What if Harvey Weinstein was just a regular guy holding interviews for an accounting job. A woman shows up at his office as planned and after a short while he says, “We’re going to move this meeting to my hotel room, ok?” Continue reading
I’ve invested a lot of time and energy in the thinking poorly of you, banishing you from my brain and committing you to the darkest and most tortured part of me. But have thence, without want nor care, come to peace with the all of you. I choose instead to dangle endlessly spellbound, forever smitten by your lullaby voice, and mesmerized by the magical conjuring of you.
Perhaps when love’s garish, blinding fire settles itself down from a feverish, blistering burn, to a slow, autumn-orange and berry-blue flame, enchanting even the fancy fae of twilight herself, we are also gifted sight of the death-gray soot now layered and exposed: the settling into complacency, the acceptance of the mediocre and the realization remaining true to ourselves isn’t worth the fight.
Truth told, it wasn’t just you that stopped the dance, I untied my laces and hung my pink slippers up long ago. And yet, we stayed, tethered to one another, bound by habit, paralyzed by the comfort in routine, and tied to fear of the unknown. Was it just a marathon we were trying to win, box stepping our way through life and love to one stale, repetition of the same tired song?
Until finally, the fear of the unknown transforms into the promise of possibilities. Until finally, we pick up the broken stick beside us and dare stir the embers, awaken the infinite in the stirring and beg rise of the oxygen-starved ash, chasing the sparks like fireflies in the night. We run with no thought to destination, no fear of wrong paths taken or finding ourselves lost; we chase the fire’s light hoping to find where it calls home once it fades from our eyes.
Once lost in this drunken, romantic notion of awareness, of purpose and wonder of self, we can rejoice in the splendor of discovery, awaken in the most glorious of dreams and take flight to the heavens, needing nothing pain and suffering have to offer, their invitations no longer irresistible. Our indiscretion and judgment seem childish at best, once viewed from above the pedestal of triviality, now, shamefully, so well-worn and comfortable.
We did love. We did in-love hard, fast and ferocious, and that is the fire I choose to warm my heart with when remembering your touch, your passion and your uncanny ability to make me laugh when I wanted nothing more than to crawl inside myself to lick my wounds healed. This is how I choose to remember the all of you.
And will you remember the all of me, the essence, the vast and wild-wilderness of me, the one place you chose to get hopelessly and forever tucked away from the world? The Bonnie-blue of these Scottish eyes flashing to beckon you, the wispy-fine locks of my hair, rebelliously escaping their beaded-barrette prison, hoping to find capture by your weathered hands to be placed gently behind my ear?
Let us remember the best of ourselves, the best of each other, and regard both with a fondness and familiarity known only by lovers who loved well. Souls once in love, now beheld and cherished dear as poetic fragrance, lingering, still, from tumbles through moments and memories of the willowy wildflowers we planted so many years ago.
Remember me well, remember me fair, remember me Bonnie-blue.
It was a comet dust ride—unworldly and cosmic, fast and furious—and, by dawn’s early light, just a cherished memory.
“Desperate to escape abusive parents and chaotic households, it didn’t take my best friend Debbie long to convince me Notre Dame Academy for Girls was the answer and refuge we’d been praying for. Continue reading
Thrilled beyond measure to be Featured in the Health and Science section on The Washington Post. It’s posted in their digital media and in print.
Get your biscuits in the oven
And your buns in the bed
Forget about that birth control
It’s what the good book says
Fetch my beaded rosary from my wooden dresser drawer
I think the good Lord’s calling me home, an angel’s at my door
She really is quite lovely, and she stands in God’s sweet Grace
My heart feels she’s familiar but I can’t make out her face Continue reading
Would those very pants you are wearing ever seem at home tossed across the bottom of my queen-sized bed? I see myself folding them, yet again, and hanging them up for you. I visualize the laundry basket with our clothes already intertwined within each other’s arms and legs and seemingly happy. Would we be seemingly happy intertwined?
Oh Dear Lord, it’s that time of year
When we’re forced to unite with family dear
They converge upon us one and all
Some whose faces you can’t recall
The kids are scrubbed, waxed and shined
The table is set, the turkey brined
There he stands, your husband bare
“Is this really what I have to wear?”
“YES!” you scream “Now go put it on,
the guests will be here before too long!”
“OK” he skulks, “I hate this dumb vest!”
You hear the knock of the very first guest
“You’re full bare-ass naked and they’re at the door,
Stop wagging your weenie and saying, ‘Go Thor!’
I’m wielding a cleaver with a mind of its own
And Thor might find his two ball buddies gone!”
Why are they here, it’s not even two?
They’re still a million things I have to do
Husband reenters dressed like a freak
You scream “NOT what I chose, NO SEX FOR A WEEK!”
You open the door, endure your first hug
Oh, goody, the dog’s pooped on the rug
The indoor cat has been launched outside
I don’t even care, go find your own pride
People now begin to start pouring in
(Where’d I put that bottle of gin?)
Arrive two hours early? Gee, that’s swell
“Please do come in…” (then go straight to Hell)
The house is full, the food is not ready
Another shot down just to keep myself steady
“How are you, dear, you look so tired!”
“Thanks!” (that cream in your coffee, yeah, it’s expired)
“No, I’m fine, just still lots to do…
I do love that dress!” (now buzz off you shrew)
Finally it’s time to all sit and eat
Only 7 more hours til I get to sleep
Politics, religion, why yes, do go on
Eyes to my husband (you’re mom’s Satan’s spawn)
“Hon, we need some more wine!” please fill my bucket
Before I tell your mother to suck it
I’ve had enough? I should slow down?
Where’s that cleaver, I know it’s around
Time for dessert, I’ll go fetch the pies
Wow, Spanx: I feel nothing above both my thighs!
Oh look dear the cat is outside in a panic
By the size of his eyes I’d say he’s quite manic
He may have smoked a bit of pure meth
Next person he sees will be meeting their death
Oh, look, hon, your mom, she’s taking a ‘nap’
Let me put this dear feline in her vacant lap
“No don’t you dare, she’ll never get through it!”
Guess what, don’t care, I’m going to do it!
The guests are all drunk and they’re not staying here
Call Santa, that douche bag, and get his ass here
Tell him to bring his sleigh and some gin
And make room in the coal bag for your mom to get in
I’ve had it, I’m done, that’s it, no more!
I’m now more exhausted than a three-penny whore
My Spanx are now lodged in places unknown
No dear, they’re not in my erogenous zone!
And no, you can’t help ‘get me out of this shirt‘
Move your hand from my tits before you get hurt!
Oh gawd, there’s you mom and the cat’s clutching tight
At this point we’re all hoping for an epic cat fight
And what to my wandering eyes should appear
Oh look, how cute, each kid has a beer!
This night is so crazy, I’m now at the point
Screw pumpkin pie, I’m lighting this joint
Thanksgiving is over, another one done
But Christmas is coming, let’s pack and run
The kids, and the cat and the dog will be fine
Just grab me my Xanax and that large vat of wine
Goodbye everyone, we may never appear
If you don’t see us by Christmas good luck and good cheer
All we can say is we owe you much thanks
“C’mon Thor, I need you to dislodge my Spanx!”
Lo! The holidays are here, there is no way out
Remember: After 3 days they’re all rotten trout
So now I will leave you with words you can preach:
Keep your gin and your Spanx somewhere you can reach!