Symphony in Jealous 'E'

 The lilt of the piano’s song sets my heart aflame,
swelling it with such joy and pleasure as no lover
can dare to accomplish. My fingers stroke the air
before me as if it were those coveted ivories,
and for one brief moment, I am transported back in time.

To a world where dancing and beauty were as essential
as drawing a breath; where writing a letter
was an art form, and love making
was just as powerful for a man
as it was for a woman.

Oh to smell the verdant fields of England, where
Brandon and Dashwood fell in love and
Darcy and Bennet were married.

To feel the caress of Rochester’s lips on mine,
the flames of Thornfield igniting our passion
and lighting our way down the altar as one.

Curse this life for depriving me of my fantasy;
how dare it put me here
in this world of email and eHarmony?

The player stands, and the cover is closed.
With a crash, I am brought back to reality,
as the piano is pushed off the stage.

September 2012

“Disney to make new ‘Star Wars’ films”

These first few words were going to be
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
But I thought it best to put them off
Until a later time.

Have I been asleep too long?
Is today really April Fool’s Day?
Is it really necessary for everyone
To live happily ever after?

Somehow I can’t picture Luke Skywalker in a tiara
Or Leia as the next Disney princess;
Somehow I don’t think she’d be allowed
To wear the outfit that turned everyone on.

Has the Emperor really been asleep,
Waiting for his true love’s kiss?
Is Darth Vader going to float down
Out of the clouds holding an umbrella
And whistling while he whiles away
The hours killing Jedi?

Is Obi Wan going to kiss Yoda
And turn him into a handsome prince?
Are Leia and Han going to give birth
To a defiant redhead who kicks ass?

I can’t wait to see how this one’s going to play out.
All they have in the works right now
Are sequels and prequels; I think they’re burned out.

They’re promising another trilogy
With many more films to come;
One a year I think they said.
What day is the world supposed to end?

October 2012

The Good Old Days

Dedicated to Donald J. Hall and Anthony R.T. Hall

Can’t stop thinking about:
Cake, hot dogs and the Chili Peppers;
Parties that lasted through too-short weekends
And live on in our memories;
Dancing like fools in bars
Because none of us cared what we looked like –
We only cared about how the music
Moved us.

Can’t stop thinking about:
What it felt like to have a real family:
A brother and sister who loved me,
And a mother who actually cared;
That long car ride home
From a place I never
Should have left for in the first place.

Can’t stop thinking about:
Driving 90 miles an hour down the interstate
So we could fly even faster through rapids
That made our hearts pound
And our adrenaline rush.

Can’t stop thinking about
The good old days,
And how, without you,
They’re definitely done.

July 27, 2012

Depression

No matter what pill I take
Or how many shrinks I talk to,
Your voice still echoes in my head,
Drowning out everything else.
More potent than Ativan,
Stronger than Zoloft,
Your words have a 100%
Effectiveness rating, and a list
Of side effects a mile long.
Nausea, high blood pressure,
Obesity, rapid heart rate,
Depression, anxiety and fatigue
Just to name a few.
My self-confidence is lower
Than your standards,
But my list of accomplishments
Is longer than the dick
Of every man you’ve ever fucked combined.
You may think I sing like a dying chicken,
But I’ll always be a better parent than you.
You may be my Pandora’s Box,
I may be curious what’s going on
Inside that dark, depressing, psychotic
Mind of yours, but I’ll be damned
If I’ll pop off the lid and let you
Make me lose all my hope for humanity.

Morsels

I’ll never forget the night that grey-haired old woman
walked silently through my line, as if she had a secret she
couldn’t tell me, a secret the world would never understand.

I’ll never forget the Thanksgiving “feast” she

handed me four dollars for:
two packs of hot dogs and some pudding
 -- enough to feed her for a week.
It would have to; it was the last
four dollars she had.

I could hear in the words she didn’t speak that

she had no family, and I had to fight back
the tears that came to my eyes.

She took the change from my unsuspecting hand

and replaced it with some Hershey’s kisses
and sandwich cookies. She walked away
as silently as she had come, and without
a word spoken, I heard, plain as day:

“Even if you don’t have much, cherish every morsel.”

I’d never tasted something so sweet.

Something to Be Thankful For

It’s easy to forget that some people have no one --
no grandchildren to spoil,
no spouse to hold them close at night,
no siblings to argue with,
or to laugh at their bad jokes --
it’s easy to forget,
until a meek little white-haired old woman
walks through your line and changes your life.

You wouldn’t guess she’s anything special,

or very interesting at all just by looking at her,
but she speaks volumes without saying a word.

Quietly, she places her “feast” on the belt,

and you scan each item one by one:
two packs of hot dogs
one four-pack of pudding.
 -- Thanksgiving dinner for one.

She counts out the last four one dollar bills she has,

and places them in your hand, your mechanical fingers
count back her change. She takes it with a knowing look
and without warning replaces it with three
Hershey’s kisses and a pack of Oreos.
This is the stuff holidays are made of.

                             -- Never forget it.

Vericose Veins

Even with my legs unshaved
and pale white as a snowball in July,
I’ll still throw on a pair of shorts
And lounge outside on a
sunny summer’s day.
But you, at over twice my age
with your varicose veins,
stay stubbornly inside
whiling away the hours
basking in the air conditioning.

By my teen years I’ve given up;
the blistered, sun-burned skin is
too much to bear anymore
and I embrace the waste of electricity.
I bathe in it like the soothing waters
of Bath, unwilling to pull myself away,
finding it irresistible and essential,
waiting for the varicose veins
to creep up on me just like you.

Fairy Tale, Corrupted

Shuddering shallow breaths swelled an empty chest,

body curled up on the nest that would soon become a tomb.
I prepared myself for the worst: the boyish grin that did its best,
but I was determined to hold my own against him,
determined to be the stronger of the two.

One by one the old wooden stairs croaked out

in their splintery voices "Here he comes."
My stomach ached, the breath stuck in my throat,
then it was done. He was there.
I should've stayed determined, should've kept
saying no, but that evil little voice in my head
kept telling me what I didn't want to hear.
I could not deny him. I loved him more than ever.

My conscience screamed, drowned out by

my own guttural noises, issuing forth from
the animal buried deep inside me,
finally being set free. My conscience
tried to justify it; reached out to him
for reassurance, but there was none.
Just open air where my heart had been.
The Amazon woman I'd wanted to be
laid curled up, bleeding in a ball
in the corner, weeping
because she hadn't been strong enough.