It's all there
Floating delicately
Ripples of hurt disturbing
The tranquil pool's of sleepy eye's
With invisible waves of secret honesty
Truthfully portraying what choaked words can't
Everything's been seen and told, just hold me close.

Yesterday, driving down the road, listening to the radio.

The news, a mistake for sure. There is never anything up lifting. Another chance for depression.

But there was the bright winter sun, a blue ocean, and moving traffic.

A voice said, "today a woman hiking on a trail near the "Hollywood" sign with her dogs found a head in a plastic bag.

She was alarmed to find that her dogs were playing with something and she wasn't quite sure what it was. When she got close she found that it was a man's head, dismembered from his body, dogs chasing it about.

A human head? Really? Were the eye's open or shut? Was it bleeding? Did it smell? Was the mouth open? Was it *****, bruised, green, blue? Did she scream, faint, swear, look around in a guilty fashion, cry, throw-up, freeze, yell at her dogs..."No....drop it!" Would she call for help? Brush the dogs teeth? With bleach? Take them to the groomer? Who would she call...911, the news, her friends, her Mom, a Priest?

And then it happened...I laughed, a horrible, hysterical laugh. I could see the dogs, chasing the head, in a plastic bag...rolling down the hill.

I will never be able to go the the market again and hear the cashier ask...

I guess the time is really here.

Been told by others, myself, but not by my heart.

What do you do when you keep finding yourself in the same place?

A place you don't want to be.

Knowing that there is nothing you can do. Unable to change others.

I guess the time is really here to roll in the shards of broken glass.

There will be blood. Pain. Scars.

Regret.

I saw you sitting on our front porch
It was a dull, silent day
The kind you find in Colorado
at spring time, early may
And the kids are at school
And the housewives are too busy cleaning the house
cooking their meals
Washing the lipstick stains off their husbands shirts

And you looked cute like little kids do
with a chubby face and baby hands
I sat next to you
and asked you what you were doing
You said "I'm waiting for the rain."
why?
"Because I like the smell of it."

You reaffirmed my sense in humanity then.
Someone who was only 5 years old
You made me want to go home and destroy every razor I had stashed away
Rip out every sad sob story of a poem I had written
Open up every curtain in that death stained house
That smelled like body odor
and human warmth
But it lacked
life

You made me want to scream and cry
and say "yes yes yes you're smart little guy!"

But I stared in amazement as thunder was heard
And now when I hear it, im reminded of your words
As I held your little hands in mine, the neighbour boy
and we danced in the rain as you squealed with delight
five years old with beautiful brown eyes
I could only hope one day Id have a brother like you
That was before my mom had the baby

And you were just a little boy
so every time it rains
I think of that dance
and how it smelled
and how it tasted when I found out that your stepfather had beaten your brains out

     3 years later
        after we'd moved.
That sweet-bitter taste.

of life laughing in your face