first love
When the world was an endless spread of dandelions in a vacant lot with the sweet summer grass higher than my shoulders, we walked together hand in hand, alone in our own enchanted world.
Daises sprinkled like stars over soft shorn lawn that resembled the sparkling stars at night as we lay on our backs in the cool summer night, counting the shooting stars whizzing through the heavens.
Aurora with her rosy fingers painted the light show in the far north which keep the sky lit with a shimmering glow until nearly midnight.
What more could a girl want?
"When I'm a man, I'll marry you."
Words never forgotten.
We played hide-and-seek and kick-the-can and all those things kids share, but the love was always there, growing as rambling rose trailing along a fence, binding life together and making the fence withstand the weather.
He moved; I moved, like pawn to bishop across the squares of life.
He proposed the toast before the crowd of many:
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds.."*
wrapt his glass about my arm and promised once again with a complete supporting cast.
Words written, treasured and shared.
Secrets he knew from dreams. Like a wizard he was uncannily aware.
I found him in a rocking chair, bound in a rigid corset—to keep his spine aligned. Look, don't cry, I can walk. besides the real pain is inside. The pain that nobody speaks; the pain behind the eyes, the fear inside the heart.
I was worried. I had a dream. you were raped, weren't you? Bastard I could kill him.
But you did the right thing—you survived.
Listen to me. I work with convicts, with criminals. I go to the prisons to work with inmates. It's how I earn money.
Promise me, that you'll never fight. You haven't a chance if you do. It's a threat to their ego, their masculinity and nothing more they want is control, so if you fight, they'll kill you.
Play dead.
Be apathetic.
Wait.
Be patient.
Be very patient.
When he thinks he has control and you act passive, he will lose focus.
He will be confident of his control and then at that point will be caught off guard.
Be patient because, at that point he will lower his guard.
You can escape.
But promise me, you'll never fight, because you'll never surivive.
And this other business with Don? It's nothing, isn't it? He doesn't respect you much. It's just gossip, empty chatter. You're too smart for him. He would have failed physics class if you hadn't done his homework for him. You deserve something better.
So I sat at on the floor and listened with my back resting on his hard legs.
So many years; so much pain, a fractured spine, a broken life…
and still I never forgot the words.
Not even when I found him hung over in a shack littered by newspapers and comic books..
The town was so small that only his name directed to me his hole.
Yet the billboards blared his name in screaming neon lights.
Sprawled over a rotting mattress on the floor, he didn't acknowledge me.
To talk to somebody, get on the level.
So I lowered myself to the debris on the floor.
It's not like this in fairytales—Gerda gets her man. She travels to the ends of the universe and redeems him from the icy killing grip of the Snow Queen.
The bus had a schedule. He didn't care.He lay on the floor cursing the stars like a tormented JB.
So far out of my way, so many miles—the bus had a schedule; I had a ticket and many miles to go.
So many miles and hours behind me. The daisy wreaths and chains we wove, the promises lay broken, scattered over an unkempt vacant lot of time.
Yet fields are filled with daisies made from shooting stars from heaven, scattered over soft shorn meadow grass, but the rambling roses on the fence have long been dead—their wooden tendrils clinging to broken fragments of ancient history.
The words I never forget.
* Shakespeare, Sonnet 116
http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/116.html
Morning Traffic Report
"Damn, late." Mark flicked his watch, swore at the black leather motorcyclist, bobbing about his car and stared down the long crowded road. No way would he cut through the parking-lot ahead. Why didn't he leave earlier. Oh yeah, Tina needed that extra past on her head. Another morning temper-tantrum, interrupting his path out the door. Bozo broke his leash, chasing the neighbor's cat up a tree. The cat was okay, snarling and spitting from its safe perch. Bozo with his insistant third-degree murder yapping, had killed the neighbor's prize tulips and was now raising the loud alarm for police intervention. The neighbor snapped up his window in an angry bang to shout profanities at the loose dog.
Mark obligingly climbed over the fence, tearing his suit trousers on a ragged nail jutting from a post. He felt the cool air tickle his thigh as the cloth gave way in a tender rip. Effing dog, why didn't Sally take him out in the morning. It was her dog anyway, and he hated scruffy mutts like yapping terriers. Why couldn't she have something real? Like a noble Doberman. Dobermans didn't behave like that. They had class and intelligence and a sense of dignity.
The light turned yellow, he gunned the intersection and felt a heavy thud. Batman flew away on his classy shiny black Harley, weaving through the packed cars ahead: an eel in a sardine tin.
The car lurched as Mark shut off the engine. What next? The traffic light dangled overhead, now screaming red. Angry faces surrounded the driver's window as fists pounded on it.
"Get out," shouted a voice.
Mark stared at the intersection, sighed and looked at his watch. All hell would break lose now. Torn trousers. Damn the dog. He checked his watch, picked up his mobile, "I'm late."
Thud.
One moment she was walking and the next thud. Even witches had broomsticks. Angels fly. Did she sprout wings? No. Test the legs. Can they move? Legs, where are you. Brain connect to legs. She twitched, rubbed her toe against the pavement. That's good. Where the hell was she? This wasn't no bed of feathers. Cautiously she turned her head, spread-eagled on the ground with her arms outstretched to eternity. Where were the damn glasses? She couldln't see without them. Could somebody just please help her find the damn glasses?
Could she move? Man that hurt. Slowly she focused on the level world about her. What happened?
"Hilfe mir!" she squeaked in an ineffective choke, so she squawked a bit louder like a chicken on it's way through the processor. "Hilfe mir!" Still weak. Nothing happened. No magic fairy dust or fairy godmother appeared. Slowly, she rolled over, dragging her leg over her side. Now to get up. How? She couldn't remember. It was so long ago that she learned to crawl that she couldn't remember how to stand.
What was she doing on the ground?
Where was she?
Why the hell ws she speaking German?
Where were the damn glasses. She couldn't even go to the toilet without the glases. Without them how could she get a proper perspective on the thing.
A pair of long legs towered over her. "Ma'am, you've been hit, but you flew like an angel. But Lordy knows, this aint heaven. "
That was useful information. At least it explained the horizontal position.
"Where am I?"
"Right square plop in the center of Fourth and Pine."
"That's nice. Can you find my glasses? I can't see without them. Be nice to get a little view on this little matter."
The long legs trundled away and obligingly returned. A long arm reached down and placed the spectacles in her outreached hand. "There you are, ma'am."
Sure enough, the glasses helped.
"Can you help me get up?" she asked tentatively. "I don't seem to remember how to sit up any longer? It's like I can't remember where my legs are."
"Well, they're still attached to you. You did a beautiful dive that shoulda taken the Olympic Gold," the gruff voice answered. The knees slowly bent into creases like a construction crane lowering its platform.
"You could use some help for sure." A friendly face lowered to her level and large hands brushed over her head carefully. "Let's just do things slowly. You think you can sit up?"
"Yes… but I don't remember how?"
"That's okay. I think I can help you there."
"We just do it very slowly 'cuz nobody know where you been hurt."
Janet struggled and grasped the man's arms as he lifted her to a sitting position. She struggled to knees to stand.
"You wanna stand?"
"Yes, " Janet replied. It's not normal to lay in the street. Isn't it better to be on the sidewalk? Isn't that where I should be?"
"Well, yes, Normally, but this aint no-ways normal."
"What happened?"
"Dunno. This here red Ferrari was making fast moves and driving like Batman. Done run you down. Guess he was talking on the phone or godwhat, but you got lucky. That car so low on the ground, it just done sweep you off your feet like a Fred Astaire move on the dance floor."
Where the hell were her shoes? What was she doing walking about town in her bare feet?
"Better be careful here, there's some splattered bits of glass."
"Hey dude, can you find this lady's shoes?"
"Now you just be still. You're a wee bit tottery. I'll hold you a bit while you get used to those stems you're standing on."
"You're a bit twirly, there. Only the top of the Space Needle goes in whirls. We'd better get you to the side and set you down. You aint stable nohow."
Janet obliged. Nothing to do but stumble along with the big man who was holding her up. Where the hell was her purse?
"Just take it slowly. That's it. one little step at a time. Doing good. You're one tough lady. Even Wonder Woman couldn't fly like that."
"That's it. Take it slow. I aint going nowhere for a while."
"You remember anything?"
Janet shook her head.
"Wasn't the light green?" she asked meekly?
"Yup, it was."
"Did I have a briefcase?"
"Yup, we'll find it. Might be under the car."
"Anything else you remember?"
"Just thud."
"Well, that happened, too. Thud."
"You remember anything before it?"
"No, not much. Only I was supposed to be at work."
"So was I," the black man replied. "So was I. And a bunch of other folks. Now they're all waiting for the cops to come to make their report and clean up the intersection and all that."
"Oh," said Janet, suddenly exhausted from everything. "I suppose I should sit down again."
"And that's all you remember? Just thud?"
"Thud," said Janet and sank to the ground. "Thud."
On Roses
Some roses are of rare perfume;
Yet others are armed with daggered swords;
Some are of impassioned hue
Bejewelled by diamond sparkling dew--
Fuschia bright before the pale day.
There are so many, I cannot say
The elegance, grace or form;
But for the price of choice,
I bought the hidden worm
(fr: Songs of a Peewee)
The Ballad of Johnny Severn
Once lived a lad in Danville Town
whose name was Johnny Severn.
His legs were long and shoulders strong;
He toiled in every weather.
Aye Johnny war a fair young lad
who sailed upon the sea.
"Oh mother dear ne'er be so sad,
and never fear for me."
"We fish the seas in howlin' gales
with furies that blast from hell,
they rip and shred our tattered sails
but nary worry as will come well."
He loved a lass whose name was Anne
her hair was woven sunlight
with lips of cherry wine
and eyes so filled with moonlight.
He loved her deep he loved her true
with every bone and sinew
and swore his faithful tribute
to heaven's eyes of blue.
They tarried long among the fields
exchanging sighs and telling lies.
Where harvesters reaped their yield,
they dallied under starlit skies.
Her windswept hair hung long as wheat;
they lay entwined within the grass
and made love with kisses sweet
His soul, he gave to the comely lass.
Alas his life lay on the sea
where men must fish to eat,
and many moons must he
be gone before again to meet.
Will you be mine alone to marry
when I return in spring?
Anne whispered sweet, "I promise here to tarry."
He hung upon her lily neck a chain with golden ring.
With fulsome heart and gladsome soul,
our Johnny took his leave
and never feared how cruel winds blow
or whether sweethearts grieve.
For seven months he faced his fate
as storm flayed skin and tattered sails.
He mended nets and buried a mate
when rats and scurvy took their toil.
In troubled dreams, he saw her face,
a vision more than fair.
Hung round his neck ,a string of lace
and kept a locket of her hair.
Seven months of brine and rats and lice
can send a man to hell.
With rations gone, the cook fried mice.
Besodden, the ship wallowed in swells.
With the changing of the seasons
they followed the good stream home
with cargo fit for a king's ransom
to Danville Town bathed in foam.
The ship she was a-leaking
in every rib of keel
and with her topsail breaking
and still they made her heel.
With aching arms and doughty hearts
they plied their wayward vessel
to Danville Town to disembark
and unladen their weary souls.
And in the hidden trouser pocket
now tangled with torn lace
Johnny kept the precious locket
and dreamt to caress Anne's gentle face.
His mother was working in the garden,
planting kale and stringing beans
with her skirts tucked up in the apron
and her shoes split at the seams.
"Goodness my boy, let's take a look at you,
How thing you've grown and old.
The sea's done take its toll, forsooth,
and hand so calloused and cold."
She spoke with pride as mothers do
when sons return home safe
and nary let the flickering fear cloud
the gladsome joy of her face.
"Will Annie come round tonight to sup?"
Johnny asked impatiently.
He stripped his shirt, began to wash
the crusty brine of a thousand seas.
"Ye all your time from now to eternity
to wait for your fair Anne.
She's gone away with a rich man's lackey
for lord's manor in the land."
"And nary a word she said to me
before she left the town.
A neighbor brought a packet wee
with your name writ large and round."
"So take your time and sit ye down,
much sadder things to say
than fickle maids in Danville Town
that breaks your heart today."
Once lived a lad in Danville Town
whose name was Johnny Severn.
His legs were long and shoulders strong;
He toiled in every weathern.
He loved her true, he loved her deep
with every bone and sinew.
With winter wind and sleet
her love had frozen, too.
Summer fields
Clouds unfurled, billowing and ebbing in the breezy navigation of pacific skies. Within the tall rye grass, skylarks twittered. With sudden bursts of warbled glory, they rocketed into the open field of sky. A field mouse rustled through the secret passages of unmown grass. Summer simmered and shimmered over rows and rows of withered barley hanging heads in somber submission of brutal global warming. A slim lizard wraith darted zigzag across an empty patch where it basked like a clay pot on an ancient stone oven. Cheery blue button flowers nodded their ragged lace caps lazily in agreement over weather conditions. "No rain today," they murmured to each other. The grass concurred in whispers, "No rain tonight or tomorrow and none soon forthcoming."
Who listens to weather reports in arid conditions when roots find no water despite how deep they delve.
The yellow-collared grass snake dozed, ignoring the buzz of insects overhead while glittering emerald damselflies fluttered and spread word of the sleeping dragon coiled in the grass below. The loud thump and thunder of pheasant rumbled across the plain as it shot into the sky: the solitary cannon in a long concluded war. Ranks and rows of barley hung heads in unconditional surrender. For them no crowning glory, no sweet taste or seething brew of drunken victory. For them, the brutal harvest came with the whirl of churning blades to chop and spit them back onto the ground to be buried for another bitter winter.
Hooves thundered and stumbled. A horse shrieked and recoiled tossing its rider aside.
The yellow-collared grass snake slithered quickly into the labyrinthal caverns leaving a wriggly script through dry barley. Momentarily it reappeared to inspect the danger.
"Never mind," whispered a ragged robin to the sand lizard, "It's only a clunsy human."
The lizard paused mid-flight arching its head over its long lean body with its tongue tasting the wind for airborne danger. Hesitating, it recoiled itself like a rubberband and stopped to watch.
The horse snorted, rid of its rider- with plenty of fodder at last it could eat dinner.
Eyes stared into a broad sky. Clouds drifted like migrants across the prairie seeking cheap day labor. They held no tears, no remorse, no joy-another day of boredom. A gaping mouth stifled a muffled cry for help. Motionless, the sun hung overhead.
The lizard crept back to his clay patch. The yellow-collared grass snake saw an opportunity for beneficial sleep and coiled itself on the still warm mound of soft riding leather.
Croaks of jackdaws rattled across the field. A dusty road twisted into the distant village. Somewhere a horse was missing in a barn or stable. A dog barked for dinner. A telephone rang unanswered. In another universe, another world, another obituary to be written.
For now, the yellow-collared grass snake slept contented. The horse kept munching and the lizard remained motionless on his bare clay patch, sunning himself while the crickets began vespers with a hushed humming