October doors
are closing,
friendly apps
turned off.
November is beguiling.
My fingers curling
eager to be
keyboard warm.
NaNoWriMo looms
its challenge
fighting against
my PA plan.
Dangling
my internal
power cord,
a hypnotic STOP
watch shouts:
Time for me!
Warm drips melt
on my shoulders
falling down my arms
like dappled leaves
gently spilling sunshine.
Warmth can’t be cupped
cold and hard
like snowballs
forming a sheltering fort
to challenge you from.
Summer, you vixen,
my long distance love,
you have teased me again.
I ache for your taste,
your heat on my tongue.
Some called her weird
because she lived
a purple life,
dressing in various
shades of lavender,
wrapping herself
in velvet scarves
of color.
Wild Wisteria
Orchid Mist
Purple Rhapsody
Misty Violet
Passion’s Breeze
all sent her smiling
till irradiate wafts
of various purples
were painted on her walls,
interwoven into her fabrics,
filled her color plate
and plastered on her soul.
Yet, I couldn’t help
smiling when I saw her
wishing I held another chip
to toss onto her table
just for luck,
a gamble many would not take,
but – oh, the joy in playing.
Scraping
chunking
spewing
pumpkin guts
clinging, dripping
from your fingernails
flinging them onto yesterday’s
news.
Wrapping it up
silver kissing style
twisting the story
tossing into the trash
your hand strangling
the paperboy’s
efforts.
Sitting at home
with your money
living in his pocket
he is scraping
cheese
from under
his tired toenails
flinging them onto yesterday’s
news.
——————————————
Taken with a gasp,
our severing is swift,
even though my mother,
and I in my enlightenment,
saw the darkness coming.
——————————————
At first I jump.
‘Don’t step on the crack,’
but anger builds till my feet rejoice
in a double-footed cementing
breaking of my mother’s back.
——————————————
Then faith must carry us,
each to our own square
till we slowly stand alone
and set our worlds upright
allowing our breath to escape again.
——————————————
Then, head up, I walk
ignoring the cracks
down my own twisted path,
leaving my mother
perplexed at my pace.
——————————————
There is a dustiness,
an orange
lingering stain
that bites
into our cuddle
on the couch.
Your orangeness
threatens
to separate
our elbows
onto opposing
armrests.
I love you.
Just don’t kiss me
with those Cheetos lips.
Poke or post
her FB friends
were rising high,
and she felt liked.
Until her life
took a downward turn,
her comments cried
while typing.
Then the curving arms
of a cyber-hug
never truly warmed
her shoulders.
My last evening energy,
wasted on wishing
for your cryptic call.
But melodic music
drew me in too deep
where I knew I shouldn’t wade.
Tonight I sway my skirt,
a subtle slippery wave
willing you to wander by.
Yet no tap settles on my shoulder,
no lonely dashing dancer
coming to cut in.
I’ll be the juicy joke,
the horrid headline
in tomorrow’s tell-tale paper.
Yet tonight I tempt,
my princess parade wave
lost in your laughter.