Twisted

Written as a submission to Dallas Art House in response to this year's Origin theme 'On Darkness.'

I’ll make it mine”, age-old thought in a little boys’ brain,

Child’s plaything, magnifier.

I can feel its smooth leather pouch,

In my pocket,

It channels the sun, what twig and beetle burned,

Now burns in me.

“That girl is fine,” A king whose lust won’t be tamed,

Smokin sweet, trophy wife.

Baby you’re going to get lucky,

On my mattress.

From Adams’ rib both lips and breasts satisfy,

And makes hungry

“I’ll be divine,” A creature who wants just to reign,

Proud cherub, anointed.

Your god only wants you happy,

Comes the whisper.

The Liar promises life in taste and tree,

Whose fruit is death.

“I am the vine,” cure the sick and heal the lame,

Whore lover, law breaker.

Cannibal? You said eat your flesh,

To come alive.

Nail in bone for boasts of God their fury spent,

The cost for me.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

A Sweet Bite Of Life

 

“I don’t get the draw,” my wife said, quickly biting into a Jordan Almond. How could she understand the depth of my relationship? Jordan Almonds was childhood innocence, teenage sweat and romance with sweet sugar coating. Right up there with Nonpariels. The nonpareil attraction I can blame on my grandmother. I can never eat them without making them into a little chocolate shaped hamburger by bringing the flat ends together. Sitting on that couch in her North Hollywood apartment my sister and I were always plied with sweets. So it was that those candies connected that kid on that couch to my first job as a teenager.

I was twelve year old and every Saturday morning my friend Keith and I worked at our Lawn Mowing service; Barbro mowing (Barnes and Brook). We’d roll that Briggs and Stratton lawnmower and gas-powered edger to our neighbors’ yard. Professional edging and mowing; I think that’s what our business card said. We did a damn good job; matter of fact. Keith doing the edging and me mowing. Collect our money and move onto the next yard. Some weekends we’d reward ourselves with a walk to JC Penney. JC Penney had these large glass display cases, imagine a goldfish tank, filled with every kind of candy. Always part of my lawnmowing take went to the purchase of nonpareils or Jordan Almonds. Because boys like candy…and girls.

Old friends won’t be surprised she was a red-head (years later this trend would yield to some catastrophe; but that’s a story for a different day). There’s the one that got away and the one you never had. She’s the never had. In junior high Keith and I named our imaginary consulting company after her. Always elusive, she may not have ever known she was my crush until we told her at reunion. Her name was Jordana. Like the candy.

Of course she didn’t get the draw. It wasn’t just the Jordan Almond. It was youth, laughter, wonder, innocence and puberty. No quick crushing bite of life. It’s that rich coming into fullness, savoring that sweet sugar coating and the reward of that final almond crunch.  

 

Spinning Together

                                                     Photo by Anna Anikina on Unsplash

For those in the inner circle---this one's for you!

Pick a side, it’s easy---not listening,

Yet we have a pact; unspoken,

It comes easy to us,

But really, it takes, consistence,

Two connecting.

Zeal, misplaced convictions; Oh youth!

Lust, loin and heart, puffed up

Self, arrogant, so many excuses,

It comes easy to us,

To keep talking.

Through lovers, long days; the weight of living,

Writing, calling, crying; we stay in-touch,

Sharing hearts, sharing hurts, comes easy,

What kind of Providence

Keeps us at it.

She wounds; a legion of cuts,

The ache made bearable,

With dark rich laughter,

Forged long, slow burn,

Tears mingle.

Not what you say---it’s listening,

Guffaws guaranteed,

Mystery; electricity and stars in orbit,

Deeper than Hubble can see,

We keep spinning together.