and know i have exactly 32 minutes more to sleep, when i get stumped if someone gives me a twenty and i'm wide awake?

i don't know.

but at 3am, the last time i remembered looking at the clock (the drawback of having a clock is i always look at it. i guess i should turn the face away so i stop being compulsive about it, lying there counting down the minutes i have left--kind of a reverse counting of the sheep. it's like i'm trying to shove the grains back in the hourglass but backward--then, if i oversleep, turned away clock will still sqwak. squak? sqwauk? why can't i spell that damn word).

anyway, i slept the best hour of my life from 3-4 this morning. i don't know why, i don't know how. but i was jolted out of sleep at 4am thanks to my pink alarm clock.

now, i never use an alarm clock, because i set my internal clock. but somehow, my internal clock is on the fritz or something, because i never would have gotten up this morning. though, if i hadn't been up all night looking at the pink external clock, maybe i would have gotten up. this is truly the chicken and the egg all over again.

so me and the paleontologist are working (that's a long word, i'll regret dubbing him that in the near future). and he says,

you must spell really good.

i said,

i spell better now that i don't use spell check.
but i also spell worse. funny how that works.

yeah,

he said.

turns out, we are both bird lovers. he has a blue crowned amazon. and i told him the story of my beloved blue crowned amazon. and how i let four parakeets fly around my apartment like i'm a crazy bird lady.

but whatever. the other night, i got home around midnight and the birds were still out. they weren't up to any evil. and they don't see well late at night, i could have caught them, but i thought it might be too traumatic for them, and i wasn't up for the chase. so i left them out.

i hardly let them out anymore. it's something i have to really want to do because they shit everywhere, and i have to clean it up. that's the facts. very few birds are housetrained.

anyway, i apologized to the paleo for sending him home early last week. he'd taught me alot, working with me for my first opening. and i had to go send his ass home early.

he said,

don't apologize.

but you see, he is not whom i would ever send home early. he actually works, and works hard. needs very little supervision. in fact, sometimes, it feels like he's supervising me.

today he unpacked and repacked all the coffee i scooped (only three pounds) because sista don't know how to ax for help, and just did it her way.

well, her way ain't the right way. i'm glad he redid it. i won't forget it next time.

then he said to me,

just don't keep making the same mistakes

(when i told him i forgot to close the store friday night).

which i found obviously profound.

as he left today, he said,

that was fun.

with a big smile on his face.

i was glad he had fun. that we had more time to talk than the last two times we'd worked together. there is just so much shit for me to remember, and i did a major mind dump yesterday by typing out lists of things i need to remember to do. now i don't have to keep it all on the grey. i can let it go and get on with my life.

i've rambled on long enough. work is good. it's real good.

i'm tired though. time to veg. belly dancing get together tomorrow night and i finally get to swim again, my tat is back to normal (or has become normal), and it took three weeks. fortunately, my girl only missed one swim excursion in the process.

peace out.

dodge year

this is a dodge poetry festival year, and i finally bought my tickets. four days at the woodstock of poetry. my girl in tow for most, maybe all, if not, i'll drag some other hapless soul along for the ride.

i needed to pull myself out of my funk, and there is nothing like a heady dose of poetry to do just that. this year, jane hirschfield will be reading. i can't wait.

i've all ready got the days off work. i'm stoked.

my new manager was in, he's a nice guy but he keeps calling me darlin'. which i find funny. i called some kid sweetie (a guy) the other day, and thought, that probably wasn't a good idea. i didn't mean to, it ust came out. so what can i say, maybe darlin' slipped out for him.

he seems nice enough. reminds me of an elf.

i'll be as flexible as i can. and he's giving me 40 hours one week. my god, i hope i survive.

i will, i'm sure i will. it's ust alot. more than i expected. but i closed alone last night and it went well. i'm damn good at closing the store. i hope i didn't miss anything.

the young new shift (that's the type of manager i am, lowest on the management totem), was driving me nuts. she just doesn't get it.

i have to not let this kid get under my skin, though she pisses me off. and i've got to find some way to deal with it.

i hate feeling like i'm holding the ball, and with her, there is no forethought. only a blind stare at the now. (which is mean, i know, but hey, whatever).

at least, the very least, since we share the same title, my shifts only overlap hers by an hour or so at the most.

good thing, i'd likely kill her if i had to work a whole shift with her.

i'm off today. hopefully i go to see bucky. hopefully not for the last time.

peace. out.

disregard

i'm not sure what it is i expect.

perhaps not to find my visual file, my artists collage crammed behind the tv.
the god of our home.

perhaps to find the windows of my sleeping chamber still open, as i left them, so the oppressive 90 degree heat can escape, rather than accumulate. it is hard to sleep when sweltering on baking hot sheets.

but here i am, up, sweating from having worked and not had decent air conditioning there (i'm always burning up at work, because i actually work), but also because our a/c sucks.

and now, home, where i hope to have some relief, i find none. only more exacerbation.

i ran out of rope a long time ago. what keeps me here, i do not know. my child for sure. thinking, it is for her i stay, for her alone.

certainly not for this facade of a marriage.

there i've said it.

marriage sucks. and i will never marry again, if i can help it. it is not worth it to me to be married. it is a prison. a death of soul and i cannot escape it.

i am trapped.

but i'm not really. i'm working on a plan.

now i've gone and said too much. i've been too honest. but that has always been my worst flaw.

and now, no different.

i'm tired. of it all.

i pray the rains will come and wash it all away. that somewhere spring will remind me of why i labor through the winter. and that winter will revive me again.

i want that home with the raging fire, and the buffalo skin rug. that place of my dreams. i still remember how to dream. even though real life is pretty much shit.

it's just my home life that is shit. the rest is pretty decent.

i must try to sleep, but it's too hot. so i'll likely linger awake for an indeterminate amount of time.

such is life.

life

there is a word that keeps coming up.

life.

i want to ask, what does life mean to you?

is it what you think i do. live mine.
is it what you think you do? or by acknowledging life, you accept the fact that you must make room for it in yours.

is yours presently void of life, is that even possible?

is life the presence of a heartbeat alone?
the absence of shadow and stone?

i wonder.

life.

do i have one. do i know what it means? can i offer you mine and recieve yours? are we meant to reveal the meaning to, for others?

i do not know.

but when you use this word, life. i understand you have a particular meaning. a peculiar connotation i am not getting.

i have to make time for life,

you say.

and i wonder how that is possible? and what does that mean? how does it mean?

is life the presence of thought? or, the absence of it?

is life some intangible elusive, or something palpable and present?

this word strikes me as something familiar, yet foreign. something i do not know, have not experienced. but am eager to explore.

and it is also something that taunts me.

something i live in the recesses of my heart. where i am another wife.

life.

i must remember to make time for it.

made it through

my dark moods are not pitch black anymore, but they are still cause for caution and sense. both of which i lack in dark moods. why is that always the case, that what we need most is most elusive at the time we need it? i don't know.

and the wood chuck munching on tender leaves at the bend in the road, whom i chased off the road with my obliging horn, lay dead in that very spot yesterday, and i wished i could have saved him somehow.

but the wild will do as the wild will do. and we can only enjoy them. let them light our lives and nibble on our plants. they cannot be helped to avoid the terrors that stalk them, they can only be loved. as they are. for however long they are. that they are is their beauty. their significance, their contribution. that we get to see them, and love them, is our reward alone.

it gives me such joy to see the giant hamsterlike woodchuck amble out of harms way. they are quite fast moving, and it's like watching a soaked bathmat take up the chase.

somehow, i have hope. i don't know where it comes from or why. i don't know how it reappears in my life so suddenly, but there it is. and i am grateful to see it. a life void of hope is no life at all.

but thich nhat hahn would say,

kill hope.

and i still can't reconcile this wisdom. it doesn't fit into my life. i know hope is for tomorrow, but sometimes, tomorrow is all that gets me through today. the hope that things will be just a bit more bearable tomorrow.

and i wonder, as tomorrow has arrived, that it feels a bit more managable. not easy, by no means easy. but manageable.

i do not know when certainty will come again, maybe never. but i hope it will arrive someday. and i will welcome it.

i got a fortune cookie, recently, which i found the fortune from, and it said "you will have an enlightening experience." which made me laugh, because my resignation letter, turned in just two weeks before said, the summation of my experience at that particular place was "enlightening" and i hadn't known why i chose that word. partly because it made me laugh, partly because it was true.

then finding the cookie fortune made me laugh again.

i remember i'm supposed to walk in beauty, i don't know that i've done that. but i hope, somehow, what people percieve as outward beauty translates to inner beauty, because that is the only beauty that counts.

i don't want to be a shell of a woman. a pristine exterior housing nothing. a facade. i want to be beauty embodied, but i don't know what that means or how it looks and most days, it feels very far from me. like i can't even touch the feet of it. or glimpse the shape or substance of it.

i guess, that i'm even moving in that direction is progress, but my horizons all look like the sahara, and i'm not sure which way i'm supposed to be going, or if the way i'm faced is the right way. if it will lead somewhere. i guess everywhere leads somewhere, but i just don't know. and here again hope finds its purpose:

i hope where i'm headed is where i'm meant to be.

work sense

sometimes work makes sense to me. it reminds me of why i am here, who i am. that i have a purpose. that i am capable. this is why, i think, women work outside the home. to find themselves again.

the monetary incentive may be slight but something is a better indicator than nothing.

and tonight, when i arrived, the place was utter chaos. a young girl who was promoted out of a lack of options was all ready starting the closing duties at 3:30pm. which is madness. so she had the place torn apart by the time i got there. and i can't function like that. we covered this all ready.

then, she takes her lunch and leaves early. leaving me holding the ball.

i was irrirated because it was clearly immaturity that was the problem. she doesn't know what to prioritize so she undid most everything and thought this "helpful" even though she was advised (ironically) by the girl who gave me shit last time i worked that i don't do it the way she was doing it.

so when that young manager left, i said,

let's get it back together and then do it my way.

but there was so much that needed to be done just to get the place back to ground zero, it took some time to make up the lost ground. but we made it up. and things ran smooth as silk.

the young manager was warning me that she got out of there an hour late last night. that it was "crazy" and i need to be prepared.

i said,

okay, no problem.

my methods work. i trust them. it's easier to perform quickly in a sane environment than tearing the place apart and trying to do customer service.

without fail, when i run a shift, we get things cleaner and the store completely stocked before we leave.

i'm a damn good manager.

now if this held sway with my child, it would be well.

i see why women work. it's easier, in a sense, to be in a limited time commitment environment than home. home is draining, demanding, and the rewards are intangible.

i'm grateful to be doing both. the time away makes me miss my girl,
and the time at home has become more fruitful. i waste a lot less time than i used to simply because i have a lot less time to waste.

but i must go to bed sometime in the near future.

tomorrow i finally close alone. FINALLY.

i'm looking forward to it. we got out right on time tonight. i expect no less tomorrow.

and i look forward to the new adventure. but i won't get home until one am. hopefully i'll be able to sleep when i return home.

peace. out.

reunion

it used to be a favorite word for me. now it's one i want no part of, unless it be the reunion i dream of. not the throngs of people i didn't know and still don't care about from high school. not the groups of people who share a common interest. none of that matters to me. i'd rather not be a part of those kinds of reunions.

i have to be "on" at work.

to smile and speak to people. ask them how they are, where they are headed. what's going on, pry basically.

and i'm good at it. i even remember some of the details for their next visit.

but i don't care about any of that.

it is not what motivates me. leaning forward and gaining momentum used to be what moved me forward, but that has lost it's allure.

i was needing that summer class to stave off some of this confusion. but maybe confusion is what i need now. a big heavy dose of, just get up, go to work, and accomplish a few things. rather than create, believe, dream.

that i can't see what's coming doesn't surprise me anymore. i've ceased looking. ceased caring. i'm just here now. in this time and space.

but sometimes, my heart gets away from me and wanders into other places, and entertains the lost, houses the solitary. and i must draw it back inside my too limited body, and try to contain all it brings to me.

to compartmentalize these wings, these dreams, these hopes. for they are not for now. they are never for now. they are for tomorrow. for someday. not now.

i wonder whom i'll meet today. that still intrigues me. that a face can stand out in a crowd and be someone to me, in my life. they can penetrate this haze and bring me a point of light, a moment of clarity so elusive on my own.

and then, when i am tired, i lay down and wonder why sleep eludes me. my mind reels and spins, and i wander back through what was once familiar, to find no thing is familiar. it is all estranged. and i am a stranger in my own life.

and i have lost interest in it all. but here i am. in the middle of it still. trying to find my way back to caring. back to believing.

and duty draws me away from these doubts. the place and time i must show up and punch in. the demands it makes on my energies are just enough to sustain me.

until i am home again, foraging for comfort. and finding none.

in a few weeks i will see my sister again. and hold her babies. walk the beaches where i became who i am today. and try not to miss the family that will not be seeing me. whose arms will not embrace me, and whose kiss will not refresh my lips.

but this is how life is for me.

and now, just in time, duty calls.
i must away.

nonperforming

i've never been into dancing before people. very rarely have i done it. twice in denver, once in puente hills, and i'm really strapped for remembering when else. the other times i've danced, it's been in the back of the room in a world of my own. did people watch? probably. but was i performing? no. absolutely not.

so i've started reading my belly dance books for next semester because when it hits, it's really a lot of reading for six months. and, i figure, why not?

this particular book i'm reading is detailing the history of belly dance and it has made me think, this is not something i want to do in public. or for strangers. it is something i will do only for the select few. a handful of women. my lover. that's it.

at my friend's house yesterday, she put on some persian musican and began moving (she is a belly dancer, who got in a car accident and now can't dance), but she floated around to the music, and i was so impressed.

you move so well.

and then i let her hear what i want to dance to, and she said,

it sounds good. you can do it.

because for me, it is not a traditional dance. it is an expressive dance. and while i have the mellow music i need, i have my own ideas and interpretations. so when everyone finally left and our daughters were alone in the pool, we sat in the kitchen and talked.

i think if i perform for anyone at my school, it will be the female art professor, mostly because she is female (and i trust her). the two male professors i trust are not available next semester, so i will not likely choose some strange male to advise me if there is a suitable female.

we discussed the reactions of men to belly dancing and the first performance she did where unknown men were present.

and i am sure, it will not be where i'm going.

where will you do it?

i will be alone or with my daughter, or someone recording the dance.

no audience?

no.

that's easier then.

yes, i don't need an audience.

i just hadn't decided how to go about showing this dance to my professor. but i will let my advising female professor view the entire dance, while the rest of the school gets to see only stills incorporated into my final presentation.

this makes sense to me. it keeps with my preference for nonperformance.

i have a lot to learn, but i won't make the same mistakes i did when i was young, simply because my gut has developed. my sixth sense rocks.

i kid you not

so i'm here, at a kid's bday party, managed to rustle up a laptop, and i've got to tell you this.

i was pulling my usual antisocial behavior.

showing up late to the party, sitting in the livingroom, reading with my mp3 player on, and finally the hostess convinces me (actually, it was my girl), to venture outside. to brave the wilds (you'd think i never went outside), but when i'm in an indoor mood, i like to stay indoors.

so, out i go.

i take a seat in the hot sunshiney, and feign interest in the conversation. but it gets to be too much to me, and i retrieve my books (always my failsafe).

so, everyone gets up to go inside for things going on (and i lag behind). the lady i'm walking in with says,

i don't like crowds.

and i say,

neither do i.

so we stand outside talking. on the steps just on the other side of the sliding glass doors, so we're not out of eyeshot when everyone reappears from the basement, but we're still out of obligatory chat proximity.

i am even interested in what she's saying when suddenly i feel a pinprick on my derrier.

then another.

i had been sitting by the garden with my legs up, my habitual, comfortable pose. feet propped up on something, bare of foot. always.

well, this inquisitive little wasp thought i was some breed of lily never explored and takes it upon himself to venture in.

and up. when i stood.

i start feeling prick after prick on my hind parts, and decide, i must figure out what is going on. i realize (i mean, come on, how many stings does it take to figure out you've got a wasp in your pants?)

i dash up the stairs and say,

i have to go inside.

and i blow past the lady and into the restroom, remove my capris and find, mr. striped butt crawling around inside.

i turn my thonged hind to the mirror and discover several, not just one, not just two, somewhere in the neighborhood of five to seven stings on my butt.

and i flush him.

what else could i do with him, really? i had to put my pants back on.

and when i came out, i finally got my friend's attention and self medicated with a shot of benadryl (after calling my husband and hearing him laugh as i explain the situation), he is my pharmacist. i never know how much of what to take.

some consideration was given to using the discarded pint size ziploc to ice the area, but it was decided more coverage was needed to adequately ice the bitepattern and a gallon bag was produced.

the children and adults were much amused by my shoving a gallon bag of ice down my pants and leaving it there.

a pot of coffee is made to counteract the sleepiness of the benadryl, and then, when my buns started getting numb, i laid off the ice for a while.

i'm not sure if i saw stingers, i've never been stung before. but i did see red areas and i have a smidge of discomfort.

truly, i do not invite these woes to have something to write about. it just happens.

i can't figure out what, if anything, the meaning of this latest exchange could be. everything has to have meaning in my life. but i'll let you know if i ever figure this out.

withdrawals

it hasn't hit me yet, what i am losing. i can feel it getting closer and i keep moving away. i'm not ready to face it, to look it's cold dead eyes on square and reckon with loss again. i just can't take it.

so today, until tomorrow, until saturday, i will believe it will be as it was. as it is. though as it is, is not the best it could be. i must remember this. that is my strong tonic at this moment. by opting for delusion, i must reckon with the fact of that delusion, and the fact is, my child would suffer most if we stay.

she can't intimidate me,

my girl said. after telling me all the children would dive into stalls when godzilla would walk into the barn.

except me,

she'd say.

i would just stand there and ignore her

(my approach to godzilla, and i love my girl for being brave enough to hold her ground).

incredulous at these stories, i would tell her,

no adult should try to frighten a child, ever. no adult should ever try to intimidate a child. unless they are not right in the head--and those are the kinds of adults you get away from.

we walked the grounds and looked at the run-down state, such beautiful grounds in their prime, i imagine. the grandstands erect rusted metal, with no boards for sitting and walking.

the screen of the announcer's box flaps in the wind.

looking at discarded metal from grandstands in giant piles. nicole says,

it doesn't take a genius to figure out that that is dangerous. any child or horse could get hurt on that. horseriding is inherently dangerous, the key is, to minimize the dangers. but they don't do that here.

right.

we stood at the paddock where the young thoroughbred and bandit were waiting to come in. i said to nicole,

i am having trouble with someone who can't mend fences. the disarray of these fences, nearly every fence on this property needs tending. is such an outward sign of an inward state.

she looked down the length of the paddock. and said,

yes.

we walked in to get the horses, and bandit was raring to go, the perstering flies are torment at the moment. but i circled him around so nicole could exit first because her thoroghbred doesn't like to wait. or follow.

bandit and i lingered a bit in the field. i moved him from patch of clover to patch of clover. then we went after the ponies.

could you come back for some lessons if you needed to?

things don't tend to end well here, even when you try. a lot of trainers, with followings, have come and gone from here.

(the barns are mostly empty now. just a few horses in barn two, and barn one is mostly full. they are losing most of barn two with nicole's exodus. not because the barn is so small, but because it's so empty.

it doesn't make sense to run off the people who are here.

i mention, but then realize, not much about these folks makes sense. and i feel guilty, somewhat, for not helping minimize the owner's arguments. but if her argument was with my skin color, nothing can be done about that.

so, denial will not work long for me, because my brain won't let me just ignore the facts. i don't want to embrace lies, delusion, it is a bad precedent.

so i will let myself grieve again. for those knights whom i have loved and now will lose in body. they will exist in a place i cannot see, and i will have them, hold them, only in my memory.

the verdict is

today my girl's riding instructor told me, quietly, she is likely going to leave the farm she's got five horses stabled at, and go to one just a bit farther from us. but what's ten more minutes to get to those you love? the owner of the current farm is simply nuts. there is no other way to put it. and i finally heard it from nicole's ears myself.

i'm sadly relieved. but my bittersweet life continues. i won't get to see bucky anymore. and this leaves me sad.

but i understand why. will he?

if i have to lose someone or something, instead of my girl, so be it. that is always the way a parent would go.

as we were driving from the farm today, my girl said,

we have to bring the camera and get lots of photos of bucky.

this may be the last time i see him, (except that my new tat happens to feature his glorious mug, and that of his stablemate, prince.

i had to find some way to keep them near me forever, and as luck would have it, i got it done, and i'm grateful for it.)

one cannot know what one will lose in this life, we can only cherish what we have been given. be close to it for as long as we can, and try to remember, my mantra,

that which is mine will come to me.

i'm greatly relieved, and i'm sure, some time today, or late tonight, when i do my reckoning, i will find it incredibly sad that i can't see bucky anymore. but he is not my charge. and i have been faithful with what i have been given.

there is nothing else for me to do, except walk away.

that has always been what it comes to for me.

and while i leave with five, no, six, new companions. i wish there were one or two more who were going to be physically present with me in our new haunts.

what will these eyes see? where will we go? whom will we meet?

i do not know.

my girl is going to be preparing for her first show. and bandit welcomes my handling. he's yielding more and more to my touch, and i'm grateful for his trust. he is an innocent.

but then, so is bucky.

peace. out.

wide awake dreaming

she had a dream about you. confirming my beliefs. and yet she said,

but i don't remember the details.

i nearly decked her. but was glad to hear it all ends well.

how does it?

it's a mystery.

i still know no more than i did a year ago. less, in fact.

but, what can i say, i keep moving forward, if that means anything.

and tonight at work, the welcome wagon departed and i got a shitload of grief from a couple of the kids.

my nj best friend walks in and says,

what's wrong?

nothing. i'm fine.

but those who know me, know me. what can i say. i wear no poker face. i was not meant to.

the trouble began when i started changing the way things is done. when i worked my first night shift at my new digs, chaos reigned. i couldn't believe they functioned that way. there were, literally, holes in the counters i kept trying not to lose cups to.

syrup containers were everywhere and in no particular order.

the place was a disaster. i come to find out, this is how the person who trains me cleans, and runs her closing shift. she takes everything apart and moves it all around and cleans. the whole shift is done in this quasi madness, but it gets done. they are used to it, that is how they have always done it. until tonight.

so tonight, it was my turn to run my first closing shift (i opened alone on sunday), and i did it completely different. i took one station apart at a time, so there was never chaos.

i told the kids,

just work clean. as we go along and clean things, if you make a mess, just stop and clean it up. this way the store stays in order while we work, and we clean as we go.

makes sense to me.

but the girl who gave me the warmest welcome last week, stood there and looked at me,

i don't know what to do, everything is different.

not everything, just some things. and i like to keep things in place for the new people.

the new guy said the chaos doesn't bother him, and she let me know this, and i said,

i'm new. it bothers me. i couldn't work like that last week. i need it in order to be functional.

she said,

when the shift comes in (the girl who trained me), she'll want it done the way it's always done. and this might work under new management, but it wouldn't work the way it was before.

it's her perogative to tell me to redo what i've done. but i'm the shift and i'd like to try it this way. we are still doing everything, just not taking the place apart at one time.

then she made comments to the other "partner" (they're called partners not associates), about things i think were intended for me, but whatever. high school here we come.

meanwhile, i'm trying to train the new kid on the bar, as i can see he clearly does not know how to make some of the difficult drinks.

ultimately, she ended up stocking the floor, and doing more than i think she normally does in the way of work aside from cleaning because the priorities were different. i ran the shift completely different than the other girl, which makes sense.

and by the end of the night i said,

do you still hate it?

she said,

no, it makes complete sense. i just didn't understand what you were doing.

i know, i didn't tell you, i'm sorry about that.

the thing is, i'm not inclined to tell the whole world my plans, i like to just do what i do. which i'm guessing, doesn't work for everyone.

i wanted her to know i needed her help and experience, so i said,

i need your help. if i've missed anything, let me know.

i think you got everything,

she said. and then through the rest of our closing, things went smoother. which was good.

i don't like to have tension between me and others. i don't mean to be stubborn and change things.

but i figure, if you work clean, there is no need to spend an exorbitant amount of time at the end cleaning. so i kept up with the dishes, i kept up with the trash, and removed it from the back room when it built up.

so when the shift who was training me arrived, there were no dishes, no trash, the floors had been mopped (as much as possible), restrooms cleaned, drains cleaned, and most of the barware sanitized. we had her entire shift to do customer service and just a few more essential cleaning things that simply cannot get done until close. and i had shift duties to perform, closing tills, counting the safe, and a couple breaks.

it all got done and we clocked out on time. i think i covered everything, i guess i'll find out.

friday night i close alone. get off at midnight, home around 1am. we'll see how it goes, but i look forward to being on my own, i work best that way.

and now here i am, wide awake, wondering where you are and if you can hear me.

the key to my liberation

i don't want to do the dishes. i didn't want to take my kid to the pool. i didn't want to go workout. i'm wanting more, always wanting more.

but i took my kid to the pool, went and worked out, and soon, i will go stand at the sink for an hour and scrub dishes.

i will be glad when they are done, feel that peculiar sense of satisfaction, that caring for others, tending responsibilities brings.

just now though, i feel like curling up in a ball and sleeping for about a week. i don't think i shook that tired that stalked me last semester, and i better find some rest this next two weeks before it starts all over again.

i don't want to hear about whose dying and how. i don't want to be afraid of anything. i want to believe the hawk still flies and there are dreams that do come true. but today, none of that feels real.

it all feels distant and i'm tired, too tired to fight my head which nags at me, the facts of the matter. too tired to say, damn logic, i'm going with my heart.

my heart just wants to find some peace, and at the moment, that means yielding to the dictates of the head.

i wanted to tell you more of the clown story, but i never came back around to it. it became about me just staying awake, and not passing out at 7pm, so i can wake up at 4am. i have to work until 12 tonight, so maybe these irregular schedules are messing with me. i'm not sure. i'm not sure.

i did see bucky saturday, he was golden like a ripe wheat field, glistening in the sun, his sleek scarred body smelled so good to me. i ran my hands along his flanks, and kissed his grey muzzle. he nickered as we approached and whinnied as we left. he usually silently receives me, but it's been a long time. too long. and his stablemate was indoors, for some reason. so bucky saw us at prince's stable feeding him a cookie. bucky probably was grateful to get a whiff of one so familiar on our hands.

i keep sneaking around trying not to get in trouble, but i think that is the worst way of being someplace. i'd rather just do what i'm going to do, than slink about.

my heart needs rest. how does one find rest for a weary heart. where does one go to recover the certainties they once stood upon and grasped in strong hands. hands that are now empty as the moonless night. empty as the winter pond.

and i didn't go to the rez this week, but last time i was there, just overhead flew a swan. a lone swan. and i was glad to see him, and wondered where he was headed.

there are so many questions that flood my mind, and sometimes, the mind needs to just idle rather than rev higher and higher.

the dishes are calling to me. and i will go do them. they may hold secrets for me. they may release some mystery and wonder. the remnants of yesterday, the sordid bits that i pick through and try to comprehend. it's all i know. it's all i know.

it was those damn clowns!

so, midway through my shift, snuggles and pinky are at the register. snuggles in a purple wig, big red nose, requisite smiley face (so as not to scare away the children supposedly being "entertained" by this macabre sight). pinky, had yellow hair, big red nose, and painted on smile, as well.

pinky's drink comes together nicely, but when it's snuggles turn--after the requisite conversation which starts,

i've always been afraid of clowns--

my co-worker frozen in place, eyes locked on these two smiling happy (or manic, i'm not sure which), clowns.

it was that movie, the clown movie.

i say
when we're trying to decide why everyone is afraid of clowns.

i couldn't remember the film then, but if i'm not mistaken, poltergeist has a rather horrible clown scene. (poor clowns, they get a bad rap).

or maybe it's just that they are supposed to be happy in a relatively unhappy world. or the joker is the most well known clown and look how he turned out? i'm not sure.

mmm, dinner. brb.

i am no eagle

but i would like to be someday.

the chief came to my poetry reading on tuesday. he knew a few of the people there, i guess you don't get to be who you are and not meet a few people along the way.

and now, he plans to start writing some things down, he says.

which makes me happy. writing is infectious. he puts it,

the only chiefs who get the time to look for eagles are the ones that live in the clouds with them.

which also makes me smile. it was a good, strong reading night, the other. it has been so long since i've just been able to read with no real baggage. i could have read longer, but i didn't have an agenda, and i don't know how much of my work to subject people to in one sitting.

but there was at least two poets there who made themselves known and will likely join us for future meetings/readings. which is good. we need to work on delivery, but that will get done. and our fall reading (seems like we'll be doing these quarterly), will be in october. i'm looking forward to it.

ah, and the good news is, last night at work i met a musician, who also has a recording studio. his rates are reasonable and i'm going to try to get together with him to do companion cds of me reading my works. these are very effective. i listen to galway kinnel all the time. though i don't know that my stuff is the kind of thing you'd listen to repeatedly, it is probably something to hear me reading it.

i told the musician, i was just going to crawl in my closet with a tape recorder, and he laughed.

i meet many musicians and artists, because i notice long hair. i always have. the longer the better in my book. and rare the man who can make a living with his colors draped down his back, if you know what i mean.

so, it's nice to still be meeting long hairs. i've always had a soft side for them. they remind me that i'm not alone in the world, others are trying to find their way as well.

that's all. i'm off today. workout. laundry. maybe let my daughter swim (but the water is freezing, i don't know if she can handle it, maybe she can). i still can't swim, next week hopefully, but not for sure.

peace. out.

hmm.

it will be nice having another month off school. i get so lazy though. and after last night's yoga, i was ravenously hungry. we did this bendy thing where you lay on the mat, lift your feet up in the air and pin your pelvic bone to the floor, then say you bend to the left, your right leg has to touch the floor, then you do the same thing on the other side, we did this several times, then we walked our arms back while reaching our feet to the floor which results in sitting in an upright positon facing the opposite direction.

this is all wonderful for belly dancing. getting up off the floor is important. if i can stop grabbing my knees and groaning as i get up (not always, just sometimes), it will be well. the geriatric dancer, they'll call me. but no, i keep trying to do these kinds of deep squats and such to stay flexible.

today is cooler and the breeze is actively clearing out the stagnant air conditioner air, and that just makes me happy. i had gotten concerned about the farm because i hadn't heard from my girl's instructor, but i ended up phoning her yesterday, and she had arranged for a lesson for my girl today (that was the plan, i just didn't know it was actually a go). and since, early in the week i had a dream that we weren't doing saturdays, i let my girl know. perpare yourself for the eventuality.

so i asked her while i had her on the horn,

do you need us for saturday?

yes. please.

of course, no problem.

we are glad to do it. and i'm relieved to do it. it is an essential link for my girl. and since there was riding camp last week, i didn't get to go laze about the farm all day on tuesday. i was busy busy. i hope we can get back to that slower pace and find our way back to the rhythm we had established with the horses.

i am getting nickered at by them when i walk in, and the big thoroughbred uses me as a scratching post, rubbing her giant head along my body, while i scratch her itchy spots between her ears. she's a gorgeous horse. i have never seen anything so beautiful as her. she's young and strong. a bit of a handful, but so captivating.

and bucky, i stayed away from because i didn't want to get anyone angry. but i hope to see him saturday. it's been weeks since i visited him for a length of time. mostly, i just blow him a kiss from afar.

i say my girl is not ready to not go to that farm, but sometimes, i fear it is me who is not ready. i have a lot to learn yet. and hopefully, we'll have many more months and years with these horses.

peace. out.

remember the foam

i sank into the pool with my fresh tattoo sticking out of the water, i had to, it was hot. and i sat in the breeze under a tree with my new york friend. it was a lovely afternoon, and my daughter got shuttled away to spend time with her daughter and we just hope they won't have hormonal breakdowns simulatneously, or that they won't happen in the middle of the night. because i'm not going to drive that far for a meltdown. i told my kid,

if you want to come home, you're just going to have to deal with it.

okay.

she said. eager to go.

she doesn't breakdown, or usually want to come home, but this is the first time at this new friend's house for an overnight, so who knows.

it was one of those, everyone seems to have missed their bus or is running to catch their train days. i have a poem that started brewing when i offered this man a ride today.

i'm a sucker for the man racing to catch a bus, the way his arms fly up in defeat as the bus pulls away.

i pulled up to this particular man, greying hair, a plaid taupe jacket, black messenger bag.

i can give you a ride to the next bus stop if you'd like.

and he hops in, my car is full of crap (always), so he just steps on it all, an i apologize for the clutter.

but i get stuck at the red light before i've even left the curb.

you're not going to make it.

he says. then exits the car.

i wasn't on a particularly tight schedule and would have taken him to the next or next bus stop (the bus system is pretty unforgiving). but he didn't want my help ultimately. so i drove on. went to work out.

my friend sat across from me when the topic came back to poetry (sorry kids, it's a major theme in my life), and said,

you are courageous for writing what you do. i spent my life not talking about those things. and there it is, in black and white, you said it all. the book is intense.

she wanted to warn me off of writing that way, but then i explained to her,

it is what i do. i do it because i can. i do it for those who cannot.

and then she carried away my child for an evening of fun, and i was going to study, but now i don't have to.

huzzah!

my element

fish have water, birds have thermal updrafts, i have open mics.

last night, i read to my poet friends, whom i am enjoying more and more as time goes by. the one who races through his poems, and i'm always saying, slow down! the one who reads with grace and ease, but when he takes the mike he seems tenative. there is something about a mic and podium.

hearing your own words projected like that. there is no hiding.

and making eye contact is hard, but worthwhile. it is essential, i think.

reading with your head down, eyes riveted to the page, does not futher your point, deliver your message, though i've seen many poets do it, the big ones, don't. simple as that.

i need to get my dodge tickets.

and the heat has come again.

humid, oppressive heat. and i still opened all the windows because i need to see out. i need to hear the birds.

a poem i wrote, which i maybe shouldn't have read aloud, because someone said it had a part that didn't necessarily belong, well, i read it anyway, and i knew it belonged. i could hear the poem in my mind. i knew the poem would fly. and it flew.

it lifted off and circled the room, dancing in midair.

and i grasped the podium at one point, leaned in, and read.

it was a good time. and we need to workshop these performances, because it matters what you choose. the stories you tell. it matters to the listeners. it matters to you.

if a poem is significant enough, if you feel it through your bones. if you vibrate with every syllable of it, then it will fly. (provided you don't screw up the delivery, rare is the poem that can survive the quavering voice, the downcast head, the rushing through of nervousness).

but when you stand there, in the moment, in the presence of your poem. and you read with your true voice. make the sound you make, large and loud. it will fly, it always does.

the audience responds to that presence.

and it was strange because the lady who organized the read and was the feature, had such a monotone voice, not a bad monotone. not the droning white noise of a spinning fan, but a happy, almost too soft kind of vocalization, that is the only way i can describe it--happy--because that is how she strikes me. and good for her, but happy doesn't make for a good read.

there's more to it than there seems to be. and we are in agreement, that we need to workshop reading our poems. and keep having these library readings, even if only we attend, so we can get better and stronger.


peace. out.

being wanted

it felt good, tonight. all seven hours of it. not once did i wish i were someplace else, time flew by, which meant to me, that i was engaged the whole time.

my new job is the bomb. i am grateful for the trust of new managers who seem to be more healthy than dysfunctional, which is important.

i was trained by a wonderful girl tonight, one with no agenda, just loves her job and loves meeting and helping others who love their job. it's a great environment.

and i got lost coming home, but fortunately for me, my best friend from seattle called just when i got lost so i wasn't alone in the dark. everything looks different in the dark on those windy country roads, so i missed my last turn, and ended up one or two onramps south of where i'd intended, but it worked out just fine.

i'll get the hang of it soon.

and i didn't even get a ticket. my plan was to walk the streets when i got there early to figure out where to park. i did good, parking in a four hour spot, then moving my car on my lunch break to a spot where the time limit ended at 6pm. i ended up right across the street from my store, and the girls risk getting parking tickets so they can park right outside the store, but i'm not that lucky with ye olde traffik cops. (or parking cops, as the case may be), so i'm happy to have to walk just across the street. though tonight i almost got mowed over, i've just got to have my wits about me.

all told, i was home by 11:45, and that's not so bad. i can live with it.

to work someplace, to be someplace, to find someplace where you're welcome, wanted, and anticipated. that is what i've needed. i hated my previous job because everyone was petty. here, there are more mature people in management. i got the lowdown from the departing store manager (who leaves in about a week and a half for seattle).

the new mgr is a guy who looks like an elf. he seems nice enough.

the place could use some help, but they have an industrial dishwasher, so i won't have dishpan hands anymore. huzzah!

that was the hardest part, i think, always having my hands in that hot dishwater, i kept overheating.

but not so much tonight.

so the first thing they do when i arrive is hand me a key to the safe, give me digits, and i'll get my store key friday when the departing shift leaves.

trust. welcome. warmth.

the commute is worth it all.
i'm so relieved.

peace.
and i mean it.

hurry up and slow down

so i'm up at two am, doing dishes (what else is there to do at two am, really, unless you're a doctor).

my bunny was up to no good at that hour, so i let him out to hop around, he seemed to enjoy this time to stretch his springy legs. he took his agression out on a rather imposing looking shopping bag, which made tons of noise. i kept expecting my husband to walk in with a shotgun.

and the thought of an aggressive bunny made me laugh. it's my limited vocabulary that makes him aggressive, not his nature. i'll have to think on this a while yet before i can articulate what i'm trying to say.

so i finish the dishes, and pop bunny back in his cage, and i check my cyberclass ust in case it's up and running, as it wasn't at midnight. 2am, it's on. and i'm stoked. spent about an hour reading the preliminary materials, and since this is technically a science class, the prof's writing is amazing. meaty, wonderful. he will challenge me for sure.

i ordered my texts online, which is why i've been raring to go, we can't even get that process started which seems foolish (to withold titles until the actual day class begins). my school said i could check their website but the address is no longer functional. i don't know that they check their materials much, but it's nice, when leaving for a holiday weekend, to send someone bum information. this instills confidence, especially if you represent a learning institute.

but then again, maybe it's not the institute that is to blame. you're only as strong as your employees, and i know enough about that to know, not a whole lot of people out there are wanting to outshine their job descriptions.

so there are only two of us in the class. and this is fine by me, except that it will mean more waiting. (and oh, how i love to wait)

i post my intro at 3am then go to bed, fully expecting to wake up to something, some glimmer of response, some post by someone who is as fired up about this class as i am. but maybe that is unfair. i have a lot more reasons to be fired up. and that also may be unfair to say i have more reasons, but the long and the short of it is, i'm raring to go. and it looks like, i'm just going to the gym now. maybe in a few hours someone will be saying something in my class.

peace. out.