Miss Tennis

Let's play
Just you and I miss
Serve your eyes across the net
I'll send mine back softly
Floating,
When these racquets sway
A court glossy green
Buoyant ball, seldom far
Not hit too hard
Points scored
Tie us
Here we go,
'Love' serving 'Love'

How Am I Not Myself?

When something like this happens
I'm inherently a small boy with a hairy chest
Alarmed and unsure, I lash out (subliminally & subversively)
To protect from schoolyard bullies
(Except I already have one of my own, he's nine)
But in a way, I don't really mean it

Sometimes I feel a little left out
Because these people are just a little weird
(It's definitely not me, they have a tribal mentality)
I pretend like I don't care and
Have a silent gavel to stow it
Action from apathy, I just get up and leave

Somewhere, it is distant, from my past
Well, it criss-crossed something else, and arose
I tried to hide, or at least change the subject
(It was just a little secret)
To save a shave of shame, I lied
(I don't like standing in corners)

Somewhat a conflict over conversation
Jabs and words were spread and stabbed
I think and say one, yet feel another
For some reason of which even I'm unaware,
Really I must stand my ground
(I got her back, now it's even, or am I behind?)

Drunken Airmanship

Take one exception
And just get up and go
Leave the terminal and
Further vacation
By just adding drinks
With crazy air take-offs
And mid-sky connecting flights
Fast to exotic sites
High above far away
Foes and daily draining woes
With shiny silky crystal sand
Start a new land

Personal 82

Hello
I want a man to love
Who is willing to share life
In its deepest reaches
Forms, in actions...fun, intimacy
Joys and concerns
I like to swim in pools
Canoe, boat, um...hike snowshoe and walk
Dance, discuss social issues...politics?
I like to problem solve
And am willing to learn...
Looking for a like-minded person
Who is rare and who has found it difficult...
So far, to find, the right
Personal

Someone Smoked a Joint

We partook in smoking a joint
Out the window said, 'what the point?'
He got excited, and wanted to have some fun
And loaded the chamber of that gun
People ran from here to there
Really, it was more than for us to bear
He had done these both, just right
Later, some would wonder how they left his sight

Dazzled and dizzied, things fell all around
Things stopped, and people here hit the ground
It bounced about, these scary screams
And was more than this and all it seems
For it could be crazy, and this, today
At least, he was not lazy
It was said it was smoke and mirrors
And better than many and all those beers

Really, it wasn't the joint at all--
He had just come from valley mall

A picture is worth 465 words ( Tijuana, baby!!!)

We had sipped plenty of margaritas, and walked plenty more miles in search of a hotel. We (my friend Justin and I) finally found one in Rosarito, Baja California, Mexico.

We had walked across the border and through Tijuana to a bus, and then commenced in taking it there. However, once in Rosarito it proved difficult in finding a hotel. We walked around curiously trying to make heads or tails of this new place, while wondering how many more times it would take us to learn that this is what happens when procrastination occurs. We must have walked 10-12 miles that day, and it was HOT. We were almost resigned to sleepin' on the beach, when we found one in our price range (it was spring break, so prices were way up, and we had to go off the beaten path to get away from cardboard cut-out spring breakers and higher prices). It was $40 U.S., with a $2 deposit (we thought that to be strangely disproportional, and odd enough even so). Then we got some beer and scoped out the beach and the surrounding streets. One of the biggest worries was the crazy dogs running around chaotically, as if gringos were not allowed. A couple times they swiped and got Justin's pant leg, but all was fine from that stand point, and most others now that I come to think about it.

Most the night we spent soaking up the sights and stopping at various bars. One in particular we had quite a few weak margaritas at, while resting our road-weary, stinky feet. We actually checked out the spring break area for awhile. It was pretty crazy, quite the party would be an understatement...G-Unit and Busta Rhymes were there performing somewhere amongst dancing bodies and ziggy swaggering lines. However, I couldn't help but think how something was screwed up, because across the street, people who didn't have a pot to piss in tried their best to sell Chicklets or homemade necklaces. Downtrodden, in some cases, was a compliment. It was fifty some dollars cover charge to get into these bars, and they were packed. Across the street, handicapped mothers and willful children pleaded for fifty cents. If I was so concerned why didn't I chew gum versus sipping margaritas?

On the way back we took in as much of the sights in Tijuana as we could. We were worn, as we were crossing a dry riverbed, we witnessed some of Tijuana's finest (coppers) throwing bottles and rocks at a homeless elderly man. Then they stole his bike and zoomed off just as I took this shot. The dog had been there when we went in. And it was there when we left. Most of us really do not know how good we got it.

Red & Blue

Red and Blue
hanging upon the wall
illuminating the seedy night below

why were red and blue chosen
above all others
was it passion
or just apathy

please tell me red
why you were selected
was it because you were full of fire
or that you fit in so well
with your red light district stigma
Satan and Communists
maybe because you were cheap
like a K-mart red light special

what about blue
why were you chosen
because you were cool like ice
keeping things level and contained
with the boys in blue
or was it simply because
red could not be seen without
the video game accomplice of blue

what ever the reason
which may never be known
it is sure to be a good one

I salute you
colored lights upon the wall
with every drink of beer
that I will have tonight

Ballad of the Right-Fielder

A sportscar goes pretty fast
And circulatory blood too
To arrive at a new ballpark
And find it's the same old field

Tarps were not yet put on
When it all came pouring down
For who's the ump in charge?
The whole thing's a muddy mess

But take to right-field
With the rest of your team
And wait for the ball
And a ubiquitous ump's call

So three were up
And three went back down
As these bases,
This game goes round and round

And after seven others had batted
A curious step to the plate
Tale told it was a mighty wield
Inches away, back to right-field

A Day in May

Above ground and green grass
A strong tall tree stood
Root kept it braced for yet another day
And branches stretched to meet wind's sway

The birds and squirrels played
Amongst leaves and sunny gleam
And with their nuts and berries it was heard
A boy and girl on a blanket just below

Then the squirrels and birds so stopped
And the strong tall tree still stood
On this bright day in early May
She said, "I'm sorry, I just don't feel that way."

Well Lit

Beneath sky and birds' sway, the many windows of the upper-class house let light in. In fact, the house was always well lit. Sandra was tired of the house and its command of her time to complete her daily duties. Between the meals and the perpetual mess the Smith kids left, she was losing herself. The bright white light sent downward through the windows served as to encapsulate her, or so it'd seemed. Lately, she just pulled the blinds in her room, lying in bed, trying to grasp on to some sort of semblance. There in the dark, Sandra found comfort from the yelling and crying. For in the dark came her dreams and a better past now gone.


She lived here, but had no stake or claim to ownership. Consequently, decisions obviously, were left to Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and sometimes, even the little Smiths. Material wasn't her thing anyhow. She had a few things. But they were small. A little notebook and some pictures would occupy most of her free time, maps and letters that never would be sent the rest of it. She would look at the maps of far away places, planning her many trips as her eyes traversed major mountain ranges and canyons. They had seen many miles, and they were now tired.

She looked over at the sink and its dirty white china stacked about the forks and cutting board. The dryer had stopped and it had gotten quieter, albeit the parrot in the adjacent family room. Another day's light pricked with her thoughts, as she sighed and made her way over to the dishes. At least the dish soap was quite effective. If she finished early she could write her brother a letter. However, she thought, what new would there really be to talk about…nothing new had really happened. She closed the window above the sink as she began the washing. At least nothing that could be described in a letter. Yep, sometimes she thought, a lot of things are better told in person. As she continued scrubbing, she thought how great it would've been if she could've done the same for her heart. Take it out and with the sponge, scrub the dirt away and wipe it clean. Sandra's beat most surely would've improved. Suffice it to say, after this it was the laundry, cleaning the squawking parrot's cage, and vacuuming. What sometimes kept her going was the notion of visiting her brother and getting out of there and away from these things.

One of these instances was last year when she'd visited her brother in his modest flat in the dry heat. Down the road was a place where three Elvae were not seen as abnormal. While there she picked up some ideas hearing them converse as they sat at a dimly-lit Vegas bar drinking whiskey and clutching their guitars. She had aimed her ear, just to hear, as she eyed people exchanging cash near the pool tables. It was as if she could see the smoke waft into the sound waves creating some kind of cohesive idea in her head. Maybe she had one too many.
“Can I get ya ‘nother miss?” asked the barkeep.
Sandra tipped the bottle, and the barkeep, listening contently still.
“In a few…sir,” replied Sandra.
Soon her brother had come out of the rest room and ordered her another drink, but she had gotten the general idea. They sat sipping the drinks with really not much to say to one another. Not that they didn’t have anything to say, but they would bear it at home away from the crowd. She had a picture of her brother in this bar, his half-smile front and center to that slight collage of a memory all around. He was really all she had. Sandra figured such the same in reverse. It served as a reminder, and as more than just one. She kept it on the mirror on top of her oak dresser, supplied by the Smiths.


Not that the Smiths had really done anything wrong at all. Or maybe that's how Mr. Smith saw it, because his wife surely didn't know. To Sandra, the birds and the feathers, yeah, they went together. She wouldn't take another trip into that room again with the staunch piercing light, the straps, and the video device. She did her best to block it from her mind. And it was just by accident, that the poster of the Nile was placed on her wall. However, things were coming to the surface, and it wasn't working anymore.

She had finished her chores and stood before the mirror and her picture. She lit a candle and watched the oncoming light battle the dark in her room. The family was sleeping, and it was starting to get late. She was ready to get out of this place, and had her bag already prepared for going. She blew out the candle and grabbed the rest of her things, including the matches and made her way downstairs. She scavenged the living room for any possible details she may have been leaving behind. Then Sandra looked at the photos on the wall, as if she’d potentially change her mind. She took one last look around which seemed to take her through a series of emotional aurora borealis as her face looked of a crossword puzzle.

As she went out the door taking a glance around, she knew first a bus to her brother's was in order. After that she really didn't know. The only sounds were but joints cracking on her petite-frame as Sandra set down her bag and the tin can. She then went back in and grabbed the parrot from its cage and let him fly off into the night. What a shame she thought to put a parrot like that in such a small cage, or any cage for that matter. She struck and dropped the match, and made her way down the front porch. It was her way of saying goodbye.
In fact, the house was always well lit.

We Met Once

We met once
On a chilly beach
On the ocean
It was a chance encounter
One in a million
But that was a long time ago
On an island
Two time zones that way
We may never see each other again
But we still chat…
And do

Back Door

It’s bar time, time to get out
I feel fine, I feel great.
Uneasily I stand and make for the door
Slowly, one foot, then the other
In the distance my car looms
Speaking to me, telling me,
“Don’t drive home, stay the night”
Heading the warning I approach.
The back roads are safe
A roar and a howl took me along
Racing for home like a kid after curfew
Trying to sneak in the back door
With a flick of a switch lights flashed on
Victoria was waiting, on the couch, by the door…

Empty Husk

On the corner of third and main
Her empty husk did lie
No thoughts, no feelings
Not even regret
Nothingness where pain should be
Naked to the world
Her skeleton exposed
Empty on the inside
With no shame

A Passive Afternoon in Aggressive Romance

Pat, 29, is at his home in the living room that he shares with his girlfriend, Hannah, 27. It is a modest townhouse, decorated of Hannah's sunflower themes. Even she wonders if she is overboard on the sunflower things, but it started out simple, and so to speak, bloomed. Damn, was she turning into her mother...the next level being antiques. On a day recently, the couple had these things to say...

Pat: “I have things that …Hannah?...I need to do get done today.”

Hannah: “Huh? Anyway, this new boss we got at work is a real…”

Pat: “Yo, sunflower, did you hear me? I said I got some stuff I gotta do today, hun hun”

Hannah: “…And I was totally minding my own business and he comes up and says…”

Pat: “Hannah! Did you hear me…?!”

Hannah: “Jesus…fine, I won’t talk at all…I mean half the damn time I feel I’m talking to the wall anyway!”

Pat: “Must I really listen to a sentence like that…I mean, ‘fine I won’t talk at all'…C’mon…again, I’m just saying I gotta go out for awhile…There’s no need for…just show me some sun, baby...”

Hannah: “I’m sorry…(as she walks over and wraps her rays around him her face is inches away from his) It’s just you worked all week and I worked all week and I thought we could just stay in…use the blender and drink some margaritas…watch a movie and be bums or buddies...both.”

Pat: “We can…It’s only Friday and I shouldn’t even be gone that long anyway, I mean I wish I could just stay in too, but for me that’s not in the cards today.”

Hannah: “Can’t we talk with the dealer…get a new hand? I’ll make it worth your while?”

Pat: "And just how will you do that missy kitty?"

Hannah: "The way you like it and then a good flick...um...and a little later the way I like it too."

Pat and Hannah have been together for going on three years, and Hannah is waiting for some kind of ring, while Pat wants to do just that, but is unsure of exactly how. Some would say Pat is your standard indecisive guy at a crossroads in his life cascading slowly towards thirty. Hannah, is none too subtle in dropping hints, and Pat is a pro at deflection, as he just talks then of animals. He has found that beyond socialization, every girl is hard-wired biologically for either animals or little, cute babies. He tells his friends and colleagues of his theory. Luckily for Pat, right now anyway, Hannah is an animal nut. His friends joke with him and try to debunk his theory by simply asking about all the "damn sunflower things."

Hannah: “So, what’s my big tall strong man gotta do with all that time? It must be pretty important if you you’re givin’ up (Exaggerated voice) precious time with sweet little me. I mean I ain’t just any old regular little princess, dear.”

Pat: “Yeah, I know.”

H: “Hey mister, what’s that supposed to mean?”

P: I don’t know, what did you mean?”

H: “I’m just flirting with you, I mean flirting can be an end in its self, don’t ya think? And if you’re back too late at least I got to have my teasin’ with ya…and you know I don’t have a bloated sense of myself like that…you know that.”

P: “Yeah I know…we’ve actually discussed…”

H: “Yeah, we both know where our respective self-esteems stand…you can be so, I don’t know, like what he said…that Teddy Roosevelt or someone like...”

P: “What? What in the hell does that mean?! Ted... ”

H: “Speak softly but carry a big stick, know what I mean, like he said…”

P: “Yeah I know…that’s…” ( smug smile).

H: “No, no, NO…That’s not what I mean; you can be so passive-aggressive, that’s what I mean, so man’s man with your whiskey and all that. I think you’re kind of swishy… I, darling do, what do ya think of that…huh?”

P: “Where the hell did you even come up with that…I mean…Teddy Roosevelt and..?!…as we get older I wish you would stop using those dime-store phrases. That can be so embarrassing when you throw one of those out…right… when we’re in public?”
H: “Ohhh…just settle….settle down, you haven't heard that before?”

P: “Woman you can be so silly…no, I guess not”

H: “I read it in that quotation book that came with the thesaurus and dictionary set. There are some good ones in there.”

P: “…And you can drive me so nuts…sometimes.”

H: “Do I?”

P: “Yes, miss…come here…”

H: “I hope that’s a good thing?”

P: “Depends.”

H: “On?”

P: “On…On? On the dealer!”

H: “Oh, stop it with that whole card thing…”

P: “Sure, if you stop bein’…Ahhhh, presidential.”

H: “Okay…I just hope you get home soon, putty puh-leez” (Whisper) “K…”

P: “So, is that your big stick then...right there...'putty puh-leez' "(mockingly).

H: “Pat…c'mon”

P: “Yeah..k...sorry?”

H: “What do you gotta do?”

Pat locks the door to his residence and walks down the hall, and then outside into the light. Pat drives off and parks at his friend Sam’s house. He gets out and goes in.

Pat: “So, hey, what’s up?”

Sam: “Took ya long enough, busy with that woman of yours?”

Pat: “No, not really…I mean you know how it is…I had to work and yeah, I spent some time with Hannah.”

Sam: “Yeah, I bet! I bet double I would puke if I heard you in your quiet tender moments…Puttin’ words that don’t belong with sugar and sweet and all that spazzy lingo jambo stuff.”

P: “The older ya get, the more you section yourself off. Sometimes it gets so smothering, but yet in a way, I need it, or I get comfortable with it…something. But, I can pretty much do what I want when I want.”

S: “Yeah…sure... that’s why you’re late…comfortable?”

P: “No, I told her from the very first date, I ain’t the type of guy that goes and gets all whooped up and back around…no, not me, not this guy.”

S: “Sure…enough… really your relationship is not much of a priority…, I just was waiting and I coulda picked up some damn cat food or something. Don’t worry about it; I’m just givin’ ya a little shit. It just seems sometimes you give me excuses vicariously through Hannah’s guilting of you…or at least you’ve talked ‘bout that before…last year after my birthday…”

P: “Well, what do you do with all your time?...And I do what I want when I want, Hannah's...”

S: “Yeah, Hannah's subtle...and all I have is all the time. What I don’t have is what to do with it. I date…but it’s easier to break dates than keep them and takes up less time, I guess you could say I like my time.”

P: “Maybe if you didn’t date all those younger girls, I mean what do you guys talk about? What do you have in common? I would pull my hair out.”

S: “You should think about pullin’ somethin’…”

P: “Like Playdoh in your hand, but…”

S: “…Else out…dude, you don’t get it…”

P: “How long can that…?”

S: “Don’t underestimate ‘em.”

P: “…amuse you?”

S: “Plenty…long enough…they need father figures…”

P: “I would like to think it’s the other way around…anyway, I’m sure there are pluses and minuses…and you’re not hurtin’ anyone.”

S: That’s right…They are the ones that always want to hang out.”

P: “And you say I'm the master of over-rationalization, yeah, um, where's the beer?”

S: “No, you're the excuse king...either it's money, or you're tired, or you...I don't know...I don't know, but it gets old, and sometimes I wonder why bother...maybe it's that hint of narcissism...

P: "Dude, no...I..."

S: "Oh, here we go, another one...anyway, whatever...are you still on that only smoke when you drink thing?"

P: “No, that didn’t really work out. I ended up drinking more just so I could smoke. For awhile there, I was becoming a big drinker. Just so I could smoke...that's...”

S: “Ludicrous…that was insane, I told you that was insane and would never work”

P: “No, I’m done with the cigarettes …for now.”

S: “Well, pour yourself a drink, and stay away from those damn things”

P: “You?”

S: “Yeah, but we should get going.”

P: “Yeah, we should…I told Hannah I wouldn’t be that long.”

I am Mentally Exhausted

work, school, school, work
leaves time for myself
always on the go
never a moment to think
mind always racing
no time for sleep
sleep is for the weak
been going strong for months
full day of work
full day of school
all in the same day

Now, here I am
With a spare free moment
Blank computer screen in front of me
Unable to write
I am mentally exhausted