With hope and wisps of future dreams
Planted with love, on stormy days planted with
Desperation.
4-13-19
My heart still throbbing.
At least I didn’t sleep with him
Yet, I still wake up thinking about him.
You don’t have herpes if you never had an outbreak.
Thank goodness I didn’t have miss of a condom –
There was no need for one.
Get tested for AIDS, HIV. What about the perfect
Love story? It’s not him. I miss writing to you.
9/15/14
Storm
It’s been storming night and night
In the pouring rain; I drove to my parents’
On the small, two lane highway streets
Of South Michigan at night. Fog was thick.
Later, my sister told me my brother
Shouted, “Victory or death!” over
And over again while they were driving
Through the pouring rain, as well.
My body later awoke me, with chattering
And shivering of my jaw, my body, legs, inside
Me. I was frozen. I got up and told my brother, knowing
I looked ghostly pale in the night mirror and it scared me.
This was June, not December. He said take aspirin and
Lorazepam he had begged me for earlier tonight to assuage his
Severe depression. He said put on a sweatshirt. I did, all of those.
Except give him my meds.
“My name is on the bottle,” I said. I go to my doctors and they give me
My meds. Why don’t you go to get meds from your doctor? I asked.
He said, “They won’t give me any, just Prozac. It’s worthless.”
“Maybe you’re not saying the right things.”
My sister inquired, “You have anxiety attacks?”
“I don’t have panic attacks,” I said, “Just when I can’t take it.”
“The anxiety,” she said. She gets it.
It’s clear.
6/22/14
True Loving Dreams
Men can die or leave.
The only forever while I’m alive
is me.
3/26/14
Hey, how about you
Jump right in? The
water’s Great!
Bet you more gold
than a canary that
you’ll love to wait
for the next bus
that leaves us here
at the lake.
3/8/14
I Want to be a Prostitute.
Does that make sense to you?
It makes perfect sense to me. My
Career would already be set. I’d
Have Customers wherever I went.
Allow myself the fantasy – but what
About the illegal findings?
And the men forging a rift between
Themselves and their Wives.
How would I drum up Clients
In the first place? Not in a market
Aisle, in the mid-day. And certainly
Not on the street corner Wearing
Fishnet tights.
But then, How would it come up, come
about in a conversation?
Hi. I’m flirting heavily With you, Allow
me to wink and tell you a thousand.
What?
A Thousand Dollars. Wink, Wink.
The most ridiculous think, I’ve thought today.
But what’s the best part about working –
Well, not WORKING, I wouldn’t want
To be WORKING as a prostitute. Only if it
was an attitude of added leisure, instead of
a Moneymaker for paying the kettle bills.
The Best part – no commitment. No man left
unpunished. And no little me bereft
With agony of abandonment. The Best part?
Maybe I’m not monogamous. Maybe I’m
Actually GOOD AT THIS! Does that frighten me?
A little bit. Men love to talk with me, and no, it’s
Not because of my cute face, and my lovely, curvy,
albeit some would say “thick”, beautiful body.
It’s because I can listen. It makes my life easier to
Listen to other people talk about themselves,
Or whatever else it is they wish to speak about.
It makes them feel better, and therefore,
By alliance, provides me with relief, above and
On top of the lightened pleasure of being
In one man’s line of sight for a few minutes.
Eyes, Eyes, Give me Eyes.
Fuck me on the side, too. You know how I like it.
Slap my face and make me squeal.
2/11/14
Why?
Why do you care
about me? What is it
you want? I hope you are
loving me, and not
needing a new cook, recruit
or damsel, miserable and desperate.
1/19/14
Putrid, ROTTING hatred.
How can I resist this hate again?
So easy to manipulate my pain to
rerotten the hate of my past.
So much complain and anguish
in small little so much empty pit
pots of nothingness oils, semisoiled
vials of rerotting greens and white molds.
1/18/14
New Year’s Resolution
Something special,
of special magnitude.
A person who you like
who can love you back.
1/1/14
Smell the gravy
Regardless of the bird
or beast, of which has
been butchered, bled out,
sliced open, and guts out.
I see the gravy; thick and
smooth, brown and good.
Savoring the meat’s softness
as it melts in your mouth,
the lust carryovers of the past,
in greedy ravaging on slow haste.
12/24/13
youngwomanstory 