poems.

insecurity:

insecurity was at the front door ringing the bell again
barrrrring
he didn’t always ring
there are times he waited patiently between polite knocks. walking away after seeing me peer through the upstairs drapes. acknowledging but not embracing his presence.
there were still other times, between heavy breath pants, his fist was anything but patient. i would run, ripping my trousers, he’d offer a patch, and we’d chat for a spell.
and of course there are those times he didn’t even bother with the formality of acting like I wouldn’t let him in – he’d barge through the front door, jacket billowed, hips swiveled, eyes beveled, zeroing in on his only client – knowing I’d be in the closet on the third floor. waiting for his story.

the back screen porch had no door – didn’t matter. there are times i needed him more and the drama of running, helped warp the bore of looking at my core and knowing my scars as only sores- i needed ointment and a band aide not ointment and story.
could i outsmart his knowledge of me, push him on the front lawn. get him out.

today, today, when the ringing penetrated my normalcy of lunch at the kitchen table, a turkey sandwhich and an apple, nothing feeling like it was going to spiral, i ran to the door, turned the knob and if it hadn’t been for him leaning in the jamb, i was inviting him in.
‘come on in. yes, you. no, i will not run. what’s that you say? act like its whose fault?, run, duck, then feel the rage as you clasp my hands in irrational bliss? um, it’s so tempting. no, let me think. maybe a taste. i did what wrong, he saw who where?

i knew it. :he had me: his trick was to create power from weakness and misunderstanding. his existence needed my suspension of reality that others share and to reach in my cluster of jadedness, acted out scenarios on endless reels of celluloid, visible to me and no one else. my drugs, my creation, my addictions, my mirror, my survival, my feelings – all gifts from him. i pushed back, turned and walked towards the table, sensing the desire for another bite from my sandwich. he followed, I sat down, he sat down, he opened his mouth, i tasted the turkey, he spoke of doubts, i wiped my mouth, he got closer and planted his seed, my hand picked up the apple, he spun a situation that was meant to destroy, i crushed through the apple tasting the bitterness of the core, he stood up and said he didn’t need me, i sat uneasy, he turned around, i looked straight ahead, he walked out the door, i finished my lunch.

after that he still came around from time to time, but we found a new respect. he became a piece in my psychic puzzle that humbled my ego. he wasn’t there to torture my soul. he was around to be sure I saw whole.

sleeping:
i was awakened by the clickity clack of the remotes as they made their way up and down the valley that we created with last nights fast moving glacier – no million years needed to change our landscape – just two words. two words. two lumps of chemicals exchanging elements with the world.  a fjord left holding our go go gadget arms that control our contact with the outside world.

i prefer the nights when we form an island. exchanging elements with one another to survive, an ocean of thoughts surrounding us, rising with each inhale of one anothers existence – tectonic shifts pushing us higher – and then, i am awakened by your ‘ouch’ when i roll over on your hair. you roll away. and i pick up the clickity clack remotes left in the valley. 

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