For He Whose I Am

The bus had been 19 hours and 12 minutes of wasted time.

“What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know. I obviously wasn’t thinking, judging by your reaction.”
“Go home.”
“Okay.”

She was now seated on the bench at the bus station, under the pretense of waiting for the next bus. In her hands, she held the pocket watch.

“That one.”
“This one? Miss, this one is an expensive watch.”
“I know.”
“Ok. Cash or charge?”
“Is it extra to engrave?”
“No, Miss. It’s complimentary. I will get you a sheet of paper.”

For he whose I am.

Counting her money again, she hesitated from buying a ticket. Why did she think he would come and stop her? Just because she came so far? Held back this long, her tears were heavy, overripe and finally fell like devastating bombs on the dry skin of her hands.

Feeling better after her cry, she stood up with purpose to buy her ticket and return home. She would write the whole thing off as an experience, an adventure, and fodder for her work. Maybe she would even get a book out of it…

“Violet!” Then, he was there.

Skin

someday to me someday’s skin someday’s taste
fantasy to you, fantasy’s skin, fantasy’s taste
forever to us
forever skin

Dream I

She would run from the house, lifting her rough skirts to increase her speed. To get there. The shouts of the sisters would echo, but she would ignore them and laugh, casting her eyes up to a blue sky. The sound of the tall grasses played drums on her tall boots. She would get there, she would. Defying all the rules, she would make it to the place, the illusion he had bloomed in her earthen mind. She would search the forest, wondering if it was all a Victorian fairytale, had she burned her bridges in a free fall for no reason, no promise.

But in her dream, he was there. His clear eyes darted to the side and she saw the carvings. And then he was gone again. She felt with her fingers tips and the wood still hummed and burned with life. She read it like a map and was off.

A new course charted.

Love Is Free

“I need to know why. I need to know why you took me.”

“And I am under no obligation to tell you.”

“Meme, you must tell me. You don’t understand…”

“I understand. I understand you feel you need to know. And I do not feel the need to tell you.”

“I am 17 years old!”

“And I am 71.”

“Why? Why did you take me from them? Why??”

“It was war time. You were conceived behind fences. Something like that doesn’t make it to the real world. Nadia went to Berlin and Mac was back in the mines. Damn fingernails never even got clean. So you see, I took you because I wouldn’t allow them to determine your fate. That was for you to do. Under my supervision, of course.”

“Meme! Ha! “

“It isn’t polite to laugh at an old woman.”

Title Unknown by Vivian Maier

 Sunday Picture Press

Yes Times

one frightened

                              girl I be

leave your mark

all over me

Short Skirt Syndrome

Girls

Who

Say cock

can count on

no one. remember…

Dramaturgical Skies Dawned

Deep pollution pounds, crows’ wings might,
fate’s the whipping boy, Giving up/crazy lies,
sounds are clouds Billows torn from the same
cloth as magenta and fire flies besides the horizon
line I gave you three tries. Steps away Learning
don’t extend the parastite propagandaist for any old
Tom Dick or Harry who crosses the hearth
Never trust a holy man

Church 14 by Eric Alder

To Be Soiled

How easy
Disregard
That discount girl
With
Blackbirds in her pie

Maiden bountiful
Purity doesn’t transcend
Send me a message to amend
Free of expectations

And I shall
Cut corners
To make ends meet
A forced introduction

Slate and Switch

Out from your
Triangle ray
Of make me okay
What a rose colored
Robe

you throw

A glam. And I’m the sham
The fake one,
the one
they see.
And I can tell who they are,
the ones that see.

You’ll come back to me
Split skin
And disease
Oh, the girl who puts out
Feelings and murmurings of faith

Incubate that special
Know that apart from the world
Its the owning

Disregard your lessons
Not need for slate and switch.
Walls around bells
Or beginnings.
Red brick beginnings
In corners of walls where innocence falls

Diffused light
You write
What you write
Then walk to the fountain and say
This swallow for punctured heart
This swallow for stone
This swallow for rapist knife
This swallow for none
And this swallow glided wee wee wee all the pills down

Further on discovery
What a shameful me
Blood early age
Thief who arranges for pitys desire
Ripe for the wiser
See this gold in me?
Fuck it out of me.
Too frank?
See I’m a toy
And all that honest
Integrity says so much
About clean boys and their attempts to save you

But deep down still
Slate and switch
Is still the itch

Feel These Curves

Temper me
Like chocolate
I’m giving sex
For love
I shouldn’t have to shout
To make you
Come