I married once...

He kept asking. Over pink champagne at New Years. Slurping raw oysters and leaning over pool tables. Doing the helicopter dance on Friday nights. He just kept asking. And one night, over steaks and an HBO re-run, I said OK and we picked a date.

Of course, it was a catastrophe. The pony-tailed redneck and I, but what the hell, we loved to dance, he was a great cook, I was a starving artist and....

he had her...."Baby Dumplin'".....And I fell in love with her hopelessly, and forever, and instantly. My first born daughter, seven, blonde hair ~long and tangled, cheese curl toes, and green eyes.

In the third grade, she had to draw a family tree for art class. The teacher called me. I still have it tucked away, it's roots wild and scattered, it's limbs heavy and old, and names hanging everywhere, like wild laundrey whisped from it's line.....the intricate scribblings of a child....connecting the dots between the people she was born to, and those she was fated to.

Tonight, I dug it out, and saw what she saw....the endless constellation of dots...

What is and what is meant to be....

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….

Eighteen today

I wear love beads and I believe...




Some things never change…..

Dear John....

Once upon a time….

I lived another life. I dressed up and paraded around in pointy toed high heels and wore perfumed matching pantsuits and pretended to be an Administrator. And then I woke up one day, hacking and coughing from the Channel #5, with bunions on my toes, and pulled my T-shirts out of the closet and my love beads out of my bra…and said “This is Me…”

He didn’t fire me.

He cringed a little. Grimaced, maybe. Feigned annoyance in my direction. Held his breath and prayed it would pass.

It didn’t.


Once upon a time…
You lived another life.
That was then and now is now.

Cringe a little. Grimace. Feign a little annoyance in my direction. Hold your breath and pray it will pass.

It won’t.

You’ve danced in the kitchen…..