leap

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Show Me / The Pretenders
‘show me the meaning of the word
show me the meaning of the word
‘Cause I’ve heard so much about it
‘I don’t want to live without it
I don’t want to live without it’

for years my anthem, this poem was written to the tempo of this song
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leap
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clutching her hot coffee with both hands
wrapped around the styrofoam take out cup
trying as hard as she could to keep herself
warm against the autumn late afternoon chill
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she’s standing in line like they once did
when their love was still all flaming hot
giddy like little kids at Christmas time
to hear their favorite punk rock band
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she’s mouthing sad memories to no one
and when exactly did it all slow fade away?
the steam rising up through her hair
and that anger wailing in her belly
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because she wants no more
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of those rerun tv dinners
of his always sleepy couch
of those damn ‘I don’t knows’
of another weekend just wasted
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because she’s so done with
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trying to make him
remember why he loved her
trying so hard to make him
remember why her body was only his
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a gentle hand cupped her sleeveless shoulder
and it shook her a little, so inviting and warm
yeah, those bright blue eyes totally understood
‘hey c’mon hun, let’s move up just a little bit’
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she slithered through the crowd to reach the stage
it was always their favorite spot, when they first met
but these days the raging warmth of crushing bodies
writhing in unison…driving bass beat her steady lover
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and now those bright blue eyes right next to hers
straining to figure out those wicked guitar riffs
her smallish fingers stretching, nearly make that leap
until now, an elusive chord just beyond her guitar’s reach
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when that last song finally ended and every light gone dim
the sold out standing room only crowd erupted, hands raised
and in that hopeful darkness their hands met, fingers entwirled
adding their pleas to the encore chorus, ‘More….more….more….’

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the cruel reminder

crocus abd bees 2012 002

Sunless skies, endless grey clouded over grey
crusted snow creating havoc for crocus shoots
struggling to make their stand.
Winter, a slow death by a thousand windy cuts
an imperceptable emotional fade and they speak
so few words between them now.
Purple and orange in full bloom swathed across
front yard lawns stirring expectations, memories
of their languid summer days
that started warm and ended warmer. Teal skies
uninterrupted steady sun their sleeveless shirts
and moist sweaty skin, her
sweet whispers assured his often troubled heart.
So many purple and orange reasons to be hopeful
but March, the cruel reminder.