December Theme, a Trifle Late

December Walking
The air outside is so cold
it makes me cough with my first breath.
walking the three blocks home I
feel myself shrinking from the frigid wind
hunkering down in my fur-lined coat
wishing I could slither inside my skin
or underneath the matted snow
and hibernate like the gophers do
with full bellies and dreams of spring.
The ice is thick and tricky beneath my feet
one wrong step and I will fall
I wish for the gracefulness and ease
of a skater showing off on a frozen lake
but instead I shuffle along with the tiny, skittering steps
of someone just trying to get home.
I cross silent streets of white
climb up mountains and down again
take tiny comfort in the steam of my breath against the scarf covering my face
twitch my tingling fingers so they won't go numb
and useless as twigs
then the keys are in my fumbling grasp
the lock gives on the first try
my
door is open and warmth is there to hold me.
I unfurl, I grow tall and languorous
with relish and relief
I stretch, I jump and spin, kick off my caked boots and dance on the air
I preen and purr like a cat.
Then I sink into the comfort
of feeling human again.

Someone Else's Childhood Memory

It’s not you; it’s me
I’m the one
That needs the work
Forgive me
I shall be myself in a few days

Climbing
Shouting
Anxiety
Bills
Cream

It’s all about the cream
That Damn cream
Everything doesn’t have to be about the whipped cream
Or does it?
Why can’t I have a normal life?

Waiting in line
For an oil change
Came across a little café
We were hungry
So we thought we would grab some lunch

I’ll have a salami sandwich on rye
He’ll have a bowl of your soup du jour
Why are you ordering for him miss?
I don’t know
Habit I guess

He would also like
Your crème burlee
With extra whipped cream
I do?
You always want the whipped cream

I do not
You do too
Can I just order my own damn meal?
You don’t love me anymore
You used to always let me take care of you

There were no kids
Just the car
That was broken
And the salami sandwich and soup du jour
And that whipped cream

Creamy chowder with biscuits
And tomato enchiladas with cheese
You should watch your cholesterol intake
I want you to be around with me until I die
Who says I wouldn’t?

Your diet says you wouldn’t
Says who?
Cheese? Whipped Cream?
You’re the one who ordered the whipped cream!
I was just trying to please you!

Can I get you anything else?
A beer?
A glass of wine?
Oh we don’t drink here
Says who?

I would like a drink
I would like a whiskey
The hard stuff
It’s the only way I’m going to tolerate
The rest of the afternoon

And the bill
For the car
God I don’t want to know how much that
Bill
Will be

I Used to Be a Team Player

Wishy-washy whines:

"When is this thing due again?"

Skull versus brick wall.

A night of spoken word poetry

He spouts poetry
liquid rhymes that slip through teeth
so fast you can't blink

It's January 31, 2010

Have I accomplished any of my said resolutions yet?
Not a damn one

Am I proud of myself?
Absolutely.

That's what February is for
January is just
Too damn cold
To do anything
Remotely
Productive
In the state of
Minnesota

Here's to a productive and happy February, all.
And when Maki gets back from Vegas
He not only will have stories to tell
But hopefully new poem topics as well.

Little Bobby

With the success of his Sicilian defense

Trickling down to a late fourth quarter lead

Bobby the Brat turns on the full-court press

While Shy Sam can only muster a whimper

And yet

Sam swallows the lump in his throat

Wipes the sweat from his brow

His shaking hand moves his own queen

To destabilize Bobby the Bastard’s foundation

The audacity

Puts Bobby the Bellicose on edge

Foaming like a feral beast

Anger steams from his head

Veins throb over forehead and through eyeballs

Bobby the Bold bobs his rook into place

To attack Sam’s king

However

The usual cold, calculating child

Has left his flank wide open

Sam senses the shift

Can taste the temporary opportunity

With nimble digits he dismantles Bobby the Brash’s rook

Rancor emerges from the other side of the table

The crowd

Once dispersed and horrified but still watching

Like they could see the oncoming slaughter

But now

Sacrosanct Sally circles around

Recalling how Bobby the Blasphemer mocked Christ

In reading class last week

She is silently praying for retribution from her savior

And Tater Tot Todd

Cannot help but let loose a tentative yip!

Recollecting stolen lunch money on tater tot Thursdays

In fact, the crowd has silently developed a life of its own

Even parents cross fingers

Hoping for the dethroning of Bobby the Bully

And sure enough

After the mustering of his pawns

And the skilled control of his queen

Shy Sam is able to trap Bobby the Belligerent’s king

And claim a comeback kid victory

Infused with the enthusiasm from the crowd

Sam is swept off his feet

They chant

Sam!

Sam!

Wham!

Bam!

Thank you Sam!

What a nice ending to the story huh?

Sam forever is enshrined as the one

Who took down Bobby the Booger

We all lived vicariously through his young heart

His sweaty hands

And what of Bobby?

Bobby will grow up to be a mass murderer

A loner who picks people out from crowds

Because they look like Shy Sam

Like Sacrosanct Sally and Tater Tot Todd

Because they look like you and me

So

Still happy Sam won?