Tuesday, July 28, 2009

"blessings, healing prayers.. may the next fall be in love ~s."

I remember vividly...
the night I believed...

Rounding the lake...
the fluorescent lights swarming with blind mosquitos
and the Ghosts...
fog bouncing off the bows of lonely fishing boats...
dancing on the water,


And the Martini Moon...
there...
Above me...
The perfect cusp of glass raised to the sky,
Clinking! with the Stars...

And so it was,
that on that night...
under the tipping brim of an accidental moon...

I fell again...

Head over heels,
face first
into an even more
Accidental Love...

It's been a long time
since
I've laughed that hard.

Felt that hard.

Fell that hard.

Tonight,
the words tumbled from a keyboard,
splattered into my in~box...
from a friend...

are the same fiery color as that long ago Moon...

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Our time...

I dance in Combat boots. Laced one eyehook after another up my shin. I have a past. And I don't wanna go there again.


And so it goes....


The rinky tinky cell phone rattled across the kitchen counter.....vibrating over imported stone....crawling towards the end of the world...the inevitable crash. "I'll take it" I said, volunteering to both rescue the little thing from it's near death and to finalize our plans to meet up with friends in a little bit. And like all good volunteers, I followed instructions, slipped out the backdoor where there was "reception"....


One step out the door, two steps out from under the awning and then, on the third step, the last step, I fell off the earth. In the moonlight, I watched my falling from grace from somewhere high. "Watch your foot" I whispered to myself galloping in midair....And so she, me, tucked her right foot back, knee to chin, and dove Mark Spitz style over the ledge, left shin tracing, banging, skiing as we flew over the ledge, then the next ledge, and the next.....Courthouse steps I was never expecting, and then finally....the bottom....where the rock was finally flat. I kissed the floor quick. And unexpected. Chin, lips, nose. The sound of tiny tea cups shattering. And when the noise stopped, I knew.

I had barracuda teeth....

Today they sort of look like tiny pieces of chicklet gum. Strung across my smile.

But I'm smiling.

Miracles.

They blow me away....

Shortly after this could have been fatal fall, my handsome blue eyed baby boy, now bigger than his Daddy, was speared by the unexpected shattering of a 4 by 8 foot plate glass mirror, shearing his calf and severing both arteries and the major tendons, nerves, and muscles to his foot. His Father held on to him for life....a red sprinkler christening them both. Blue eyes locked into blue eyes. Waiting.

It's tomorrow now. The surgeries are over. There's a pulse.

And with my jack-0-lantern smile, I kiss him good night....

And believe.....

Saturday, July 11, 2009

This House Believes

Sometimes I see things...
Faces...mermaids...faeries...
Out of the corner of my eyes,
for a flash, an instance...

Or maybe, sometimes....
Things see me....

Photos taken last night at our little Hippie Slumber Party. These are the walls and windows to Kimbies world....

Steam trapped forever, frozen in a glass box at the bathroom window...And we all saw it...

A delightful painting of an English Garden, tucked behind glass in a Victorian frame....
And we all saw it...

The Faces....

We weren't haunted. We weren't afraid.
We danced.
Drank beer.
Told stories.
Cried.
In their company...

And somehow I'm sure, so did they....
In ours....

Sunday, July 05, 2009

At the Matinee

The last time I was going to be a ballerina, I clunked through all the closets, dug through the drawers, pilfered through old suitcases and found one....just one...tattered pink shoe. I pirouetted out into the living room, spinning madly to Jethro Tull, and my daughter, eyes barely lifting off the book she was reading, muttered..."Ma, you can't do that anymore, you'll break your foot". I never quit twirling.

And of course, I was in surgery, three days later. And still in a cast three months later.

Today, I was a ballerina again. On my own private stage, the heavily wooded curtains hiding me from the audience in the red velvet chairs. The wind an orchestra....the sun a spotlight shining only on me...

Sometimes we just have to believe....

And keep on dancing....

Saturday, July 04, 2009

Running Away....

Today, I'm pretending. All day. I decided that before I fell asleep last night, so I wouldn't have to wonder about it at all this morning.

I woke up to bedhead hair that's now half way down my waist, make-believe dreadlocks the colors of a drip castle at sunrise. I stood up and stretched, slowly padded through the house, the old cold congoleum covered in cat hair, sudden beach sand on terraza floors. I smiled.

In a little while I'm gonna whip up Bloody Mary's, ice cold and freckled with black pepper and then on the little splintered deck, I'm going to the Tiki Bar...the tinny sound of Rolling Stones dribbling from the little amfm radio will fill the Air....Amps the size of Winnebagos will hang from the sky, and for a little while, there won't be anything at all but the music and the movement and the moment.

When the Sun reaches Noon thirty, blazing, I'll bop over the ring of the blow up pool and fall face first into the ocean....A giant salty tidal pool just my size. When I open my eyes underwater, the coquina will be six inches deep, thousands of teeny tiny shells....a treasure chest under the sea. My little pink float will be a peace kayak, and I'll paddle out of my puddle and down to the river where the water runs up, up, up and away....

At dusk, I'll drape my long flowy girly swirly hippie dress over my head and fall asleep on the hammock, barefeet dangling in the overgrown grass, that for just one night, will be wild sea oats tickling my toes.

I'll dream paisley colored thoughts until the light show in the sky nudges me awake...an electrical parade just for me....

Peace....sometimes we just have to make it happen.....

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Fairytwinkle Soup and Other Short Stories...

I remember when Skinny was little and she used to run away. She'd have on the same little dress she wore for years and a quickly swiped pack of gum, maybe a marble or sidewalk chalk ,and she'd hit the trail. Long legs flying, hair dancing in the wind. And she never looked back. Not once.

Eventually, we'd have to go and fetch her. Find her in the cubby of an oak tree limb...periously dangling over traffic, or squatting at the lake edge, stirring the brown water with a magic stick....

And so it goes that we all grow up, grow old, and forget how to runaway....We pack electric toothbrushes, cell phone chargers, cowboy boots and crayons. Bayer aspirin, cold packs, and dirty laundrey. We take it all with us....

And then some.

Next year, I'm going Naked.