the lights went on

early this morning around five am i was driving home when i approached a small over pass to
my exit. as i looked to my right i could see a sea of school buses(hundreds) , i had noticed them before. as i prepared to take a second look all the lights on the buses turned on..it was surreal and beautiful truth be told it was magical...like a little gift to my eyes. nothing beautiful about big orange buses( never cared for the school bus i had a weak stomach).. i love when hard edges, industrial environments become beautifully soft.

charade

i swallow my words and feel the lump in my throat till my heart aches just to spare you from pain. i drive out of the way so that you will not be caught like a deer in the headlights. i bury my pride so that you can roar like a lion, a lying lion.

i sit in his chair and tell him i want you to hurt, why do i want you to hurt i ask. he responds by saying you don't, so i say i want him to feel and he says he is incapable of feeling..i say not good enough. I say i am tired of him, tired of talking about him. he tells me about all the women who sit in this chair who have a someone like you. that you are nothing special, have nothing to offer just in ability to take, he is mediocre at best, a charade of a man.

i say i don't want to talk about him, i ask, do i hate him, he says you are angry, i say i don't want to be angry he says you have the right to be..

brick

i stare at all the bricks they form a wall
it feels as if i have been working on it my whole
life. I am scared sometimes that it will never end.
and scared it will come to an end...no not really.
i take the needle that is the present put the thread that is
the future and i mend the tears from the past.
my heart only knew bursting with joy, never have i known this splitting
of the seems. never would i want to again.

i am scared today, a little for the wall cast a familiar shadow
yet i hear others talk about the sun. i start again brick soaked
with the moisture of my hand. which is the wall and which is the pile...

snow

You love it don't you
yes very much. what do you love about it
everything
like what
i like it is white and clean, i like how it is cold and fresh, how it's bright, the way my cheeks feel
i like the memories i associate with it
like what
you sure ask a lot of questions
like what
snow angels with my brother, six feet high walls, childhood igloos, skating on the lake, sledding with friends on new years, winter spent in vermont with dogs...
you are quiet did you not like my list
no i did
is there a but
well i did not give you any of these
why should you give me any, i am capable of it myself
well what i mean i am in none of the those
what, maybe not in this list your not but in the list there is me
the me that led me to you, that fell in love with you, besides are we moving to a tropical country
no why
then there will be many snow falls my love i promised you, come here
why cause i want to make a memory.......
that's cold yes..
but don't you love it
i love you in it...

white horse

he lifted my chin with his hand and said i have not seen you smile in months. I protested and said that is not true i am always smiling...you know what i mean. No, no i don't. then he asked if i would like to dance, but no one is dancing i said, when did you care i am not sure i answered, i am not sure. he walked away...

I wanted to tell him everything. how i had dreamt of a white horse and had let it drink every once of my passion, till it left me for dead. that i did'nt dream anymore.

i could hear his footsteps come towards me his hand on my chin again he lifts it till my eyes met his, i try to stare away but just then he says.. i am not without fault in this.. i want to say why did you let it happen, why did you not fight for me, but instead i say what i know to be true, you could not have stopped me for i had fallen so deep into my dream..that even within my dream i had dreamt..

left them

The other day while sitting in a cafe my husband pointed to a story in the newspaper and asked me if i had hear about it, i said no so he proceeded to begin within the first sentence i asked him to stop and even though we where in a public place i immediately started to cry. I was angry at him and asked him why he thought i would want to hear about that..

I used to listen to the news(never local), read the new york times and visit my independent media sites, i was on top of things- i had to be my clients expected it from me. But it has been at-least year now, that i barely have the stomach for anything but a comedy at the theater...

i am not naive about what is going on out there i do get informed. But nothing prepared me for the story that my husband had begun to tell and i have not been able to get it out of my mind, i t has profoundly altered my thoughts. as I stated before i had my husband stop telling me of the story just a second after he began, i do not know the ages, race, state.. in-fact nothing really except the following i must warn you i have decided to write this in my blog because of personal need..but you might not want to read the next paragraph or two.

On christmas day a father was driving his daughter and son to there mothers house in the bitter cold when his car got stuck in a snow drift. He told his kids that they should begin walking the ten miles remaining to there mothers house, the daughter or more so the way i play it in my head the sister died along the way and the brother was severely damaged. the father got out the snow drift and proceed to go back to his house when he received a call from the mother asking where the children were. that is the extent of what i know. I can not stop seeing the brother and sister walk this mountains highway stretch.. what was it like, what did they say to each other, did he try did she try.........
I tried to make peace with all of this, but what right do i have. I completely lost, i want to help them, hold them. i want keep them safe, hold there hand or perhaps lay with her and show her that she was not alone but she was, he was..........

i can not stop thinking about them....did she find something to hold onto in her mind..before her eyes closed...oh god who are you and why would you allow this...

he calls you love

she. has he always called you love

i. no just recently

she. if you do not mind me saying it, but there seems to be anger behind it

i. oh, i suppose there is

i. (is quiet)

she. i' am sorry have i upset you.

i. no, no i am glad of your honesty

i. (thinking) he asked me what i missed most of the affair
and i said "he used to call me love" perhaps it is his way of
working through it, i am glad for it, yes i think i am.. for now
every-time he says it i cringe and that will surely erase any longing to
hear it spoken by anyone......

she. but i have upset you

i. no not all, in fact i am glad of it, it has helped me
shall we go get something sweet...

violin

i sit and listen to the violin, one note sends me back in time
my whole body blushes. i turn my gaze to the ground trying
not to let my secret show. the power of its chord sends shivers
to all those places we lingered. I know now i do not need
to be loved but to love him perfectly.

the month i love

it is finally here a new beginning, or a new chapter, perhaps a new book. January is my favorite month, last year i wish january never came for i lost jacob january first. This is a new year, a new january and it has been wonderful so far.