Black and Blue

Okay, Eric, we absolutely have to stop talking and drawing in come-true circles......

So tonight, when I went bolting out the door, hippie love child on the run, because Kimbies called me, and needed me....and she rarely ever asks for help....

I flew into her drive-way like super sib

and we clanked a beer, she in her jamma's and me in my dirty jeans, on the front porch, and put on our "everything's gonna be okay" faces and went to face the troops....

We had to smile first, to gain the strength, the ammo, the "we can do this if we have to"....

And it was then,
at the last second, when I was ("yes, she was jumping up and down") pantomining the precious little magpie fairies I spent the day with Saturday, that I lept up in the air just so.....("yes, she was acting like a four year old") and landed, firecracker pop, to my foot, my shin, my "oh my God, I'm going to throw up"...("Yes , she turned white as a ghost, but never cried, shook, but never cried") and ("Yeah, we had to get a bucket") ...

And it was then,
that poor Kimbie"s hell week
took a nose dive on the living room carpet
with
super sib
crumbled
and
white....
And then
that they called the good doctor, the blessed man I work for, and said....
"Should we meet you at the emergency room or the office?"

It's midnight now, and God bless Kimbies and her commotion, I wasn't any help. And Chey and her own private hell, for driving two towns over to click the x-ray button, hold the bucket, and mix the plaster. And The Boss for always being there. And my precious child for being home from college and being ballet strong enough to pick her Mama up and tote her over the threshold.

"Nuts and bolts" he said.
"And we can put you back together"

Arrrrrggggghhhhhh!

You don't have to keep hittin' me in the head!

Ahhhh,
I slept in....
the first time in forever that I've wallowed in the sheets, soaking up 8 hours of almost dreamless sleep. It's a lazy, lazy world today.....

I sipped my coffee strong and slow, and filled the cup again. Watched the smoke patterns dancing from my cigarette, sky-writing in the space above the ashtray. I stretched. "What sweet diversion shall I come up with today?"......

And so, unshowered, and bed-headed I found my way to my favorite morning place, the painted porch. Parked my little buns down on the floor, indian style, amongst the sea of colored markers and pencils....and started to color.....

"Peace....", I smiled at the black and white lady on paper.....

That was right before the perfectly good bike flew off the perfectly sound wall and cold-cocked me in the face. Right before the collision sent my cup of iced tea flying across my lap, spray painting my drawing with caffiene and lining my cut-offs with ice cubes. Right before I saw stars...... Right before my neighbor pulled the bike off of me and slung it out the door like a rabid rattlesnake.....

That was one minute before my nose started bleeding. Five minutes before the fuscia eggs started growing on my forehead, one hour before the black-eye started staring back at me in the bathroom mirror.

I guess I won't be going out tonight....

And as for the bad, bad bike, well, Take that! My friend! You better hope it doesn't rain!

The crash

She knows. I’m floating, dreaming, basking in the quiet. I forget that lawn mowers, power drills, kid’s riding three-wheelers up plywood ramps, are screaming into my quiet. I block them out. In my world, I hear the fat-bellied-bumble bee at the all-you-can-eat, slurping down the jasmine….the moth in her nightgown taking out the trash….the wind... talking sign language.... hands moving furiously through the trees…..

But, Georgia hears them.

From miles and miles away.

Hears them put on their suits and load their gear. Climb into the truck, Flip the switch.

And she bellows, the most pathetic heart wrenching howl.

She crouches on the deck and cries, neck stretched mannequin-tight to the sky, and belts out…..
The saddest opera.

And then I know.

It’s bad.

It’s not a ticket-taker chasing a 16 year old taking the car to the store for bread.

It’s bad.

My heart stops.
My child, it could be my child.

I crank my car everyday.
I never hear it turn over, lunge with life.
I hear the Rolling Stones.
Or Led.
Or Janis.
Or whoever will get me through the day.
But I can’t hear that,
The siren song.

I drive on…..

I crossed the bridge today. The very bridge I’ve dreamed about tearing down. Swimming under. Climbing over. The very bridge I pass everyday, music blasting, barely rolling. Parked in the early morning traffic, I was at the top of the ferris wheel and could see it all. The end of the world.

Thank God, the music was blaring…..
Or I might have bellowed….
Neck stretched mannequin-tight to the sky……
and howled...

Pray, people, pray….

The accidental wave.....

I am enchanted with water. Crystal glass-eyed blue water, thick murky lake water, green river water with swirling paisley oil slicks. Cold and hard from the outside faucet. Bee-sting sharp, stabbing my back and temples from the broken shower head. An ice cold beer bath from the thick and foamy tides.

I love the sounds water makes. Every drop of crème- rinsed rain racing, gurgling, slurping down the bathtub drain. Invisible spray paint pssssshhhing from the sprinkler. The lions roar on an empty beach…her yawning, stretching lazy growl heard a million miles away…..endless. Saturday afternoon skies, dripping off my leaning roof. Running down the back door. Falling from my face.

It’s delicious” I said…..goose bumps spreading like a rampant rash down my arms and legs.
“Ha!” “I don’t believe you”
“It looks …………….cold”, smiling a little, but afraid to smile too much, certain I would pull him in.

And in the deep, deep water
We
Might just drown…..