Janis Joplin hair
might as well accept it’s mine
Happy Halloween
drive to edge of earth
that’s how far money stretches
there’s never enough
space, bedrooms, hardwood
three people and all their shit
spread suburban sloth
walkability
on a scale of one to ten?
tractor crossing sign
there is no number
to measure my distaste here
size shouldn’t matter
Americans Dream
big, better phallic boasting
in the shape of homes
American Dream:
be Janis Joplin–different
don’t let it kill you
once my side of town
now the other side of death
my heart aches for you
white clown suit darkness
metaphor for life we live
hidden in darkness
how he played guitar
for my beautiful best friend
for my soul sister
i am a true friend
because my love never stops
my love never stops
it starts with the truth
the truth of that death moment
when you were reborn
when i cried for you
you hate to cry publicly
even for our love
spotlight on darkness
as bright as mansions’ windows
or September rain
either way, we love
living for the dark secrets
while god drives us home
It is probably best that you dissented. That Wii and dinner preparation were more important than this Sunday afternoon ride.
We all have our releases. Yours is cutting onions and spinning tires in an imaginary resort. Mine is spinning tires in the real world, on concrete paved just for my bicycle.
I was first out of the gate, ready to win. For one hour, I was not anybody’s mother. Anybody’s teacher. Anybody’s wife. Anybody’s (even the one who lost her baby) friend. I was just a cyclist, three words to my name: “On your left!!” shouted to the tops of the peaks. Ringing out over my music. Move out of my way because there are not enough miles, not enough breaths in my lungs, not enough songs on this playlist to pedal through this pain.
Only: Road, River, Range. That is all I wanted to see. That is all I wanted to pull into my soul this Sunday. Those blue Colorado skies, the perfectly paved path, the river that feeds us all, and the mountains that divide our continent. There is nothing in this world more beautiful than sweat trickling down a back, tight thigh muscles, clicking gears, and That View. I could live my whole life in that one hour, the numbness of nightmares disappearing with each and every mile.
Forget what she said on Friday. Or the horrible news that I might carry like a burden for three weeks and she will carry for a lifetime. Forget that I came home to discover my husband’s mother rests on her death bed and my little girls can’t quite wrap their minds around anything deeper than the five-house alley-walk to their friend’s house.
Forget it all for this one breath-stealing shout-out: Road, River, Range. Placed here for me, for all of us, to tackle with this perfect body someone gave me to live on this Earth.
The three R’s. Only a different lesson.
Medieval market
roasted chestnuts across sea
an old song in Spain
we have a car
but are now so accustomed
to walking
that it sits in front of our building
we move across town,
the streets as familiar
as the smiles on their faces.
we order beer, wine,
and a baklava-like mirengue-topped
pastry that tastes like s’mores
and is gobbled up in two minutes
they stand in front of the circus sign
and we make our way across the bridge,
Reina Victoria in our back pocket,
coupons ready
for the first time we witness
the financial crisis
that weighs heavily on
the drooping blue tents,
kids as young as five performing,
throwing in camels, pythons,
and even Monster High,
holding up a sign at the end,
¡Viva El Circo!
while two-thirds of the seats
are vacuous reminders
of where people are
on a Saturday night
best. circus. ever.
is what my girls say,
never complaining once
about the long walk home
but all i can hear,
all i can see
as we move along rain-washed sidewalks,
their tiles as slippery as death,
is the American song,
“Unbreak My Heart”
whose Spanish rendition
and brightly-lit acrobatic act
brought tears to my eyes
the words
though they didn’t belong
the seats
though mostly empty
trampled out the desperation
that sits unspotlighted
in the back of every
slightly drooping circus tent
i find myself tiring
of the songs filling my playlist–
they are either too much a reminder of home
or not enough.
i ache to fill my ears
with a new set of notes
if only the shortening
still-hot days
of this endless summer
could sing me a new song,
one that will remind me of home
and make me at home,
all with the same
melancholic melody
good music and beer
Red Rocks, my Colorado
feel the beat of love
I and Love and You by The Avett Brothers
a year ago
a lifetime ago
i stood on this same step
i rang this same doorbell
i retrieved these same girls
i hardly knew you
i stood awkwardly
in your living room
trying to explain my taste in music
you cringed when i said folk
(perhaps you’d cry too
the first time you
heard their song on the radio)
we’ve made music since then
sometimes heavy metal
sometimes hip hop
just a taste of alternative
but you still haven’t heard my song
i stand on your doorstep now
you won’t answer so i walk in
(it is like home to me)
i pull them out of the room
three in a row, sleepy-eyed,
begging for breakfast
(they are starving)
you open your door
sleepy-eyed too
and there are no words
there are no lyrics
that can fall to the floor
in this awkward living room stance
as i shuffle our lives out the door
it’s not pizza
it’s Beau Jo’s
and we pile on honey
drive across grid-lined neighborhoods
and pray our van won’t die
between Denver and the suburbs
the kids are free tonight
we are free tonight
though strapped down by
a mortgage
two semi-functioning vehicles
endless governmental fees
and a dream that breaks my heart
every time the sun rises
Pandora nor my Mac
will play my music loud enough
i still love them anyway
and though we go to Spain
though we put our lives on the line
to go to Spain
i will love you anyway
behind these lyrics
i leave back pieces of me
the world will not see
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