Independence weekend

It was the most sparkling fireworks display I had ever seen. I leaned into him, breathing him, his smell of lake water and beer and sunscreen. The boat was gently rocking back and forth and I slid slightly on the vinyl seating. I felt really happy, and calm. 

"That was beautiful," I said. I kissed him on the cheek. 

"Yeah I told you so," he said, then turned to speak to the boat driver. 

--

All his friends, save few, were couples. There were a few of each: the married ones, the engaged ones, and the simply in-love ones. One of the married ones invited us out to her parent's lake house for the 4th of July. Apparently among them this was a tradition. A few days of drinking, swimming, sunning, and games. He hadn't invited me the year before, when we had only been together for about 4 months or so. But this year our relationship was a growing toddler so he called me up and told me we were going and to pack a swimsuit. 

It was the hottest summer in a long time and I had been stuck at the house for the bulk of it, so I was ecstatic to go. I liked the friends, the married ones and the engaged ones and the in-love ones too. And I wanted them to like me. 

He had a habit, since we first got together, of inviting me along with them and then abandoning me post haste. The first month or so that we were dating we went to a wedding, the married-couple-lake-house wedding in fact. I knew absolutely no one there, and barely knew him. Because he was a groomsmen we stayed for the weekend, and because he was a groomsmen he spent 80% of the time with the wedding party drinking whiskey, running through the rehearsal, and generally ignoring me. This left me to mingle with complete strangers for extended hours. When it was over I felt mixed. I felt he had used me as an accessory, "a date." But I was proud that I held my own- happy that I seemed to be getting back to that social person I once was. But I was angry that he didn't appreciate my effort- that I played so well the part of "a date." I considered calling it off and chalking it up to an awkward time. But on the way home we stopped for chicken sandwiches and he apologized and I made a mental note to give him another chance. 

It was impossible not to think of that wedding while we were making the drive up into the Georgia mountains on July 3rd. But that was over a year before and I had since spent time with the friends and really enjoyed their company. They were a silly group- always laughing and cutting up. They were smart and interesting and successful. And they were all in love. And they all had a plan, it seemed. 

The lake house was fantastic, hidden in the trees with a giant staircase descending down down down to the sprawling boat house, stocked with vodka and bud light and checkers. We spent the days playing beer pong until the heat and the liquor made our heads spin, choosing then to jump from the high ledge into the cool green water of the lake. At this point I was used to his distance and knew how to handle it. When I could tell he wasn't interested in me being around I would go help the girls bring down the sandwiches for lunch or float in the gossip circle in the water. 

When night fell on the 4th the mosquitoes and guests were buzzing. The wealthy residents of the lake community were really proud of their annual fireworks shows and poured huge money into the display. They could be seen up close and personal by taking a boat out to a central part of the lake, or people could go up to the top of the mountain in the clubhouse and watch the display from afar. The boat had something like 8 places. I asked him where we were going to watch the fireworks. 

"I think you should go in the boat," he said. "You haven't ever seen them before and that is the best place to be." 

"Are you going in the boat?" I asked. 

"No, I don't think so," he replied. "I have seen them before and there are others here who haven't so I would feel bad taking a place. I'll go up to the club with the others." 

"I'll go to the club too, then," I told him. "I want to be with you." 

"You should go in the boat," he repeated, clearly annoyed. "They are really good and I think you will want to see them there." I could tell he thought I was being needy, or annoying, or unreasonable. Of course he never actually said these things- never told me when something bothered him or made him upset. Instead he would just blink his eyes a little too slowly, breathe out in a heavy and labored way, and stay quiet much too long, as if he was measuring his responses much too intensely. 

I fed on his energy and tried to explain, my own frustration coming across in my tone. "I just want to watch them with you. I don't care where we watch them. Why does that make you mad?" I asked sharply. 

"I'm not angry," he said, of course. "Look, I'll go see who is all going in the boat." He disappeared, taking all his furrow and tepidness with him. And that was how all of our "fights" were- him, clearly annoyed, blocking me out. Me, sensing the stress, overcompensating by tense coaxing. The argument, in the end, of course not being about fireworks or boats or clubhouses. 

A bit later I was called for to go to the boat. Somehow he got both our names on the short list of seats. This annoyed me even more. I didn't want the others to think I was being difficult or spoiled and I was afraid he had told them that I wouldn't get on the boat without him. And that wasn't the case at all. I just wanted to be with him, no matter where. I wanted to watch the fireworks together and see the sparkles on his face and kiss and touch and be near. I climbed down into the little speed boat with several married ones and a few engaged ones. 

The dark air flying by the boat as we made our way to the area was cold and refreshing. We were surrounded by other boats dressed in colored lights and blasting stereos. The water slushed under all the motors. But when the display started the crowd went quiet and the water went still. Every few seconds a new ball of fire would shoot up into the sky and explode all over, raining below. It was beautiful. 

I kissed his cheek. "I told you so," he said. 

And as we made our way back to the house I closed my eyes and let the humid air hit my face and turn my nose red. 

All I wanted to do was watch the fireworks with you. 

All I wanted to do was experience life with you. 

until then

i wanted all of you and you took only my hip, thumb, and right eyelash
you were my summer and i was your long weekend
your silence spoke multitudes i filled with a song

people and puddles are both shallow, and sometimes not even there::
mirage/ mirror/ me too.
next time i'll be smarter.

to do

1. write more
2. write more letters
3. write more letters to faraway people
4. write more letters to faraway people to make them closer
5. be closer

break up redux

some things i have written about being broken-hearted in the past

the news

former major organ; or american love poem

bath water

understanding

eulogy to a failed relationship

i'm breaking your monopoly on my words/ breaking with a snap/ snap

california postscript

i'm sorry i'm not

off the mark

perspectives





(research? do i learn nothing?)

anymore

i am going to trust 
that the leaves will turn red
and the election will come and go--
i will try to trust that 
the mail will need checking and 
my hair will need washing
and the made for tv movies will be bad--
i trust that tea cups will pile up
and the pies will be baked, 
though you will not be here to try them. 
i trust the world will keep turning and turning and turning, 
though its hard to know what is real 
anymore. 

come to

a summer without words? what has this world come to... 

(i feel so far away from myself.) 


( i do have about 25 drafts. should work on those)



_(leave blank if non applicable)_

summer

over educated 
and under 
experienced
is the chorus to this 
comedy.


it is summer again
and this heat
will 
melt my brain like
plastic forks
on a
hot
stove-- 


where my education
will become a puddle on the
sidewalk, 
and can no longer be a burden! 

afternoon

We were wide on my bed midst a sea of dirty clothes and unorganized papers. I rubbed your head and said

One day we will think back to these days when we were unemployed and could have made love and miracles all day and wonder why didn't we?.

I know why-- because I'm morose and hazy. But you never seem to recall that part.

So we rolled over and made love so we wouldn't regret that afternoon.

miss miss

I miss reading poetry and writing poetry.

And I miss when my cat was a kitten.

Happy

I wish I knew you when I was happy
I wish you had gone to all the dinner parties, the movie nights, the brunches

I wish you had seen the sunset with me on the island
the pink pink pink sky over the tall skinny trees
I wish you had been there wish i had looked in your dark eyes then, too

I wish you had smoked on the porch on Calhoun
the New Orleans breeze chattering all around us and I would have made you a mojito too, love- I would have made anything for you too there

I wish you had strolled through the Paris streets with me
those days when I smiled at nothing and everything and nothing and just loved being loved and loved being alive, I wish you had been there love, I wish I had held your hand then too.

I wish I could have talked to you after my chinese students said goodbye with tears in their eyes and the sun on their backs, I wish I could have seen your face when I passed the tests that shrunk my brain. I wish you could have known me when I was happy

I wish you could have known me when I was happy
I am trying to be happy again, for you love.

Haikus about men I have slept with: set Ten

XXVII

I went out with him-

(and there you were, so mignon!)

I came home with you.              

VII

Your bach and bordeaux...

I was left with bruises on

my heart and body.                  

XXX

My “high school boyfriend”

But ten years later and much

more fun to sleep with              

dunno

WHERE did all the WORDS go?????????

The Charleston Hotel

We walked through the upset sidewalks of Charleston back to where we had parked the car in front of a large old southern house. My tummy was full of Cotes du Rhone and foie gras. The city wasn’t loud but it was vibrant, with girls in dresses and boys in collared shirts walking up and down the city streets, in and out of bars and restaurants- giggling, arguing, whispering loudly. Your hand felt so big in my hand, and in my flats I was petite beside your tall, lean frame.

At dinner you talked about being a little boy. Do you think you had a lonely childhood? I can imagine you as a little boy, running around the neighborhood, squishing ants and collecting crickets. We went to the same elementary school for one year, but you were a year below me. Do you think we passed in the halls?  I was 7 and you were 6. All I remember about that school is the sprawling cemetery across the grounds, with big, old tombstones engraved with Confederates and their wives. I wrote a story there about Batman that won an award and I read it out over the morning announcements. Did you like my Batman story? Did you pull the onion grass from the ground and stick it under other little girls’ noses?

We held hands as we strolled across the road under the Charleston streetlights. Your legs are long and I had to take quick little steps to keep up. The lights blurred a bit from the wine, and the breeze was cool on our faces. Back at the hotel I quickly got undressed and tossed myself in the huge, white bed. It wasn’t long before I was snoozing away even before taking advantage of a goodnight kiss.

I wonder what your first kiss was like. Did you laugh?

You said you had braces in high school. Were you embarrassed about them? I was. I didn’t smile in pictures for two years.  I don’t guess you were embarrassed. It is hard to see you embarrassed about much. Your face stays calm and easy, your gait and body lack tension and stress. Very, very cool. It is hard to read you most of the time. By comparison I am a disaster. I wear my heart on my sleeve and my emotions all over my face.

When we first got together I was terrified of you. It was the first time in my life I met a man who was kind and mature, caring and secure. It was the first time I met someone stable and open to loving and exploring. I wanted to run so far away from this. And sometimes I still do, almost a year later.

In the morning the sun streamed in through the semi open curtains and the “do not disturb” card lightly slapped against the back of the hotel door. You seemed really far away in the boat of a bed so I curled next to you and kissed your head and neck softly. It was still and calm, and I put my lips next to your ear and whispered “I love you.” It was the first time in ten years and dozens of beds I was sincere. You were still, cool, and silent for a minute. Then, “I love you too” you said, pulling your arms around me and pressing your cheek to my chest.

Maybe American boys aren’t so bad and maybe it is okay to need someone sometimes?

Haikus about men I have slept with: Set Nine

XIX

It was your birthday:

cheesecake, grass, my thighs and your

condo on St Charles  

               

XXIII

I went to your bed

Despite your girlfriend and

my disdain for you?  

               

XXVI

My Belleville sex-pot,

once I had you in my sights:

inevitable!       






(for more of this series, click here or the link on the sidebar)

12

i miss you my lil blog
i'll be back soon
i'm currently being stuffed in the meat grinder, where litigation sausage is made. 
i'll tell you all about it. 


luff xx lucie

grateful

Today I am grateful for you. For the meaning of love currency; it twists my forehead in your shoulder while we embrace-- also, darling, you hang excessively (for a long time). For the discretion [yours], 
your skin as leaves under
  my fingers 
and shovelled -- for the smooth of your ear. 


I am grateful for the calm, your balance, and as well and far beyond my spastic meanings.


 I am grateful for a beautiful mind (yours) and the beauty in your grin. You are the greatest thing that has reached this space in a lot of years and today I (grateful) am for you.

fort.

i want to build the biggest blanket fort in the world
(yet still only five feet long)
and crawl into imagination
with you.

i'll brew the tea if you  fluff the pillows
so they are as soft
as your kisses and hand;

i'll bring the covers, if you
dim the lights and say 'stay, stay if you can.'

lettuce be kind

He may have gone to Middle School with us in 6th grade, but the first time I met him was in 7th grade. He was hard to miss, even in our class of about 350 students. 


I want to make it clear that I was no fashionista in 1995. I was completely unaware of how to dress my (quickly) budding curves. I do remember wearing my fair share of homemade vests, preciously curated by my mother that often helpfully reflected the season. This is the result of having a mother who worked part time at the local fabric store. My pants consisted mostly of hand-me-down Gloria Vanderbilt jeans from my various aunts, and I do recall that little backpacks and loafers had come into style as a result of Clueless. However, despite my hardcore look, to be fashionable in my little middle school at that time you had to rock Tommy Hilfiger tshirts with designer jeans or anything from Abercrombie and Fitch. These duds were paired with white Nike tennis shoes over long white athletic socks. Clearly our town was the center of southern American fashion. 


Regardless it didn't much matter what he wore. In fact, I don't remember at all what he wore. It was probably the same as all the other boys- oversized tshirts and jeans. His name was Jeffrey and he was the most awkward looking person I had ever come across. He wasn't particularly tall, but he was very thin; his thinness was accented by his pale white skin. As he sat in his plastic chair with attached old desk boney knees poked out from under mesh athletic shorts, and boney elbows rested on the vandalized wood of the desktop. I won't say his last name here, but believe me that it was rife with potential for torturous teasing. 


Jeffrey was a little blond boy with constantly ruffled hair. He probably had a cute face but it was covered more than 3/4 of the way by thick, plastic glasses that would slide down his nose. The only part of his face left visible were two thin lips, and when he smiled he revealed a massive set of buck teeth. 


Looking back now it was almost too perfect of a stereotype. I know plenty of nerdy guys today, many of whom rock thick rim glasses and are proud of their anti-fashion stance. But 12 and completely unaware of how the outside world really sees you is when true geeks are born. This poor boy didn't stand a chance against middle school. When he spoke his voice was high and squeaky. He twitched and moved in his chair, constantly uncomfortable. I can only imagine how the boys treated him. I didn't make fun of him, but then again I didn't not make fun of him. 


But the real kicker to this story is when, one day, I don't know how, someone discovered Jeffrey's kryptonite: This boy was afraid of lettuce. 


Got that? This boy was afraid of lettuce. 


It is a mystery to me how someone figured this out, but once it was out the rest of the year became a battle of Jeffrey vs the lettuce wielders. They would pocket the shredded iceberg from the cafeteria and leave it on his chair, sprinkle it in his hair, or tuck it into his backpack. Each time Jeffrey would jump, shriek  and squeal. Sometimes he would shake. We would all laugh and the teacher would yell. Then it would be over, the battle won once again by the iceberg mafia. 


I don't remember seeing Jeffrey at all after that year. He may have finished middle school with us in 8th grade but he wasn't in any of my classes. He didn't go on to the high school where the majority of us were funneled, either. I assumed he had been taken out and home schooled. 


I don't know what got me thinking about Jeffrey. Maybe because my little cousin is in middle school now and his lanky body and metal filled mouth make me giggle. Maybe it is this new campaign that makes bullying the biggest buzzword. Maybe it was my brother's 30th birthday party last weekend that brought me face to face with some people I knew at that time and haven't seen in 10 or more years. But I started thinking about him, and wondering where he had ended up. 


The media tells us what happened to poor Jeffrey. Just look at any teen movie or young adult novel. If popular culture is to be believed Jeffrey has ended up in one of two places:

Jeffrey of 2011 could be a master of technological innovation, rolling in the dough and laughing at the rest of us in this sad economy. Of course he would still be wearing something ridiculous like a leisure suit, but it would be with irony and a firm 'fuck you' to whomever doesn't like it.
On the other hand, Jeffrey of 2011 could have decided, once puberty hit, that he didn't have to live that way anymore. He may have channeled all his anger at 12 year old boys and dentists and lettuce into the gym, where he pumped enough weight to double in size. Of course, this physique would make him irresistible to the ladies. 

The power of the internet can reveal all mysteries. So I typed in his name and let google do the magic. 


The first thing that I found was a facebook page, revealing that Jeffrey still lives near where we went to school. He got a masters in Information Systems at the local college. His picture shows a man with thinning blond hair, and yes, thick glasses. But he looked positively average. He was neither super geek millionaire nor body builder with a chip on his shoulder. It was pretty anti-climactic. I clicked back to the google search to just give one more glance and that is where I found it: a youtube video of Jeffrey added three months ago. 


I opened it to see the inside of an Applebees. Jeffrey strolls up to a microphone connected to a small machine. He is as he was in his facebook picture but we can see his large black Ke$ha t-shirt. He speaks briefly and I immediately hear that old voice from all those years ago. It is so high and peculiar, so difficult to place. He now has no front teeth. His arms still skinny, though now he has a round beer belly above his jeans. He then dives into a passionate rendition of Ke$ha's song "blow" for the captive beer guzzling, mozzarella stick nibbling audience. 

Go, go, go, go insane 

Go insane

Throw some glitter

Make it rain on him

Let me see them Hanes

Let me, let me see them Hanes

I cringed. Who would put this video up online ? I felt immediately like I was again the girl three seats over, seeing all this mockery and keeping my mouth shut. However, it wasn't the same. This video was posted by Jeffrey himself, from an account proudly stating his full real name. 


So I guess that is all that matters, right? So he's still a weirdo. But he's embracing it; it seems like he is getting along just fine. And that is all any of us can really do, right? 

blocked

You know how some people say they can only write when they are sad?
I'm the opposite of that. When I am sad I get a writer's block the size of Wisconsin.
Everything I have written lately is awful. I'm more inspired by blue skies than rain.

Disappointment

saddening situation, letdown
	bitter pill  ; /success.

100 watts

polka dots
to enter the new game
and vegas slots::
whiskey shots with the huguenots;

we're all harlots
wearing apricot
dresses and hats like
a hipster mascot;

suppose i overshot the cosmonaut,
but the summer is over just the same.

repeat repeat

i have short fingers
i have short, bitten nails,


i have wide wide hips and a white, bumpy tummy too. 


my breasts are too large and my eyes are too small,


and my arms are reminiscent of sausages.


But I will paint these nails periwinkle, and use the short fingers to write and to touch, and to love --
i will use my whole body to love, 
and to get love in return. And when i see it with my 


too-small blue eyes, i and only 
i will remember the map tattooed on my skin....

Help Wanted

Seeking highly qualified motivated individual

to work 80-100 hours per week

in a dark cave without access to sunlight or other people,

after 1 month free training!

must be willing to do heavy lifting, some travel (by foot), and sometimes pick up dry cleaning. 

JD or Masters only! 

This is an unpaid internship- only those shortlisted will be contacted. Don't call us. Good luck. 

home is where your heart was

I would like to keep my home in that happy place in my memory- I would like to remember riding my bike to the local library, jumping on the trampoline, walking through the church at high school graduation. It was good here, I swear- I do not even remember the heat or the heartache. I remember just ballet recitals and birthday parties, bike rides and card games, first kisses and kickball.

It is hard to romanticize your home when you are forced back. I do not want those fancy dreams to be tainted by the loss and loneliness I feel here now. I want to keep loving my home forever,

so I better get out of here fast.

haikus about men i have slept with, set eight

XV.

American boys

Want to add a lass, but French

boys share with leur pote.

XXV.

When I needed you

In my heart you were there, and

The playhouse sheets too.  

XXVIII.

Face like a dreamboat

And tall slender build- what a

Let down in the end!

all the evening through

we were supposed
to go see
the film at 
the big mall movie theater,
but your bed was so soft
and your
kisses so hard-
we stayed in your little studio apartment
all the evening through. 

impatience

I am waiting


for my life to begin


to meet my soulmate


for the ultimate inspiration


for that one phone call


for my heart to feel whole


for you to come and pick me up

are you on your way yet?

coming soon...

I have so many stories in my head and heart right now. I just need to write them. Thanks for being there for when I do :)

i miss this place

the personal is the political

My political career

starts 

now, 

shall I give or take? 

To be 28 and

made of modeling clay 

is a 

wonderful gift;

lets hope the 

hands are 

soft and kind. 

quiet

I would
like to
be very
quiet
 with someone. Very quiet.
To take
 a bath, to read
in bed, and to fall
 asleep
 wrapped together
 in a blanket
of quiet.

lessons learned

you can't

hurry

love

or 

risotto.

dress me up, dress me down

first we went to dinner and never stopped laughing.
i wore my blue sailor dress and red suede heels.

then we went to a picnic in the park, sipped champagne cocktails in the grass:
  i wore my blue plaid dress with my blue french kitten heels.

then we went to the movies and shared popcorn with our feet up, hedging bets on the plot;
I wore my white cotton dress and my nude pumps with embroidered flowers.

then we went bowling, how awful was I? and you said you like my hips and called me baby:
i wore my red polka dot skirt and black flats.

new series: faces and names

 Anyone who knows me knows that I love playing with identity. One of the ways I like to do this is by dressing up and playing with all my wigs. so I have decided I am going to write a little bio for each of my characters created from the various wigs in my collection. Little profiles for my multiple personalities. What do you think? Watch this space.


Ps I also added photo links to the various series I include in the blog, as well as the 2010 links for my favorite scribbles. Enjoy!

getting older

the days are

filled with

wedding dresses

and baby names, 

and yet

the cement at my feet

leaves me 

a worried observer. 

throw a gift at me: anything,

just make the world shake

a bit. 

i need a jackhammer

but will

settle for

a sewing needle, 

as long 

as my hands can move 

to free me. 

Everything to Everyone

To Whom It May Concern:

                I am interested in your open position for -------------------------------------. Early this year I left a position in a small international law firm in Paris; I have decided to move away from the legal field, as I believe something more policy-oriented suits me better. This job would allow me to channel all my -------------------------------- into something furthering an excellent organization. I hope you will consider me as a choice to join the ------------------------ team.

I love long hours of filing, extended coffee making, keeping up with inter office gossip, and chastising people for using the "reply all" button.  I am willing to move anywhere in the world, except maybe Kentucky or Russia. 

I feel like the work your organization is doing is of utmost importance in today's volatile world. I have always been passionate about -------------- and would love to make it a priority in my professional life. 

I am available any time for an interview. Seriously- any time. Call me, or text me, or we can skype. I'll meet you in Idaho if you want. Maybe not Kentucky though. I am willing to accept any level of pay.

Best Regards,

Lucie

new

a boy called and asked me on a date.
i will get a dress and
new gloves,
a little clutch with $5 and
lipstick from Max Factor.
Oh dear I hope my hair doesn't go flat
and the
begonias are not
wilted when he comes to pick me up.


my tummy tells me
that it will be fun

5 senses

he entered the house- immediately warm and cozy as soon as the scent of the rich, heavy sauce and dark red wine, breathing, hit his body

 she peeked her head around the doorway of the kitchen, and he could see a glimpse of gingerbread hair in big, soft curls brushing down to the nape of her neck and the straps of her satin red slip dress.

“hi” she said, her voice tonguing his ears. “be comfortable, it’s almost ready.”

ignoring-, he went into the kitchen and stood behind her, slowly kissing her-  salt and spice, all , starting at her neck down to the top of her hip,

where he ran one hand up her trembling thigh, the other hand tangled in her hair, pulling her to him,

where the only sense missing was good sense. 

only fools fall in love

The trouble with boys
 is that I go for the smart ones- 
and the smart ones
 tend to be the most socially stunted. 


The dumb ones are fun
 and you can take them 
anywhere.
 They adore you and love you and want to live in bed.


 I hope one day 
I meet a man 
who does not 
have to choose
 between intelligence and passion. 
A capacity for love can be as big as an intellect, and loving does not make you a fool. 

Then It Happened Even Worse.

So I was doing my spring cleaning and came across this letter randomly. It was written in 1997, when I was a freshman in high school.  I just had to share it. Incriminating names are stealthily hidden.


 A bit of background: Colin was my brother's best friend and was the first guy I ever kissed when I was 13. Z was my first boyfriend when I was 14. And, just to add, both of them barely got to first base. After the jump is the rest of the letter and I have rewritten it for you with some corrections. Enjoy! 

28

they say your soul
is reborn
every 7 years,
now so I have my fourth try.
I'll put
27 in an old
shoe box, and
stash it away in the closet...
Hello 28.
Hello soul.

My friend Mata

I had Mata Hari over for dinner-- that crazy Mata, who knows what she is going to say?

I said "Mata? What should I do next, huh?"

She replied, "If you wear too many rhinestones, they will kill you prompt. Pass the peas."

Oh that crazy Mata.

things i found in my closet

Marie Antoinette wig


empty vodka bottle


law school diploma


hookah


box of ballet shoes


prom dress

haikus about men i have slept with, set seven

XXIX.

In bed you were prime

But real life? Oh Lord please help;

At least you love you.

V.

I don’t regret much,

But taking your body was

way over the line.

XXIV.

You broke my heart

But I would do it over

To kiss you again. 

for more of this series, click here.

valentine

velvet bag
with
golden 
heart shaped
nipple tassels
and
assortment of
googly eyes. 

say nothing at all

Betsy met Nigel on the bay on the last day of the year. When she looked into his sea foam eyes she felt like a blanket was wrapped around her tight, trapping in the warmth, fuzzy sweet sanctuary. Nigel could not speak, and Betsy comforted him with hugs and apple pies. Her favorite times were the mornings, when Nigel’s hair was furiously frumpled, and his eyes heavy with sleep. She would kiss his face, his cheeks, his back, the curve of his shoulder, the base of his neck. “I adore you” she would say, and he would stay quiet. “If he could speak,” she thought to herself, “he would say the same.”

The bay started to go too dark, and Bets could not stay any longer. “I have to go back to Beaumont, Texas,” she thought. “But I will miss my Nigel with the sea foam eyes.” She found him and asked him to go to the bay with her for one last night before her escape away.

“No,” he said. “I don’t want to.”

Betsy went to the bay alone, and cried. And he never came to comfort her. She had not realized that he only uses his voice to hurt, and the pierce in her heart stung for years. 

the leaving dance

I am folding each
skirt,
each ribbon-
trying to make them fit
in a too-small bag.
Maybe packing should be something you do alone?


I've been having
nightmares-
always the same.
I am in school and about to graduate, but I did not do all that I was meant to do.
I am afraid I won't graduate. The whole dream is my fear of messing it up.
Sometimes in the dream I realize that I already finished school- several times-
but it doesn't take away the fear.


I walked down the river the other day
and the air was piercing cold on my bare arms. I did not wear a coat. I did not finish the class. I cannot fit the dresses and hats.


I'm trying to fold myself into a too-small world.


I hope this is the last time. I want every time to be the last time.


I'll miss you-- no lover has ever broken my heart so much as Paris.

it is decided

I will have a girl
named Babette
and a boy 
named Friday 
and I will make
roasted chicken
every 
week. 

truth

I am so 
unbelievably 
lucky,
because no matter
where I am 
in the
world, 
I meet the most
amazing 
people
to share love with. 


just a reminder. 

Belleville

Belleville is the Brooklyn of Paris,
and you can see how the air moves around people there. 
As I walked I only felt
the slightest brush of wind on my face-
as if to say
if you weren't here, no one would notice.


Everyone is a stranger in Belleville. 
The streets drag on like improv jazz-
sharp words and low dips
and swirls of mini tornados. 


One day I will find the man
for whom the wind dances,
and his heart will be swollen with sincerity. 
He will be generous with his love, his time, and his experiences...
and will convince the air to move for me. 

an apology

So I dreamt I crawled inside of her ear and sat there in the mushy mush, until I found what I had destroyed and twisted it all around, back to the way it used to be. I looked at my clipboard and put a check mark next to “shattered” and “damaged” and “ruined” and “spoiled”. It was bad. Bad news. Not an easy job.

Skipped over some things and went back to the good stuff, the really really good stuff. (I fluffed it up a little). I put-- I’m sorry-- band-aids all around and kissed it all better. It was good to be close to her.

And when I crawled out she hugged me and told me she loves me again. 

leave quickly and come home late

leave quickly and
come home late.
if you see Josephine let her know that her man was downtown with Clara Lee...
just sayin'
if it is on your way
can you pick up some kisses for me? 
assorted. sordid. sure did. 
now leave quickly 
and come home late
and call me if Josephine starts to cry. 

16

baby, my parents are out of town,
and my older sister bought us some wine coolers. 
i put on my finest strawberry lipstick and 
non-cotton undies for you...
come over and look at me awkwardly 
while i smile because i know what is 
going to happen--
and you do too, but you are
too shy to start...
we will kiss and pretend 
we are older than ourselves....
as if older people would
kiss violently over
fuzzy navel wine coolers on a cider porch. 

Tully Tuesday

Little Tully Tuesday 
was the silliest girl in town.
She stopped to slip her slippers on 
and take her body down
to the other side of the tracks where
she could see her dressing gown-
sewn by the sister of her paramour,
Mr. Wednesday Brown.

10 years too late

i'm really sorry i wasn't wise enough to learn how to fight with you 10 years ago

i couldn't appreciate you for who you are

or communicate with you properly

it feels like coming up for underwater, learning about yourself and life

i really think we should have a romantic trip to china the way it should have been, to see how it feels

i can only imagine us liking each other more than ever now

let's go this summer

let me take you

and treat you like a queen

bises

his kisses
are 
like
soul sushi--


and my whole
body
shivers at his
touch. 


if i had my way
i would build the
biggest blanket fort in the world-


and press
against him
forever. 

when you come:

1, rue hautefeuille
sonnez bonavito
code porte 3985
tout en haut- 6ieme etage
au bout
avec la carte postale. 

resolutions

wear more red lipstick.


breathe more. 


and stop biting my nails. 

a Christmas present to my readers

It is that time of year again. And, although I know my readership is limited, I want to thank each and every one of you for stopping by my blog to see my little scribbles. 


I am a huge fan of The Moth and This American Life, and they inspired me to record a story for you all, as a little token of my appreciation.  I want to start experimenting more with reading my pieces out loud. I would love any feedback you could offer. And sorry for the bad quality- my first time!


This is the story of the Johnson family: Ma, Pa, Emily, Clancy and Clyde. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you are feeling the love of the holiday season. 


PS I'll type up the written story tomorrow maybe- so you can read to your children all snug in their beds.