Goodbye MC

Dear Dozer,


I hope that this note finds you well and in good spirits. Please understand, my reason for writing you is only to inform you that by the end of the day today (March, 21, 2012) our very dear little bundle of joy, our sweet and loveable "Mojo Chicken", will have a new home, and likely a new name. I'm well aware of the fact that this news may come of no real consequence or interest to you, but nonetheless I felt it was necessary to share with you the information that our once prized 32 GB iPod would now be in the hands of another. I remember how your eyes shown like a light through the fog when first they gazed upon its' blackness. The possibilities!! The mixes!!! The applications!! Running! Driving! DOZING!!!!!

While you moved on quite some time ago to a new and improved model, I have not. "MC" and I have had a faint, but loving relationship, as it has been hard for me to hear or delete your playlists. This has been no fault of MC's, and I realize now that to continue to keep the mojo locked away like Rapunzel is unfair to such a thing so deserving of the love and compassion it once enjoyed. Know that I have agreed to give MC freely, willingly, and without regret, for I believe the new home to be one of "sound" quality. I had considered altering the contents: to delete "Maine Coast", or "Mellowness", or other playlists too painful to mention. However I realized those iconic, timeless pieces of history are far too priceless to be missed by others who might have otherwise had the opportunity to hear them and have their lives forever changed for the better, as I once believed my own to be when first gazed upon by your eyes like a light in the fog.

But I digress. And as I do the time I have left with that which we both so loved becomes shorter and shorter, and I still have "Galileo", "The little ass birds", and "Moses" to deal with. I'll try but am not hopeful that I will get through Tracy Chapman. BNL and Van are completely out of the question.

Be well, Barb.
J

Fading away

There's nothing that can be

what we are

what we were.

The petals are falling off

the roses beside our stone

and they'll plant no more.

Everywhere I turn

a necropolis of memories

burns even the fire station.

Of course I hate you

how couldn't I,

I unceasingly refrain to heal.

I want to absolve you 

entirely for the anger

weighs more than the longing.

But weak as the thread 

may be that draws me close

the lion's pride is enduring

beyond what hope I have

of your phone call.

You betrayed me

beyond what any other

could fathom to achieve.

And yet...it's the song 

of my name running cross

your lips I cry for.

I want to be done,

to have what was

or could be.

Sadly, 

when typhlotic no more

and struck with the 

corpulent despondency

of which I suffer now,

you'll find me not

still waiting for your train,

but in the proximity of one

I trow truly loves me. 

The chain is on my door.

I hope the honey
stings you
through your sweet lips.

I pray the corset fits
to steal your breath
from within your chest.

I beg of life
to crack like thunder
my face with each kiss.

I wish for justices
that punish every dream
see me touch another.

I owe you nothing
of kindness for you
there is no more.

My own perfect world.

What happened to the clouds

I watched through the van,

strawberries tumbling up 

my straw on a blanket.

What ever came of 

putting me in a box

instead of on a shelf?

Why do I feel colder now

than in a Ponderosa freezer

when I of all people

despise the heat?

Did I not say that this was

not what I wanted to happen?

Were you listening to me then?

Are you now?

Is your Tom-Tom telling you

to take a different route

to avoid a hazardous zone?

I'm not good.

I get scared.

I panic.

I don't know

much.

Perhaps someday I'll be better-

good enough for you-

for everyone.

Maybe

in my own

perfect world.

Homemade Lemon Pie

I love lemon
but only when I know
it's something sour
I'm getting into.
When I want an apple
and instead the bitterness
tricks me and worms itself
into my mouth
I am not amused.

For far too long
I was the lemon's fool-
begging for sweetness
and getting only puckered.
I am ashamed
and disgusted
not with the thing that is
being only what it knows
to be
but for how I allowed myself
to carry on
foolishly
like a daily beaten dog.

I was not your mistake,
lemon,
you were mine.
I tried everything;
baking you,
drinking you,
crushing you,
but my kitchen
was never home to you.

So now
all there's left to do
is be done with you.

I sit in my shade
enjoying my nectarine,
how sweet it is.

Me too

The man in my speakers
said it's been nearly ten years
since you were
kidnapped by angels and wisked
to heaven before playing
"I miss you".

Has it really been that long,
Aaliyah?
I don't wanna let you know
either.

I understand their grief,
those you left.
I too feel robbed
of things departed-
lurking in the shadows-
once having claimed it
was all they had.

What have I now
to hold onto of yours?
Thank God I don't know.
It would kill me to know
how often you watch
and read my thoughts
as freely as I once
was able to read yours
when I looked at you
and said

"Me too..."

The fisherman's riddle

I sit here
on the shore
wishing I had
a boat
so that I could
go anywhere
and fish the shore.