Don't Do It Easy, Do It Hard

there's a fear in my head

of living by what the truth says

and it's a cautious thing we do

sliding our lives together

what if my heart gets cold

and heavy feelings push me over

I'm slipping into crazy

while you're perfect, everything you do

who could ever love me like you

no one else would kiss that way

no one else could wait that way, hoping that I might be better

---------

Strange Things On Ordinary Days

I glanced past the gin, vodka, rum bottles and saw it happen -- he came walking in from years ago telling her secrets. Now she's got some pretty things she'll never unknow.

Late at night I can hear them talking. Frozen bits of time, cold gifts that last forever. Maybe this goes on everyday, two people fitting the world inside an embrace.

Are there answers?

If you ask a shadow it will say, everything's a copy

the sun sees only yellow

and I know only what I know

---------

Crouching against a sturdy oak I lifted the camera seconds too late as lightning tore the sky and rain turned to hail. Marbles of ice hit the lens and scattered around, their sudden cold hammering daffodils that have no choice but to open when spring calls.

I Can't Explain It

He wants all of her

bared body in sunlight and laughter

when her heart fell apart

he carried comfort in his hands

her mind is bent a bit

promises can't fix it

everything wrong here is me, she said

he agreed

I feel lost, she said.

------------

Blushing pink Magnolia blooms died on a cold Monday night. Tuesday's limp petals wept and fell from branches eager for spring.

Monday Morning:

She dreamt of silky deep love in cruel blue

fingers in his hair

dawn broke her heart

an easy lightness is missing inside

but all its pieces are there

-----

Today's honey hues burnt away clouds shrouding a cold spring day, sunlight washing daffodils and screaming yellow forsythia.

So many things in mind, but I have plucked out just enough of the shards to rest my head.

Monday Morning:

She dreamt of silky deep love in cruel blue

fingers in his hair

dawn broke her heart

an easy lightness is missing inside

but all its pieces are there

-----

Today's honey hues burnt away clouds shrouding a cold spring day, sunlight washing daffodils and screaming yellow forsythia.

So many things in mind, but I have plucked out just enough of the shards to rest my head.

Just keeping the fingers moving...

Empty, I was empty

I thought the sky was falling stars

with the convertible top down I started making wishes

wishing wishing wishing

until the night made sense at a red light where you weren't and never would be,

with me

The First Day Of Spring Is A Ragged Thing:

Through morning's burning honey-lemon light life whispers

to spring

to rise

to erase

winter's bloody raw killing frost

sun, wrap around me

slide through me

kiss me

spring

----------

She drank down a deep, silky red

her stunning regrets all stones in the well

an empty glass

----------

Outside today I sucked in my first breath of spring. Later, with the top off the Bronco I watched Orion drag his carcass through dusk's stark treetops, chasing a falling winter sky. An owl sings at the starlight.

Lily is asleep at my feet, muddy and breathless on the first day of spring. Good girl Lily.

Thinking About Tomorrow

I'll set these heavy things down

lean back crying

till the water runs out

and the sky runs out

and we're out of time

I'll throw these heavy things down

they're carving pieces out

slowing my smile

slowing my think

they wear me so low so down

------------

I caught a glimpse of myself in my head in black and white. I was covered in grime and walking a straight empty road carrying something in my arms. With my head flung back and eyes shut against a high sun, I sagged.

Something I read said, look for the bones. I found them. Sometimes you've got to toss it on the page and switch it around. It won't be great, but it's better.

Now:

I walked home under a diamond sky hanging wishes on the stars, remembering South Dakota's miles of motorcycles and screaming pipes.

Then:

We crept along the trail past a marker that pointed one mile to the top of a mountain rising from Sturgis's smooth buffalo prairie. Wind tugged knotted scraps of cloth in the trees.

What are those? I asked.

Prayer satchels, he said. Relatives come and tie their wishes inside for the spirits to take.

With blades of scrub grass underfoot I let my wet hair dry in the sun, watching clouds cross a lemonade sky. A chubby girl traded her shirt for a ride with a guy, while I popped the back of my camera and threaded its film.

I stirred sugar into the heavy diner mug, stretching new chaps and sipping caffeine. Elbows on a cracked red Formica counter, I looked down the row of creased faces, gray hair combed with August wind.

Now again:

With abrupt joy moths fluttered in March's early warmth.

----------------

Bits n Pieces again:

Some things take little bits away,

others put little pieces back.

You could be good or bad to me, and we're even.

A Little Bit

Last-forever love and stale beer cramped her gut as music raged and stupid girls romped on shitty cracked concrete. He tore at the notes alone under blue lights on fire, crazy and ripping up a song.

She's a stone behind cigarette smoke weaving What Ifs like shiny gods, thinking, he is there and she is there and maybe the night is magic. The unknown could yawn on its hinges, granting wishes at closing time.

She breaks another $20 for a beer and picks at him, stuck in her mind.

A Broken Heart Tableau

Little tapioca dreams swirled in her shot glass -- a thin layer of creamy liqueur whispering on a Kahlua pool pinched in her fingers. She was licking her lips, thinking of him.

She would get lost in a song and forget his face, but not for long. He left her a note one day, but she never told us what it said.

We have all cupped our hands around a shredded heart. I spent months staring at a field filled with Queen Anne's lace, falling leaves, sudden snow, and over again while I wondered where the bubbles went.

There was a girl in the bar with her heart on fire -- the best thing he had ever seen and she loved him until another girl's flashy smile and short skirt walked by. His eyes followed deep curves and he forgot her.

I guess this happens every day -- a thousand I love Yous dying on her face.

---------------

Just me and my glass of wine sitting here near midnight in early March remembering her glassy eyes, swollen cherry lips, and dead hope in her heart.