Marnie is in front of me

She's giving herself a bath

No sign of a flea

It would feel my wrath

Today is a Monday

No rain in sight

Yet the sky stayed gray

Without a single beam of light

Midnight will strike in 60 seconds

And then I'll slam this laptop shut

My tired brain, it beckons

We must sleep to break this rut

I pull the covers over as I lie beneath

Tomorrow when I awaken it will be Tuesday, June 13th

How much more must I grow

before I'm the first pick from the bunch?

Instead of being treated like a hoe

and taking every single punch.

I want to be the fruit

of all your desires.

Starting at the root,

burning these small fires.

A seed in your mind

is what I wish to plant.

Though you’ve always been unkind,

maybe instead I should rant.

I spilled water on your floor,

but that shouldn’t cause hate.

Since I cleaned it up and more-

Poured you a whiskey, straight.

Dig this hole a bit deeper

And say that night only got worse

I thought you’d see me as a keeper,

Sometimes I wish we could reverse.

I took a spade to the head all evening long-

Ideas flowering of us together.

Thinking you would agree, but I was so wrong

You kept saying you could find someone better

“Till next time at a party or something”

I think were your last words as I left.

What a terrible way to begin the morning-

Looking back I should have commit theft.

I would call myself hardy

as I peek back at our past.

Quick to see you, never tardy-

All while you’ve always picked me last.

This one blue sock isn’t like all the rest

Not even it’s matching pair

Something about it sticks out

I would say like a sore thumb

But today, we’re talking toes

This is the sock I found under my bed

Along with all the pictures of us you left

And maybe a handful of dirty underwear

I’m quite sure you have the other sock

But we are creeping up on 6 months of no contact

I’m not sure if your sock would even want this one back

With the dusty memories that encase it

Turning the blue into a fuzzy gray

I only see blue because I remember them on you

Maybe I’ll treat this sock like the rest

Like all the others I’ve found over time

Lost, without a partner

So, into the pile it goes

With the intention of being used again

Renewed, reused, recycled

Onto my hand to clean the mirror

As I sit on my porch, I notice this is the sunniest day we’ve had this year.

The sun hit every leaf I could see

And I could feel the warmth on my skin, also.

It’s moments like this that I feel grateful to be working remotely.

To have the luxury of stepping out my office aka my study room cave and be able to sit on my porch, read a book, play some music, let the kitties out, and call it all a lunch break.

Pretty great. Pretty unlike every other break I had experienced in my past.

I remember my first job working at a pie shop, and a break was sitting in the manager’s room also known as a closet with both a fluorescent over head light and desktop light hue and taking 30. Or better yet when it was warm enough outside to sit in my car and take a breath.

Then there were the days at the pharmacy, where there was no room for a break. No lunch. No dinner. And only a bathroom break if you were quick. The craziest part is all of that was legal. The crazier part was that it took me almost 5 years to move on to greener pastures.

I won’t continue to go into detail on the jobs that followed and the brief breaks that I received, but I can say that at least that the next was better than the former.

And that brings me to today...

Where I work a job decent enough to not rob me of my mind when I get off.

Where I have the ability to sit back on my porch in continuance with the thoughts I had around noon.

Where I can pick up right (or at least close to) where I left off in my story.

Where my fingers aren’t tired enough to write about all these things that happened today.

On the first day the sun was truly out

And I wore a dress

And sandals

And pink nail polish on each toe

And I read bell hooks “all about love”

And every time the wind blew past me

I couldn’t tell if the smell I picked up on

Was my book

Or the bush on my right

Blooming, growing,

Letting me know it was alive again

The sky is blue because we are looking at a mirror

And our sky sees sadness

It cuts through every other color of the rainbow

And shows us the deep blue veins that run through our planet

It is a very simple sky

One that only shows a reflection of what is below

One that feels like many at certain times in different places

Since the sun is always trailing near

Showing us the variations in our landscapes

It’s blue because we want it to be

Not because it has to be

We could not stand to see to another color

I’ve been in this slump for too long and counting

There’s an error within me, somewhere

From the moment my eyes blink open

I strike out

And can’t move past that action for hours

My dreams ride a dugout through crystal rivers

It’s an overnight windup

Only to wake up

On the cold, hard mound

Called reality

I can see the diamond

Up ahead

Yet, with every step I take

There’s a catch

And the score regresses

Is this batter meant to break?

Or rather to balk

In the face of withdrawal

Setting a new pitch

Forbidding the ball to be dropped again

I’m eager for a shift

Where a new lineup is ready

And patterns are broken

So my plate may serve life

Fully and wholly

Clover called me over

A blessing

In a potato field

Legend says

It’s luck

But here

I am the rainbow

Walking

A sprig of green

Is no match

For self belief

As I brew

My own fortunes

And pat tales

Back into their cavities

I will dance this jig forever

She lied

and she kept on lying

Awake

As I laid

Parallel to her intentions

I want to know

How it feels

To see the sun

Come up

In the Grand Canyon

At the Start of the

New Year

I want to hold

My gaze

I will not budge

Even if a meteor

Comes down

And builds a million more

Tiny canyons

I want to kneel

Soft, still

As a creature

Who will howl

Totally oblivious

Of it’s liberty

Isolation is dangerous

Independence is taboo

Loneliness is ominous

You have nothing without

A tool

The gallon of water

Spills on the dust

And I’m left

With a paste

A crow flies by

As I look up

Is this a sign?

Should I be afraid?

This crooked world

We live in

I may go berserk

One day

Maybe I’d rather

Be this aerial shadow

Flocking to

My sprain

The water has run out

And the sun is up

It’s time to search

For more

Yet I wonder

If I hit vertigo

What more the canyon

Has in store