Saturday, December 24, 2011


One moment in time
I broke down in front of you
didn't mean to
for I like to hide

You're so sweet
trying to understand
the reasons you picked for me
couldn't have been
further from the truth

I laughed while I cried
wondering who
was really comforting who
I'm sorry I couldn't explain
but don't feel guilt
for it wasn't because of you

Sometimes I just feel overwhelmed
by the cumulative consequences
of my past actions
and normally I am alone
not having to worry about
the effects on others

Next time, I promise
I'll find a solitary place to
break down
But, thank you
for holding me
for trying
for being
so sweet!

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Old Man, One Moment

I was standing there with my girlfriend, Julie in the train terminal. I just had a healthy lunch and wasn't happy about it. Diets sucked. Not that I really needed to be, I just felt like I should be. Next to me was a delicious mouth-watering, FAST FOOD, junk heaven. There was two of everything a starving girl could wish for. They were neatly mirroring each other.  Unholy goodness of greasy, salty fries that would make one bloated for days afterwards.  Oh the giant, artery clogging cheeseburgers, with yellow gooeyness dripping down the bottom bun.  Not to mention the large chocolate milkshakes, the condensation starting to form on the sides. Julie follows my gaze and groans. She scolds me with how well I'm doing, don't blow it, imagine the extra five miles I’d have to run, etc. Grumpily, I move away from her.  I know she’s right but why does she have to kill my fantasy?  I pound my forehead against the wall to ceiling window and give a mock moan of longing.  I feel her turn with a snort of disgust. She goes to sit and to wait for our departure to wine country.

The sunlight is bright for this winter day.  The glass warms my face, momentarily distracting me from my cravings for taste-bud gratification. I could see Burgerland, where the temptation behind me was from, lurking. I wonder if they'd notice if I snaked a French fry. I laugh out loud!

I spin around at the light tap on my shoulder. A handsome old man exactly my height smiles into my eyes. He says, "Forgive me, but you look familiar."

 He pulls me past the table of sin and dances me past my weakness. He whispers, "You look almost like my wife. You laugh like her, too, with genuine amusement!"

 He gracefully twirls me around and I'm impressed that I can suddenly dance. I tell him, "You're a wonderful lead!" I also realize I recognize this man. He is the famous photographer, Gerald Trevino.

 He dips me and says, "Thank you, my lady of the black-haired witches."

 I giggle, "Lady? Witches?" He gallantly bows and walks alone to the table with all the food. I'm half tempted to sit down and help myself. He looks back and sees me contemplating bad manners.

 "Just waiting for my wife."

 I blush and quickly go the opposite direction to sit by Julie. "Psst, that's Gerald Trevino."

She gasps her appreciation and ogles while I watch him furtively from behind my magazine. It's been at least 10 minutes and no wife. Lowering the magazine, I sigh. I can't help it. He hasn't touched his food. Then a sad thought entered my head. I hate intuitive moments. He's daydreaming and lips are silently moving. Against my better judgment for not rocking the emotional boat, I get up and slide in across from him. I can feel Julie's puzzled stare. His big, sad, brown eyes come into focus and stare into my hazel ones. I wait, for if you wait long enough, the stories come out.

 His voice is low, tender and wistful. "50 years ago, my child. I met a raven-haired beauty with green eyes over there." He nods towards Burgerland. "I was instantly smitten. It wasn't long before I convinced her that she was equally smitten enough to marry me! 30 beautiful years, three children and a handful of grandchildren! They're all still so little." His voice chokes at the thought. “He roughly shakes it off, his gray hair barely moves.  “We were blessed with the ability to communicate, love freely, easy money and enjoyment of life." His eyes glint wicked. "Among other things that are important to a healthy one compares to Serena. I've managed to go on another 20 years. Channeling my love for her into my pictures, she’s in every one, if you know how to look.”

 My heart breaks.  I’m thirty and still waiting.  True love is such a rarity. I’m in the "maybe I’ll settle for Victor, the nerdy, goody-two shoes, co-worker; or honor my Catholic roots and join the nunnery" mode.  God wouldn’t let me down, will he?

 "You'll find it one day, lady-witch." He guesses my thoughts. My cheeks betray the truth.

 My stomach embarrassingly rumbles. We laugh together.  Mine’s weak with humiliation and his loud with amusement.  A brief breath in and he continues, "This was our first meal together. I've been coming here for 20 years on this day to remember. I swear I feel her here." I feel a chill, the hairs on my body are suddenly electrified and my skin tingles. So glad I didn’t steal a fry.  “Time exists in all forms, together. I feel us, in our youth.”

He touches my hand. "Lady-witch, thanks for the company. I must go. Please be glad to have met me, as I am of you."

I watch his long, lean body get up. He quickly walks out of the terminal. There’s a black photographer’s bag on the seat.  I jump up, "Mr. Trevino! You forgot your camera.”

Running out, I am in time to watch the exact instant as he deliberately steps off the platform and into the arms of the 100 miles an hour nonstop train. Screaming and sobbing, I collapse to the ground. Holding the camera, I’m rocking back and forth. Gentle breezes lift my hair, cooling my tears, against the far wall, illuminating the tunnels just enough, for one moment, I see they are together once more.

Thursday, December 8, 2011


"Please listen....please you're not understanding me...." her voice trails off into a hopeless silence. She'd been pleading for hours. Her throat hurt, in desperate need of water. Logic wasn't working today. The shrink's suggestion to use "I" statements was failing miserably. Everything was in "issues proliferation" mode. He was also in the mindset that there was no forgiving and no forgetting her latest thoughtlessness. She's completely to blame. Her head drops in shame and defeat.

Salsa music blasts on, her head jerks up in surprise. She hears the familiar rhythmical steps of him dancing alone. There are no lights on in the living room. There's no cajoling voice trying to coax her out to join him. There's nothing to do but wait. She dozes fitfully. His hostile presence wakes her. How long has he been there? Dread fills her being. His black eyes look crazed and unfocused.

"Please, it's all a misunderstanding," she starts again. "Put yourself in my shoes? Why can't you equate what you did to my situation?"

He doesn't seem to hear or see her. He's holding something protectively close to his body. He's concealing it just enough in his jacket for her to catch a glimpse of shiny metal. He pauses in the doorway, mumbling to himself.

A quiet sob escapes and she strains against the blue synthetic ropes that keep her tied against the iron wrought headboard. A gentle tug forward, it gives slightly, now leaning back. No! Too hard. It thumps against the wall. Frightened green eyes look into his instantly hyper-focused ones. His animalistic grin widens as he approaches the plastic covered bed. The jacket falls open a little more. She can see the curved handle. A fearful whimper slips out. His deep laugh revels in her terror. Frantically tugging harder, the ropes burning into her flesh, he feeds her nightmare with his slow, methodical advance. Her mind flees, giving into pure panic mode, yanking and jerking at her restraints. The paint rubs off; the drywall is exposed, flaking off in bigger and bigger chunks with her mindless bashing. The man-made fibers splintering her flesh.  Screaming accompanies the frenzied behavior. Blood seeps out, changing the rope's bright color, a disgusting purple.

He rushes over and restrains her. He attempts covering her mouth to quiet the shrieks. The weapon slips out from the coat, lands in-between her legs. He's instantly murmuring the usual sweet nothings, apologies for bringing all this on herself, kissing her face. "Mi amor, I'm so sorry. This is your fault. Oh mi reyna. You must be punished."

Her stillness does nothing to deter him. Abrupt calmness takes over, for a crimson hand has slipped free. The knife is there, pressed against his arousal. Swallowing the revulsion, she forces herself to kiss him back. Both his hands go into her hair, caressing and pulling. "If only you would obey me, these things would not have to happen. How many times must I continue to teach you?" Her neck arched back,  exposed, showing finger-shaped bruises. He tenderly traces each one. "Oh my stubborn one..."

Her hand works toward the weapon. With an Amazonian cry she jams it up. He shudders, falls forward. The entire dead weight of pure muscles crushes her. Her triumph watches him die, slowly bleeding out. The tormentor that will soon be no more...eventually.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

False Memories

Up and down
trying to get over you
Wishing you'd kidnap me
and take me to that far away place
that you'd promised
many moons ago
But now, I know
how hollow were your words
and you're not the knight
I'm looking for
There are no more men anymore
But somehow
that doesn't keep my heart
from loving you
my body from missing
the things you'd do
My mind's memory goes
hazy at trying to
remember the reasons
why we shouldn't
be together
my soul doesn't forget and
pushes me to move forward
if only it could keep the
rest of me from looking back
at the brightness of good moments
and pretending that they
outshone the bad.
May the truth eventually
bring sanity to
all my
And break
my love for the
idea of you.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Both Broken

I broke your heart to heal mine
I needed to see
one last time
the effect I really had on you
Not bargaining for the effect
you could have on mine
and now
I pay the price for
playing with fire
I have been burned
beyond recognition
beyond the healers' skill
And I sink
into depths of darkness
that light
will not penetrate
My body functions day to day
an actress that deserves an Oscar
My soul, buried deep
under the shallow facade
of freedom
Smile now and forever
knowing that I have sinned
against all
and deserve to die
in limbo
Heart beating out of habit
wish it'd stop
a zombie has more hope
than I
for release
from this self-created prison
hoping to trap you to me
well done, you get the last laugh
as you toss the key
just out of reach
and finally prove
you never really
loved me

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Under the Cover of Time

Under the cover of time
I hide
pretending that no one can see me
aging, regretting, reliving
all the minutes that lead me here

Under the cover of time
I cry
about everything,
I realize
it is nothing
the past is changeless,
 no one invent the time machine

Under the cover of time
I laugh
as I begin to understand
that the future is
meaningless, unwritten
a waste of time
to worry about

Under the cover of time
I smash
the clock and watch
as its
parts shatter against
the wall
triumphant that
I'm now
wiser in this present
F--- the rest!


She stands in front of the solid, wooden door, hands frozen above the shiny, brass knob.  Too scared to grab it and turn.  What if it is locked?  The humilation would be too much to bear.  What if it is unlocked?  Does she have the guts to step inside and embrace the future?  Trust issues be damned! Perhaps she should knock and run?  Then she's never have to know the answer to the decision. She laughs at the thought.  It's icy outside and she's in her stilettos.  She can feel that she's turning blue, fingers and toes going numb.  Her long winter coat only covers her knees. An exhale gives body to her breathe, a hazy white, air-brushes the present and flashes her back to a fateful yesterday.

"Shelly, look over there!"  Mimi points a freshly manicured finger at two soldiers lounging against the bar.  They are obviously trolling, no doubt for for one-night stands. She knew they would ship out sooner then later, totally not worth the time!  Or the chance to be on antibiotics for two weeks.

Shelly rolls her eyes.  "Mimi, gross, I don't want a..."  Her voice trails off as the the taller infantryman puffs a ring of smoke towards her and insolently winks.  It couldn't be?  Could it?  Shoving her purse at Mimi, she leaves her startled friend at the table. 

"Hey, Shel!"  His voice in the same low timber that sent thrills down her spine years ago.  Still does. Damn it! The heat between her legs makes her mad as hell.  Her temper rises even higher watching his eyes knowingly roaming the swell of her cleavage and the length of her long legs, enhanced by her red heels.

"Brian," she coolly acknowledges.  Then she positions herself into a solid stance, cocks her fist back and punches him in the jaw.  His friend spits out his beer, guffawing so hard.  Brian ruefully rubs his face.  "Shel, you still have a mean hook."

Refusing to respond, she turns on point, walks back saucily swaying her hips.  Snapping at Mimi, "Stick your tongue back in before a fly lands, girl!"  Taking back her purse, acting like nothing happens, she finishes her Mai Tai in silence.  Then her funny bone kicks in and she busts out laughing.  Mimi giggles in relief.  Bad move!  Brian and his buddy saunter over.  Brian knows that it's always safe to approach Shelly once the laughter comes out.

Mimi flirts with older soldier, Colin.  Shel's blue eyes become glacier. But Brian's hazel eyes stare intently into hers.  His voice deceptively mild, "Shelly, you never showed up."

Her mouth falls open in shock.  "I did so, you f'in a-hole!"

"Girl, I waited at..."  He voices falters as he feels Mimi and Colin's interest focus on his conversation with Shelly.  "I waited for three hours for you with the minist..."

"Bullshit!" Shelly counters.  Her fists curling again.  Eyes glittering evil intentions.  The stool scooting back abruptly, told of her desire to do more physical violence. 

Brian grabs her and places her arms behind her, guides her out the door. He lets her go and she falls against him sobbing.  "Brian, I waited at the St. Helen's Church on Mary Street.  You never showed.  I waited until midnight, like a fool."

Horrified, he stutters, "I was at the St. Mary's on Helen Drive."  He pulls her in and kisses her passionatetly, murmuring how he still loves her and still wants to marry her.  No other girls can compare to her.

She listens hopeful, wanting to believe.

Tires crunching down the road bring her back to the present.  Yesterday's haze gone and yet, she still wants to believe.  She firmly grasps the handle, turns and steps across the threshold.  Yes, all will be right this time, on the inside.