January302012
Arms.
His, neatly clasped around
her body. They lay
nestled underneath a
blanket in a bed that is
not their own.
She stirs first
disoriented but content.
He emits the perfect amount of
warmth. The same she clung to in
darkness the night before.
For a moment she
basks, bathing in his
radiation preparing for the
clouds to arrive,
shrouding him.
With gentle reluctance she
shifts, facing him now. In turn his
eyes ease open. Any semblance of
relaxation is displaced with
veiled urgency.
Her eyes
snap shut,
shielding her from the
scene that follows.
Squirming cautiously
out, away, up.
He exposes his
bare body to the
cold.
Stooping he
scoops and dons clothing
strewn about the
room.
Stuffing wrappers and
other debris in
his pockets.
Slipping on his
worn-out, black,
knock off Vans he spies the
Hanes boxer briefs
not on his
person.
Adding them to the
menagerie of items in his
pockets. He turns the
knob gingerly,
building momentum.
He exits,
leaving the door
ajar.
January222012
Sometimes I think of you.
I can’t really say why,
You don’t even exist
Yet.
Right now you’re still
Growing. Inside my sister
Your mother.
I saw your sonogram,
A grainy snapshot of
What is to be.
Your profile looks so feminine
To me at least.
I’m convinced you will be a girl.
At times when I’m contemplating
The worst,
Robbing you of my presence
You pull me back.
Other times I
Think it might be better,
Perhaps if you didn’t know me.
I don’t want to be the
Crazy aunt who
Sobs for no reason, who
Gets irritable after joking, who
Never seems to quite have a
Grasp on “it”.
No, I’d rather be the
One who would’ve loved you, the
One who you remind everyone of, the
One whose smile and spirit you
Emulate.
Someday we may
Read this together, find it
Laughable that I
Would give up so
Soon.
Or this may be the
Final token, my
First and last gift to you.
The others may be
Hurt, feel owed some
Explanation or
Goodbye. But I’ve always
Said what I needed,
What I wanted,
What I felt, no secrets.
You may not
Get the chance to experience the
Whirlwind of my being. So you
Will be the one I leave my
Tidings to.
December72011
She flipped the nestle package over. Surveying the ingredients. They had become internalized by now, but it was ritual “Tear here to make SWEET MEMORIES”, the plastic read below a small notch. She began as she always did. 2 bowls, one for dry and wet. The butter softened already, being whipped. Sugars, vanilla and eggs to follow. Flour, soda and salt in the other. Adding the flour mixture scoop by scoop and she always stopped as if she’d forgotten something. The recipe did call for nuts, she didn’t care for them. She ripped open the package of milk chocolate morsels, rushed out falling into the caramel colored dough. A few chips landed on the counter, sullied and unwanted.
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10AM
I miss your starry nights.
On a windy day the air stays chalky.
Inhale deeply. I breathe dust.
The sky turns a pale red
We’ve landed on mars.
I learned to ride my bike
On your streets.
Trees were sparse
Churches endless.
*Note: This is unfinished but I posted it anyways. Get off my dick, Folashade!
November192011
She opens the fridge,
grabs a slab of meat.
Rips into the cellophane,
plops it on the cutting board.
Slicing and turning the flesh
in circles.
Around and around,
the pieces grow
smaller.
She plucks
a bottle from a high shelf.
Her arms jerk as she
shakes the
glassware, coaxing out the
grains.
She scoops the chunks
dropping them into the pan.
The fat sizzles and I
stare, cockeyed.
The smell assaults me.
The pan sits, violated
as I retreat from her
kitchen.
8AM
Sitting on the couch,
swathed in your favorite
moth bitten blanket.
Feet sunken into those
old man shoes.
Watching your stories
on a loop. You know every
punch line and twist.
That feline pounces on
your lap. Sinking further
into the cushions you
caress her.
Ignoring invitations from
friends, coworkers, and acquaintances.
You waste your youth.
Those baby blues have seen
better days. That blonde mane
buzz cut for ease.
As the goldilocks
grow the invitations
wane. People tire of
the oversized shirts and
ripped plaid pants.
The constant hum
and pixels beckon
laughter. The blue
electronic hue bathes
the room. Lighting up
your face like a
child’s.
As you step outside the sun
blinds you. Your impatience
is apparent as you
itch to get back to your
TV friends.
They know how to
make you laugh.
8AM
I saw you there, standing
The work of 4 years
Being expressed in a mere moment.
It must’ve felt like a lifetime.
All the trials you’ve gone through,
But the good times surely surpass.
As you look back on it all don’t linger,
Don’t worry
Don’t fret.
Simply smile, the memories will last
Ten lifetimes.
Keep it moving, there’s so much to do
So much to see, this is not an ending.
No, this is the beginning of your life.
Your aura,
Your soul,
Your very being is just beginning to blossom.
So go, do what you want
Go, meet people
Go, make memories that will last
Ten more lifetimes.
I assure you,
It only gets better from here.
8AM
I believe it was,
a Saturday.
The first time I
gazed upon your face.
I looked dumb,
frozen with a smile.
Batting my eyes,
Speechless and hopeful.
You stared back, grinning too.
“Why are you smiling?”
“I don’t know.”
Then the games began.
Wondering what you mean
when you say…
Wondering what you think
when you look…
Pretending I don’t
notice you as I walk by.
Thinking about you as soon
as you walk away.
I’ve grown tired,
trying to decipher
every action.
But I love it when your mouth
eases into a smile.
Your eyes pull me in
And I stay there.
Just don’t say my name
in that sing-song voice or I’ll—
do whatever you say.
It’s alright,
I’ll wait.
8AM
She walked into the store, it was hot and stuffy. All she wanted to do was get in and get out. Peering into the glass paned door of the refrigerator she surveyed her beverage options. Of all the thoughts spiraling through her head only one came to the forefront I just want a fucking drink. She scanned the prices, $2.00 for 16.9 ounces, $3.50 for 15.2 ounces. I suppose that one’s more filling but I want tea. Two dollars just sounded better. She was rung up, $2.05, she slid her card.
“Do you want your receipt?”
“No you can keep it.” As she walked out into the sunlight she slid her sunglasses back over her face. Taking a sip she paused in a moment of surprise and glanced down at the label, SWEET TEA WITH LEMONS. I didn’t want lemons. In spite of that she continued to drink, it was refreshing.
Her sundress billowed in the wind as she trudged down the block. Her brain urged her to move faster but her body was stuck in the thick sludge of the heat. The ice cold tea had already begun to sweat and was quickly equalizing to the outside temperature. The heat didn’t bother her though, she didn’t care. Granted she wasn’t going that far but she would have walked for miles if the occasion called for it. There, about ten feet away was the oasis she journeyed for. A quaint azure house sat oddly in the middle of a row of white and gray cookie cutter houses.
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8AM
I smile, and lie.
It seeps through my teeth,
Drips onto the ground.
I’d hope that by now
You could see through the façade.
It becomes harder to maintain,
I’d love to shake it off.
I drop little bombs
Hoping to alert you.
You sit there, smugly
Content with yourself.
Positively oblivious to the surroundings.
It’s my fault really
The truth tried to tumble out long ago.
I kept it trapped inside.
I created a monster.
I just might be a liar,
Perhaps the best there ever was.
