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Blinded

Blinded

By your sweet words
And sincere gestures

The movement of that tongue
In a warm place
Carving light
Into dimness

I do not see
The other face your wear
On the weekday

Or feel the same hands
You wife does
On the weeknights

I feel a release
Of strife
In each stroke

An exhale of relief
To finally be home

Your other home

I wonder if you wear other faces
How could you
I have the weekends
Could there be more
Maybe late evenings
Before our nights

An ignorant blind
To opened doors
A full belly
Hot bath water
Expensive purses
And diamonds

A wool cloth
Covers my sight
To those other faces

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Hot Sauce in Noodles

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She unwraps the plastic around the colorful cardboard container for dinner and pours a cup of water into the cup of Ramen Noodles. She then pops the cup of noodles into the microwave and sets the timer for three minutes to cook.

As she waits, she decides to dump the plastic and cardboard picture in the garbage but first
admires the bright colors of the orange for carrots, green for peas, murky yellow for juice, bright yellow for corn, and the white back splash for the picture.

She dumps the waist into the garbage and trollops over to the silver steel refrigerator and opens the door in search for the mouth burning hot sauce bottle across from the blue and white oval shaped mayonnaise jar.

The microwave begins to beep and she walks over, takes it out, and set’s it on the counter. She reaches in the drawer below her to grab one of her mother’s fine china forks she shouldn’t be using and takes her first taste of the Ramen Noodles.

It is still a bit uncooked, so she sets the microwave for one more minute and stands there with her
hand on her hip waiting. Before the microwave makes it to the last second, she opens and snatches it out.

She grabbed the hot sauce and china fork of the counter, and flops onto the couch in front of the
TV dumping the entire bottle of hot sauce in the noodles and begins chumming down like a fat kid.

As her mother pulls into the driveway from work eager to get home and start dinner, she exits her minivan and heads to the front door. As soon as she steps in the first words out her mouth are,

“yuck, what is that disgusting smell.”

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Let’s Stay Awake Together

 

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You hug the left
I hug the right
Meeting somewhere in the middle

You throw your leg
Over mine
I let you

My finger tips
Run the waves
Your hand
Stokes my thigh

Eyes close
And cricket sounds
Flutter the walls

We lay
In silence
Happy
To be awake
With closed
Eyes

Our night
Becomes morning
And our morning
Night

We awake
Lost in a sleep
That was never had

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Flying Convertible

Flying Convertible

Have you ever heard of a flying convertible?
Me neither
But it lives in my mind

It runs on the fumes
And wave lengths
Pulsing through
The sound system
Taking detours
To nearby planets

Cruising
The night sky
Without a single care
In the world

Because it exists
In its own world

Down below
The people look as ants
Racing about their important
Life
While it floats
Freely
Slowly
And sensually

Gracing
Our ever so bright solar system
With beauty and grace

I say again,

Have you ever heard of a flying convertible?
I have.

It lives in my mind.

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Who Should I Be

Who Should I Be

I put on my panties
One leg at a time
Ready to face the world

Though the world is not ready
To face me.

I truck out the door
With a painted smile
Cruising in Big Bertha

Closing the door
Not realizing I left myself
In the car

I walk in the room
Trying to be
Who
They told
Me to be

Being the change
social butterfly
with grace
and tact

That person I was told to be

Not that chill
Wassup version
Of myself

That sailor cursing girl
Tangled in intellect
With witty words
Of checking
The disrespectful
With a little respect

Calling out
The bitches
Who mistook
Their wife’s draw
For their own

Just because you left
The house wearing
Her panties,
Doesn’t mean
You have to let everyone know

The best version of myself
Is never enough

You make it against the law for me to be myself
When I walk in the room

Oh shit,
Did I just put
The Big V
Across my head

Oh well
It wouldn’t
Make a difference

I’m still searching myself
For the
True me

But when I’m thrown
In a herd different
Of my own
I’m always that person
Who broke
The camel’s back

I try to patch it
Even out
The broken hump

Why can’t I
Just be me

My wonderful me
Why can’t that ever be
Enough for you all.

FUCK who you think I outta be……..

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FLYING

    FLYING

I was flying last night

flying a 100 miles an hour
body draped in Valentine’s Day red

Racing lights and
white street dashes
melodies of Cleopatra
taking me to new heights

I was out of my body
and in someone else’s

Hair loose
hollow thoughts
lost in a moment
cruising the night sky
on imaginary lights

Breaking currents
Of electric white
Crushing the shore
in a moonlight glare

Laying
on the edge of a cliff
in a stare down
with the ocean floor

Body numb
taken a-breeze
by the night.