Rx: Boys

a new thing
a new fling
is it true
probably not
but it's a diversion
a distraction
from the medical suck-life
and the fun
makes me a little bit happy
which is more
than 5 doctors
and a pile of pills
have done in weeks.

the young deer in our yard

its dark eyes mimic depth
but carry all the understanding
of the shrub it munches
not a brilliant animal
but still it's peaceful repose makes me want to take a page
from its book (vacuous though it may be) and stand,
near thoughtless,
in the cool air
thinking only thoughts of eat
breathe
munch
crunch
walk
nap
blink
a shaman in its own right
"clear your mind and think of nothing"
down to a science

no compass

the ins and outs
of her heart
are so confusing
to her
it is no wonder
that a boy
in unfamiliar territory
would stop trying
to navigate
for want of a better path.

dream girl

if only you knew me
when i am asleep
i think you'd like me more

i kiss you harder
and softer and longer
and can tell what i'm kissing you for

when i'm asleep
the colors are brighter
but the rules seem a hazier gray

and i'm flirtier and funnier
my personality's sunnier
and it's always a crazier day

the funny thing is
i'm not typically skinnier
i think i'm the same general me

but for whatever reason
(i didn't think i was inhibited?)
i'm the person i wish i could be

i think you'd like me better
if you knew me in my sleep
at least, i know i like me better that way

if you could come with me
into my lucid dream world
i'd be happy to sleep through the day

With great reverence for Elizabeth Bishop

He was so tall and sleek and black
like oil and velvet combined
and my cousin almost ran into him before I grabbed him
(Scotty, not the Moose)
and backed away, my eyes, swollen with equal parts awe, love, and terror
but he wasn't going to charge
used to the hustle and bustle of campers and family reunions
and his horns, soft, and full of blood,
growing
but still I pulled Scotty back slowly, giving the moose respect
and at least 30 feet before worshiping him
with at least 80 fuzzy shots
because I durst not use my flash
and make him walk away.
But he didn't , in fact, he regarded me a moment
before laying down placidly by a hobbit-like den
and munching on cool grasses
to get out of the heat of the summer
and the Family reunion.

ugly anxiety

crushing coldness
loudness, boldness

deep dark panic
near satanic

silent screaming
almost dreaming

you aren't crazy
it's not your heart.
it's just a panic attack
tearing you apart

against my better judgement

inside
the dark is pressing
against the sides
of my head
until I think
it either has to end
or my head
will come apart
at every seam,
and yet,
it seems I place more trust
in verse
than pills
because here I am
writing a poem about it
instead of an aspirin
and a cold pack on my eyes.

aftershocks

When we are talking
I forget how nervous it all makes me
until after you hang up
and a delayed reaction of tremors hit me
like pounding ocean waves
and my heart screams
"No! Wait! You had it right before!
Go back! Rewind! He makes me smile,
you ass of a brain!"
But my brain doesn't listen.
She just continues to tremble,
over-think, over-analyze, and generally drowned out
the sense my heart was making
when we were still talking on the phone.

The day the gerbil escaped

I only left the room for half a minute
to bring the parrot
a crisp slice of pepper
and check the temperature
of the clean water for the
fish bowl
so the betta didn't have to keep swimming
in his tiny circles in a coffee cup.

But I was only gone a minute
(or maybe it was 2 or 3
but it wasn't long and she escaped!)
when she cleared the wired playpen
like a farm boy hopping a fence
and ran across the room!
And I dropped the peppers
(but not the fishbowl) and crawled after her!
Streaking black around the living room,
weaving into shadowed alleyways, under couches and near the wall.

I finally caught her, safely,
cursing the playpen
(it said for gerbils and hamsters right on the box!)
and scolding her
but cuddling her, too, and bribing her with seeds
for stealing her day of freedom.

And I gave the parrot her peppers.
And I gave the betta his crystal clear bowl.
And I sat down on the floor and wondered
when Noah had time to read his Scriptures and Pray.

Something Sweet

[Another poem of mine at deviantArt. October 1st, 2004... Ugh. I know who I was writing this about. Yeah, TexasBoy. But I think it translates well to today (Fresno)]

Something Sweet

I sit here
Craving something sweet.
Something that would inevitably
Send my diet crashing to the ground.
A sip of velvety chocolate,
A bite of warm cookie
from the oven
only moments ago,
A spoonful of Strawberry ice cream,
So cold,
The spoon sticks
to my tongue,
A deep swallow
Of cool lemonade,
Pink…


Or a letter
From you.

I'm Flirting Impaired

[I found a couple more of my poems at deviantArt. This one I wrote June 9th 2004, about PoetryBoy, my Boyfriend-ish person who later became my first kiss, even though I kinda didn't kiss him back. Yeah. Awkward.]

I'm Flirting Impaired

I am so confused
By this boy who looks like a man
Especially as a woman
Staying girl-child like Peter Pan

I haven’t been pretty
But Beautiful is inconceivable
I guard my heart
Never letting boys make me deceivable

So I get lost
look at him like a foreign creature
Whether in seats at a play
Or watching his game from the bleachers.

I wait each day
For him to realize who I am, according to me
But he keeps insisting he likes
This person I’m not sure how to be

He puts an arm
Around my shoulders and I stop my breath
I might have fun
If I weren’t so scared to death.

Never been kissed
Long forgotten sweet 16, I’m almost 25
But I don’t know how
To seem more alive.

So I just keep going
Along with newness till it gets too near
And maybe, just maybe
I’ll eventually be comfortable with you here.

Sweets

[I have a rather awkward confession about this one. I am not 100% certain who it was for, but I THINK I wrote it very VERY secretly and a little inappropriately for Cousin Jas. Note, Cousin Jas is not MY Cousin. It's not THAT inappropriate. Eew. *shudder* But the timing of it, had to be kind of recent. So... yeah, my brain is weird.

And BY THE WAY, should I ever decide to share my poetry with a CURRENT Boy (ie: Fresno?)( a thing which I have never done even though I write FOR them they NEVER know it) it is all about HIM, the boy of PRESENT. Capisce?!]

Sweets

He is mine
My sweet
Does more than my lungs
To make my heart beat.

He cries
And I tease him
But wrack my brain thinking
Of things that would please him.

I am his
His Sweet
He loves everything about me
From my forehead to my feet.

I cry
And he holds me
Says things will work out
Just wait and see

He is my mine
I am his sweet
Forever in the temple
And under the sheets.