The Opening

At the end of the hall
A rectangle of light shone through the darkness
What could be contained on the other side
What could be so great
That it could shine on this side
Doors block the opening
Keeping light from dark and dark from light
It is so comfortable
On this darkened side
My home is here
But yet
The light calls out
Wanting me to join
All that is good and wholesome
I can’t go through
The door in the opening
Is my wall

Parallel Play

There she is
On the dance floor
Just a few feet from me
A smile on her face
Gleam in her eye
And grove in her step
All illuminated by the strobe lights

With my unique brand of funk
I slide into place next to her
Flashing a smile
When ever she looks my way

But alas my efforts go unnoticed
When the music dies away
She fades away into the crowd
And I am left alone

Lamp

Dark
Alone
Afraid
I reach for you

Reassuring glow
Together
Happy
I reach for you

Intense
Blinding
No escape
I reach for you

Dark
Alone
Afraid

Untitled

A blank canvas rests before me
Icy blue lines gaze out
The piercing cold delves deep
A thin red line banks the side
Aggressions that counter balances the hate
Thoughts and images fly on by
None seem to stick to the fly paper of my mind
The page stays blank
Like a field of wind driven snow
Beautiful in the absence of form or shape
But yet craving, needing, wanting
A disturbance in the white nothingness
A thirst that needs to be quenched
By paragraphs, sentences, phrases
Or even just a title

Meet Vivid Girl

There I was, sitting in a coffee shop in the “arts district.” The wooden chair that I sat upon was growing hard. I shifted how I was sitting so that one ass cheek didn’t fall asleep before the other could.

My third cup of coffee sat before me on the wood table. Steam drifted above the rim before dissipating. Dissipating into nothingness. That’s what’s happening here.

I turned a page in my Scribner Anthology as I waited. Reading and rereading each line of poetry. Ingesting the full meaning of every line, every word.

Holding the book straight up, making sure the cover can be seen, I flip the page again. Where can she be? That girl I was supposed to meet, Vivid_Girl.

This is the last time I’ll agree to meet someone off the internet.

Antics Swirl Around

Spin, spin, spin
I whirl and twirl
In the mosey meadow
Colors swirling around
Blue sky and white clouds
Green grass and grey stones
And my lemon-chiffon sundress
All whirling and twirling
As I spin through the field
Falling on my back
With my eyes closed
A smile crosses my lips
Before it is shattered
In a hail of giggles

Night Driving

What on earth possess you to repaint your old bedroom?” The grizzled man demanded as the black sedan screamed through the darkness.

“I don’t know… I always wanted my room to be blue…” The girl replied staring out of her window.

Jack took one last long drag off his smoke before flicking it out of the window. An exploding starburst was all that remained when the sparks hit the pavement. A starburst that quickly faded.

The car was silent. Jack calculated what their next move was. His mind took each piece of the jigsaw puzzle that was laid before him and tried to fit the pieces together. Each piece seemed to belong to a different puzzle.

Beth was staring up into the night sky. A look of bewildered awe on her face shone in her reflection off the car’s window. How could something like this happen to a girl like her? She was so innocent.

A twin pair of white orbs passed the sedan in the other lane, disappearing in a red glow of the tail lights in the rear view mirror.

Jack sighed then broke the silence. “I’m sorry for jumping down your throat. It’s just that I’m trying to figure out how to get you… us… out of this mess.”

The girl didn’t say anything and just kept starring out into the darkness. A single tear ran down her cheek; a tear, that to Jack, was a sign of gratitude. If nothing else he will get her out of this mess, or die trying.

The Light Switch Broke

My eyes were heavy with sleep as I stumbled through another day at work. My body was on autopilot, I no longer had any control over my actions. They days ran into weeks as my lack of sleep was mounting.

What caused this fall to a zombified state? I’m glad you asked. It’s kind of a funny story really. At least it would be if you were not me.

One night, only god knows how long ago, I reached for my light switch to turn off my lights for the evening, but nothing happened. I flipped the switch on and off, on and off; but the lights just wouldn’t go out.

I tried everything to get those lights to turn off, but nothing worked. It was like a divine curse, causing me to pay for all my sins, and all the sins of my past lives.

I pray to god that some day the lights in my house will go out. But until I am wrapped in the loving hands of darkness I am cursed to suffer in that ever illuminated hell.

Sad Clown

“What do you mean I can’t have my third cheeseburger?!?” the disheveled man yelled at the register-jockey.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t allow substitutions.” The young girl timidly replied. Her eyes darted across the restaurant, looking for help, looking for a way out. “I wish I could do it for you but this register won’t let me.”

The customer grabbed the clear plastic box of charity donations and flung it against the wall. It exploded on impact, spare change rained down in a clatter. “I want my god damn third cheeseburger!”

Practically in tears the girl gave in. She grabbed the cheeseburgers and thrust them at the customer, not even bothering to ring up the order. He grunted as he snatched the burgers out of her hands. On his way out of the restaurant he took out the last of his frustrations on the plastic clown mascot, leaving it knocked over in the bushes.

Round World

We ate Chinese

We ate Chinese
On that Christmas day
Mom was to tired to cook
Dad was to drunk to care
I had the sweet and sour shrimp
With an egg roll
We sat there in silence
In the empty restaurant
Mom and dad weren’t fighting
My sister wasn’t bitching
Inwardly I smiled
As I stabbed a battered shrimp with my chopstick
It may not seem like much
But I had just received the gift that I always wished for

Used Car

She was blue
Little
Fast
My four on the floor
Chariot of doom
With that fine European styling
That would make all other turn
Stare
And say
What a boxy piece of crap
But that little four banger could move
When prodded a bit
Prodded I did
Taking tight turns
Screaming down the highway
Hot rodding that car
Into oblivion
Enjoying the good times
And the bad
I miss her
My blue, little, fast
VW Fox

Bill Hicks and Your Heart

Standard Oil

I’ve been afraid of putting air in the tires ever since I saw a tractor tire blow up and throw Newt’s father over a Standard Oil sign. But here I was, the old station wagon had gotten a flat. I had changed the flat with a spare on the side of the highway in the blistering heat. The twins started bickering again once the car had started moving again. Adding to the cacophony of noise was my wife scolding me about taking better care of the car and the family. It was all my fault that our vacation was ruined before it even started.

Concentrating on the road ahead I tuned out my family and kept on driving. In the shimmering distance I could make out a gas station. Finally a break from it all! With a squeak the car came to a halt next to the air pump. The twins and my wife dashed into the air conditioned general store before I had the trunk open. I wheeled the tire to the pump and put the hose to it. Air rushed into its new rubberized home as I felt something ominous behind me. Slowly I turned to see a Standard Oil sign…

Seasonal Blahsphemy Syndrome (S-BS)

The Customer Service Referral Specialist transferred me to the Coordinating Member Representative's Transcontinental Telecommunication Device. I had planned and prepared well, and was ready for the Propositive Networking Conference Event, and what could spring. We were team positive rather than opponent negative, and he was Goal-Oriented and ran the Business Cooperative Association nicely. His Vocal Chord Output was Well-Versed Affirmitive Reinforcement, and the Customer Home Base Service Board Stock Holders thought this to be tres fabulous. So, I grabbed my Proficient Inking Device, and had a jolly go-go. The paper held up quite well as I took Educationally Informed, Knowledgeably Based jottings, as he spoke. Things were going positively-warm, like sunny summer. They should've, as the night before I had preprayed to the Spiritual Love Savior. However, fall fell. I spilled Mountain Grown Coffee Java all over my Executive Pro Plus Threads. Second-degree, with minor dermal damage it was. In doing so, I had Negatively-Affected his Positive Mantra Position with line and staff. We had a wintrily exchange of emotions like jagged ice. And then I was fired and burned as Support Staff Specialist Supervisor.