A pair of Shoes

Big ass, thigh high, black leather boots. I feel so alive as I slip them on, caressing each silver buckle as a past lover. The two inch thick rubber soles are perfect for clubbing, allowing me to dance the night away in style. Speaking of style, my precious boots have a look that is only good on jet black hotrods and my fabulous shit kickers. Gorgeous bright red flames. The flames rise from my sole and flicker in the dance floor strobe lights. While wearing my boots, and the right slinky little number, I rule the dance floor. It is my domain, until I stomp off in my big ass, thigh high, black leather boots.

House

I’m burnt out. I’m sick of this shit. One more week and I’m going to kill myself. Anything would be better than going there week after week. Anything at all.

I don’t know what’s worse; going there week after week or keeping it from everybody. It’s just way to much fucking work to come up with a story and making sure that it sticks. I can only say that I’m staying late at work so many times before people get suspicious.

I swear to god, if I have to go to that god forsaken house one more time I’m going to kill someone. You hear that mother? Next week it’s either you or me.

Someone Smoked a Joint

Mike nudged the body with his shoe, “What do we got here boys?”

A young lieutenant, still fresh faced and out of the academy, read out of his note book. “Frank Ferriday, age 36, gunshot wound to the head. There was a Colt .45 in his hand when we got here. The boys downtown are already checking on its registration. No signs of a struggle or forced entry. Looks to be a suicide.”

Shaking his head in disbelief Mike asked, “When did you get the call?”

“At 8:35pm, about an hour ago. Mrs. Stablinsky reported hearing a gun shot. Sergeant Powell was on a beat a few blocks away from here, he’s reporting his statement now.”

“This was no suicide,” Mike said as he bent down to pick something up.

“Excuse me sir?”

“I know Frank; we shared a foxhole in the war. He would have givin his life to save mine and I would have done the same. Maybe he has hit some hard times., but he would never give in to drugs again. I helped him through rehab, dragged him kicking and screaming. Once he was clean he swore that he would never go back. Frank has never gone back on his word.”

Mike opened his hand to show the lieutenant a small roll of white paper that was burnt on one end. “Someone smoked a joint here. That someone killed Frank Ferriday. When I find out who that someone is they will wish that they never took up drugs. They will wish that they never met Frank. They will wish that Frank never met me. Even if it’s the last thing I ever do, I will get vengeance on Frank’s killer. My buddy’s killer.

Pilot

The sky was black
Pinpricks of light shone through
Wispy clouds drifted by
Red carpet of automobile tail lights
Led to the brightly lit capitol
The craft banked left
As the city sparkled by
No greater feeling was had
Then when I was at the controls

The Silence

Is there anything as beautiful
As the absence of sound
Stand in the middle of a field
Watch heavy snow fall
And muffle all sounds of silence
Its deafening bliss
Under the right circumstances
Bringing a tear to my eye
And a smile to my lips

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