Hey. We need to talk.

Do you remember where you were the afternoon of November 3, 2015? At approximately 1:07pm?

Because I sure do.

You were in a crowded cafe, as rain poured outside and early 90s rock music played inside. You wore a tailored business suit, carried a brief case, and were clean shaven. You appeared to be a mature, intelligent adult.

But then you strolled up to the overworked cashier and spat out “spicy tuna salad on chocolate chip, please” as your order.

That was pretty fuckin’ weird.

I was the customer behind you. You probably don’t remember me — given that this was nearly three years ago, we never spoke, and I ordered a forgettable sesame bagel with plain, low-fat cream cheese.

How ya doin’, buddy?? Can I call you buddy? I thought about you a lot since that fateful day we almost met.

I’ve turned your decision over and over in my mind and have come up with only one logical explanation: you were trying to teach me a lesson.

Or lessonS, rather.

Here’s what I learned:

Never be afraid to ask for what you want. No one’s gonna just hand you a promotion, a day off, or a dollop of spicy salt water fish on sugary bread.

Be confident in knowing your own desires. Don’t settle for cream cheese when you’re really craving canned mackerel.

Get creative! Life is to short to solely mimic what others have done before you. It’s a vast world out there, filled with many protein choices and baked vessels to pair them with. Go out and explore!

Life is like a chocolate chip bagel with spicy tuna salad. Some parts are sweet, some parts are stinky, and some parts are gaping empty holes. Oh and it’ll probably make you gassy.

Don’t worry about what other people may think of you. So what if the neurotic girl behind you in the cafe line will judge you, waking up in a cold sweat for hundreds of consecutive days, remembering your actions and finally deciding on day number 935 to self-publish an essay about it? Not your problem.

Thank you for these incredible teachings, oh great one! You took a peculiar route to instill this knowledge in me but I respect it.

…or maybe you just really like mayo with chocolate? Sicko.

SHADOW BIRD

Shadow Bird, a nickname she gave herself, partly from envy, partly from reality, but mostly from her love for her dearest friend, Flamingo.

They were friends, but as different as night to day, light to dark, pink to gray. Shadow Bird was short and walked with her head close to the ground. Flamingo was tall with long wiry legs, neon pink feathers, and a graceful neck upon which set a distinctly regal face. Shadow Bird’s feathers were a darker hue, dark almost black.

When they walked, Flamingo always led the way. They agreed that this made sense. Being taller, Flamingo could see further down the path. Shadow Bird felt safe knowing that her friend was constantly surveying the terrain. Shadow Bird could see the shadow of Flamingo’s head jutting to the left, then to the right, watchful, and forever vigilant.

Flamingo leading the way meant that Shadow Bird always walked in the shadow of her colorful friend. Although Shadow Bird loved her friend, there were times when she would look up from her view of the ground to watch her friend’s bouncy pink feathers and wish that she could be more like Flamingo. She wished that she could occasionally take the lead.

Being young and not yet flyers, they did not ascribe to the adage that only birds of a feather should flock together. Indeed, they loved their differences as much as their similarities. It was their uniqueness which made them fit so well together, like pork and beans, rice and gravy, and forbid the thought, bacon and eggs. Whatever it was, they felt their best when they were together, which was just about all the time, from the crack of dawn to the end of light. As Flamingo once quipped, you had to crack a few dawns to make a great life.

“The butt crack of dawn,” Shadow Bird quipped back, looking up. She loved seeing her friend’s feathers blush to a rosier shade of pink.

Each Monday they made the long trek up the Wahoo Trail to the flight center for training. “Try not to panic today,” Flamingo would cautioned her friend knowing that Shadow Bird was often in a state of panic when the instructor forced her up the ladder before pushing her off the platform.

“And you, try not to cry when he tells you to spread your wings and not kick your legs like a chicken.”

All the way up the Wahoo Trail they would chide and joke with each other. And all the way back after the exhausting training they would comfort and support each other. For instants: “Even if you did plow head first into that telephone pole, it really wasn’t your fault, you just need to keep your eyes open when you try to fly” and “If he hadn’t pushed you so hard, I’m sure you wouldn’t have crashed into that glass greenhouse,” and “I’m sorry that he kept screaming at you to pull your neck in when you swooped and looped.”

“Walk faster,” Flamingo always urged her short friend. “You know we’re only safe at night in our very own nest.

“I’m walking as fast as I can,” Shadow Bird would answer. She had to take three steps to her taller friend’s one. She had to speed walk just to stay in the shade of her friend’s shadow. Once she confided to her friend how she both envied her, but appreciated her being the leader. And that she sometimes wished that she could lead the way.

One afternoon they left the flight training center later than usual, as always they enjoyed their walk; that is until the sky darkened, lightening flashed, thunder roared, and the sky swallowed the sun

“Fried eggs!” Flamingo exclaimed as the sky burst open and the rains poured down with a roar, with thunder crashing like cymbals, the wind swirling and whistling, tossing her feather into a crazy pink salad of anxiety. “Oh my!” Flamingo moaned and groaned, as Shadow Bird paced in little circles of fear and dread seeing her friend so dismayed and worried.

“We’ll be chased by cats!” – “Barked at by dogs!” - “Nibbled by squirrels!” They chirped these phrases back and forth to one another, creating catastrophic verbalizations, little tornadoes of apocalyptic whirlwinds of words.

Flamingo gave in to her fears and sat on the curbed with her long wiry legs arched, her beak on her knees, and her wings wrapped around her head. Shadow Bird continued pacing furtively in circles until she fell backward in exhaustion.

“I can’t see an inch in front of me. All is lost, we’re doomed for sure, we better make peace with the great eagle in the sky,” Flamingo said. “Without my vision and foresight, we will never find our way back to our nests.”

Shadow Bird struggled for breath as she listened to her friend’s frantic chirping. Then she shot straight up, her wings flapping rapidly as never before. “Be quiet!” she exclaimed. “I can lead us home.”

“You can barely see above a blade of grass, not that anyone can see in this storm!”

“Precisely,” Shadow Bird replied. “You have vision, but I know the lay of the land. Your head is above it all, but my eyes are always on the ground. You see the terrain, but I know the terrain.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you see? I’ve walked the Wahoo Trail a thousand times in your shadow, I have no fear of not being able to see ahead.” She stood and puffed her chest out and said proudly: “I’m one with the earth. I know the shape and feel of every pebble, every blade of grass, every twist and turn.”

“Really?” Flamingo asked.

“I do pay attention, you know. Here,” Shadow Bird said and turned. “All you have to do is hold on to my tail feathers and I’ll lead the way.”

And so she did. Down the path, up the hill, and around every bend they went. And once again, the two friends’ differences complimented each other. When they were safely near their nests, Flamingo surmised: “On a clear day, vision is dandy, but during a storm, having a grip on reality is pretty damn handy.”

Simple.

I'd go back

to that first night

when I though you were too good to be true

and you thought the same about me.

Back

to when I would spend an hour getting ready

and you would show up

an hour early.

Back

to when I would tell

anyone who would listen

all about you

and you would live up

to the advance press.

Back

to that first night

when we both felt

we had found it all.

~~

@triciamccallum

#redheadedpoet

www.triciamccallum.com

Ascend these soldiers, their wings

Are called for humble graces, my kings

Shatter goblets and countries, all likely

A blithe performance, certainly

Our Prince Reaper’s harvest growing

Devil taps a nail, song spun on bone

And down, down descend the soldiers so

Quarrel flocks like murders flown

On wings, wings of steel and oak

Yet Murder! Murder! some village somewhere sings

Far off, death’s still a tragedy

And up, up and up that body floats

Light as feathers in powdered smoke

Punctured steel and sinew rends

Life like life casts itself in pints

There they march, brave souls

Romanticizing stupidity and casualty

Ascend these soldiers, their wings

Tire and dread their marching, my kings

Dismantle borders and throats, all likely

A blithe performance, certainly

Our Prince Reaper’s harvest growing

Imp tracks like infantry soles,

Souls sewn up in taut sacks of thousands

Thank the ephemeral ghosts don’t decompose

Else Hell’d be an insufferable home

I’ll have your head, but may I take your coat?

Yet Thief! Thief! some city somewhere sings

Far off, this arrest’s a fantasy

And up, up and up that body swings

A thief dressed up with final prayers

Silences the crowd with stuttered feet

And crow croaking as his bough creaks

An elegy fit for kings

look mama see daddy, look daddy see mama

Look! what I wrote a beautiful poem for u on my beautiful wrists

I used a razor for a pen, i tried to say it out loud but you wouldn't listen, so I signed my name in blood but you wouldn't read it too.

how can I get your attention?

When ur too busy with your obsession, trying to get a confession out of something I didn't do. why won't u listen?, trying to make your creation the definition of your perfection but oh mama my condition immensely needs your affection.

Look mama see daddy, look daddy see mama

Feel mama understand daddy, Feel daddy understand mama

Understand! It was never your fault, I didn't ask you hard enough to listen, I learned my lesson, I cant express my reasons, I feel like I'm in a prison of hidden feelings beneath feelings I created the distance, please forgive my annoyance, I didn't ask you hard enough to listen. Hope you leaned your lesson

Goodbye mama farewell daddy, Goodbye daddy farewell mama.

I've broken into an age of televised sedation.

I wonder, can it treat the agitation of my untouched skin?

There is an irritation in my aortic valve 

that is preventing the delivery of blood to my misplaced body.

My bloodless stomach scoffs at me.

My tongue laughs but refuses to entertain sweetness.

My spirit, 

which had outgrown its casing,

is being carelessly shoved back into its shell;

the very shell that feels the need to crumble like thin shelves of sandstone

on a canyon wall.

Was it foolish of me to have placed the cure into the hands of a ghost?

Especially when the hands themselves are equally as haunting--

they taunt me with sub-images and nearly-felt sensations. 

From afar, the universe had dazzled me with promises of romance and adventure.

As I now drift solo into its expanse, I discover its true nature. 

So this happened,

someone cared for

me for being

me. Who knew the

ideal would

become real. I

never believed.

And I missed out…

Lull before the strength

when the hue begins

to change ...

tranquil state,

waiting for the purge

of painful memories.

Placid only for a moment

until disturbance descends,

hearing in the distance

the outcry of

violent whirlwinds.

I quietly tear,

whispering ...

"purify and refine

this heart

of mine" ...

I swear I was born

with a deformity.

I've always had

a glass heart ...

I hate it.

I wished not to feel

but failed every time ...

It's all smudged up

cracks and scratches

It's like an antique ...

Past around from hand

to hand.

Now,

left on a shelf to collect dust,

the longer it sits

left untouched

the more fragile

it becomes ...

Be careful your wishes

just might come true .