Start light,…. star bright…

Six shooting stars, and upon each, I laid a wish, all the more worth while than that before.

How one dares to lay faith in such childish notions, how ever, I hold them so very dear to my heart, tightly clasping each fragment of youthful idealism. I shall not put asunder such things that bring me great pleasure, for to me, these are not childish whims, the toys one sets aside so carelessly, never to be picked back up again, allowing years of accumulated dust to layer upon them. A symbol to some, but for I, a fierce desire.

I will forever delight in the wishing process, to not have convention suffocate them, never to give into the slow, shallow death of adulthood.

We choose what filaments from our past shall endure in the present, my future. A night that marked six shooting stars will fortify my soul in times that are bleaker than now. For even as the bright streak marking the darkness fades, the passing of time shall not dull the vivid memory banked deep in my heart.

Pearls before swine

A solitary road trip gives one cause to pause, propelling forward at break neck speeds, thoughts tumbling, jumbled by the wind. This was most neccasary, much needed time alone with myself, time to ponder. I have wondered as of late the roles certain people have in my life, how relevant are they, is there any sense of permancy to be had? Perhaps this was my precise moment to wind down my social whirl wind, get out of dodge and reconcile a few things. I know I was craving this drive, so familiar,such a sense of sabatical looming in the lines that blurred past. The down time the weekend had in store was the perfect compliment to all that I had immersed my self in as of late.
My distance traveled was measured in the accumulated crusts of bug carcasses upon my windshield, a sure sign of Spring. Knowing every bend and dip of route 1 allowed me a certain freedom, leaning into each curve I know so well, pressing my foot upon the accelorator, darting through small clumps of vehicles, never loosing momentum, easing between those that seemed in my way, the twighlight loomed ahead, out of reach for me to chase. The wind rush knocked the sounds of blaring music in an ebb and flow that seemed so amusing, almost lyrical, lending a haunting quality to tunes that seemed to match the speeds I crept upon. I counted the years I have traveled this route, and the events that marked them, it seemed impossible that so much has been jammed into a scant 7 years. The friends, the lovers, the yearnings, so few are still present, and even fewer I wished had remained. The only consistancies are that of why I drive these roads, my destination and so much of the songs I catterwall, the soundtrack of these roads.
As I pulled onto route 24, the pockets of congestion thickened, breaking my concentration on my issues at hand. The lines of cars before me were so evenly spaced ahead, it was if I were in line for a funeral procession. An odd thought indeed, perhaps merely signifying nothing more than the end of another trip, soon to be home, enjoying the much needed company of the person who matters the most,and I see the least. I felt my mind slow and calm as I pulled into the crunchy drive way, smelling freshly pulled earth and the hint of the previous rains. Time to relax, to reconnect and rejuvinate and drift effortlessly to the slumber of the angels

Breathing lessons

There are times in a persons life when you realized that it seems as if you have stopped breathing, the beating of your heart has become almost inaudible. This I believe is not an anomoly, some merely don’t realized it has occured. Perhaps one has suffered great heart ache and loss, or confusion and stress have finally taken their toll or far too often, they simply give up, stop caring, let themselves become complaicant and indifferent. To me, the last signifies that you are letting your enthusiasm die, forgetting that the pain and heart ache are things the universe has put into place to remind you how to FEEL! As if some become a ghost of themselves, empty shells, lackluster and paralized in their malaise, I have been there, more times than I care to admit and most by this point in our lives have endured as well. I forgot to allow my heart to beat fiercly and freely, I neglected to breathe in life and exhale enthusiasm, my judgement was clouded and my heart sorrowfully wallowing in the quagmire of self doubt. Sometimes a friend or lover may help to shake you free of your catatonic state, it may be a stranger or an event and ocaasionally, you do it all by yourself and never even realize it till you have come through to the other end. I don’t know how I got there, but I did, taking a lesson along with me and the ability to breathe again.

The fragile heart

All who have walked this path know what I mean. You spend your life protecting this vitale organ, learning what brings it great joy and overwhelming grief. At times it can be surrounded by an inpenitrable fortress, from another having been so careless with it at a time when it was wide open with trust. When this occurs, it takes so much to tear away at the callouses that time and self preservation have layered over this fragile thing. If one then becomes so bold as to try to let someone get a glimpse of what awaits beneath it all, how do you stop waiting for the proverbial “other shoe to drop”, or more like drop kick you in the soft, exposed, vulnerable center of yourself? To accept and to have faith can be the hardest thing to endure and the out come……. one will never know unless you let it just merely happen. Once again, I say stand at the edge of the cliff, arms spread wide, eyes taking it all in and then swan dive and laugh the whole way down. It may hurt like hell or even kill you when you hit, or perhaps if you are lucky, when you get there, you will be thrilled, over joyed and aching to do it all over again

Cup of joe

Hey there randon stranger, is your coffee growing cold? Mine is warm and fragrant, freshly poured by a teen idol with cerulean eyes. These dimly lit structures breed interesting conversations, do you not concur? Two unfamiliar people sitting but a chair apart, what say you and I be friends for an hour or so? Talk of random thought provoking things. Let us find some common ground and run rings around our trains of thought. Too make each other think, roll a few ideas around our tongues, chew them up and regurgitate a new view. Share with me your sadness, or of a memory of when the sun had shone on your face and bathed your soul in warm honey. Let’s be friends for an hour or so, to exchange thoughts, and stories and parting words. And then perhaps every so often, we shall both be here, sipping a cup of stomach rattling, artificial stimulants and we can once again be friends, here in this little side street cafe, where you can usually find yourself a new companion by the time you are peering at the bottom of your cracked stained cup.

Grey Saturday

Something about this weather makes me feel strangely alive, ready to explore. It stirs something within me. All last evening a nebulous fog engulfed all I could see and it enchanted me. Today this feeling lingers, propelling me to seek out an adventure. A day of mindless meandering, no plans, no boundaries, the world is mine. I shall not let this pass me by, not let this wander lust be quelled untill my eyes are blurred fom the sweetest exhaustion and only then will I lay my weary body to surrender to the small death of sleep

A case of the mean reds

A flash of random headlights tore white light through the thread bare sad excuse of curtains promising shade from that which lurked beyond the motel door. The kind of shit hole the disheveled massed huddled as they coped with the meloncholy tidbits of whatever wrenched their souls. You could feel the vague imprint of lurid, tawdry trysts and the dispair of those who saught sanctuary from habits and hard times in the realm of the heart.

Mostly, I pick whatever room commanded a clear view of the highway turning in, so that I was a hop, skip and a tumble from the nearest escape, as that was usually what was required. This time, feeling mixed up and muddled like the fruit at the bottom of a crappy geezer drink, I crept around the room, stalking the prey that seemed to always show up as, me. No need to terrorize the locals tonight, what with a fresh glass of cubes aching for the slow, sensual poor from the voluptious bottle, but who knows, it’s a womans perogative to change her mind.

I fumbled at the lopsided bed side table for a smoke and some soggy match book left over from the last poor fucker taken refuge before me. The mattress spring groaned and lurched beneath me as my boots kicked up a fuss on the musty spread, what a hinky scenario. I, the aimless drifter, forever with hopes to stay just beneath the radar of the brass, taking flight at night, never hanging long enough to look over my shoulder to see if the fella throwing heat at me across countless state lines could just be a finger tips graze from my undulating hips.

The night time had always been my time, yet, think I may just sit this one out, a gal can keep a full dance card for only just so long.
4:33 AM

Lament

I ache for the lover who will allow me to love, unabashadly and sinfully. A man who can take me down with great tenderness, yet fill me with savage lust. I yearn for nights of wine and raw emotion permiating every fiber of my torn soul. I find my past lovers to be souless, lacking passion and depth. I need to learn, to grow, I want to nurture experiance. To tear away all common boundaries and make the ordinary extraordinary. Am I a love junky, in love with love? So be it

Today, is the day

Today, I do not think with my head. My primary instincts eminate from an unchartered realm in my soul. I stand on the edge, arms thrown wide to welcome the unknown, eyes opened to see all that is before me, heart swelling with anticipation. Today, I embrace what is uncertain, common sense thrown aside, caution,…. not even an option. I need to live this life, to see and do and to feel all that I can.

Late night, one Spring evening

The warm promise of spring hinted in the air as I drove over the bridge, radio crackling old new wave music that faded with the wind rush of speed that filled my ears. The air felt somewhat humid and a slight dampness clung to my hair causing the ends to curl curiously. The smell at first was faint, like the marshy waters at twighlight on stiffling August evenings. It was both salty and heavy, covering everything it came in contact with. It reminded me of the fact that I have been longing to smell the sweet Summer smells, of strawberry twighlight in the fieldgrass or the permiating sexual frenzy of the rag weed. But if you were to breath in the marsh smell to deep it choked you like heavy lilac toilet water so heavily associated with old ladies who have blue hues to their puffs of white hair. Then the scent became like that of stale urine on the floor of gas staion restrooms. So fine tune the stereo and push the gas pedal harder and don’t let any one bury their faces in your hair for a few hours.