Tuesday, July 18, 2017

tightrope

if you can't see
my face
how are you so sure
of how i feel?

if all you're going by
is my voice
how are you so sure
of my anger?

if i breathe
the wrong way
will i lose you forever?

i walk
toe to heel
on the line

hoping this time
to be right

(true)


Wednesday, July 5, 2017

again

tear
the pages
to
my heart

again and again 
and again

replace
my words
with
your story

again and again
and again

bend
the dreams
with
your will

again and again
and again

deny
my life
with
your love

again and again
and again

(can't win)





in a world that's constantly changing (matt and stella)

(july 11, 2009)

he thought he had it all, but he wanted to be sure.

matt moved to the side of the restaurant counter, sliding the food tray with him. he checked over the orders. her cheeseburger, mayonnaise no onions. (because she's allergic to onions.)  his cheeseburger, mustard, no onions. (because he wanted to be kissed some time this decade.) ok. fries. cups for drinks. all there. good.

he carefully walked to the back booth, and put down the food. gently, he pulled the ear bud from stella's right ear.

"what do you want to drink?"

startled a little, stella looked up from her writing.

"um . . uh . .something diet. thanks."

matt kissed her ear, causing her to pull back with giggles. he grabbed the cups, and went on a beverage hunt.

he came back with drinks, napkins, and ketchup balanced precariously in his hands. he saw that she had unwrapped her burger, and spread her fries next to it. he did the same, slowly shaking out the fries from their container. he then took the ketchup and drizzled it in a crisscross fashion over the side order. he pulled his tray closer to the edge of the table, put the napkin on his lap, and looked up.

stella had already taken three bites out of her burger, and was holding a big handful of fries near her mouth.

"what?" she asked, voice muffled by food.

"n ..nothing." he smiled slightly.

she nodded, and inhaled potato.

he watched her for a moment, admonishing himself. of course she was hungry . . .it had been hours since breakfast, and very late for lunch. why didn't he remember that she was a real person, who ate regularly and did things at their normal times? for all the nuttiness, and quirkiness that was stella, she still had a schedule she kept to. people depended on her at more predictable times. and even now, on her vacation, he could tell she was trying to keep things orderly. well, as orderly as she could with him around.

"i'm sorry."

"why?" she had slowed the pace down a bit, and it was easier to understand her through pickles.

"i didn't know you were so hungry."

"no .. i'm ok. i always eat like this, unfortunately." she smiled as she caveman-ripped at her burger. she put it down, and reached on her lap for the napkin that wasn't there.

"sorry. here."

he handed her what she searched for, watching her delicately spotting the paper to her lips.

"thanks. quit saying you're sorry."

matt looked down quickly, trying to hide his eyes.

"i *am* sorry, though. i didn't mean to starve you."

"it's ok. i'm here with you. i'm fitting into your schedule."

"but i don't *have* a schedule."

stella sighed.

"it's ok. your lack of a schedule is a schedule, too. it's just a free and easy schedule. sort of a . .non-schedule thing. "

she giggled. he looked up.

"let's see how many more times i can say "schedule" in a sentence."

he looked down again, this time to smile and shake his head.

"eat, matt. it'll work out."

so they ate, and talked, and giggled through their meal. well, she giggled. matt smiled wryly a few times, and let out small explosions of laughter that surprised him. he felt strangely. . . optimistic.

he may just have it all, but he still wasn't sure.



Friday, June 30, 2017

i'm a lot like you were (matt and stella)

after dinner, after computer time, as they settled down into bed, matt and stella like to read. it seems to be thie only thing that takes the hyper out of stella, and matt is more than happy to lie next to his sweet one.

one night, he noticed a frown on his dear one's face. (ok, ok, i'll stop with the cutesy labels. he does think she's sweet. and dear. and adorable. and . . oh, i said i would stop. sorry.) he leaned his head over, and slightly bumped hers. she bumped back, and looked over his shoulder.

"whatcha reading?" she whispered into his ear.

"robert benchley. you?"

"cosmo."

"oh." matt straightened up a bit. " it's cosmo night?"

"no. this is an old one."

"oh. ok. i thought it was too early in the month."

"you thought right."

they smiled at each other. cosmo night was . . .ok, do i even have to go into it? when you get a new cosmopolitan magazine, you have to share it with your partner, don't you? there's the test at the end, and the "would i look good in this?" and "smell this, would ya?" as well as the "are you flexible enough for that?"

stuff like that.

anyway . .

stella sighed.

"what?"

"nothing."

"ok."

matt warily went back to his book.

stella sighed again. most emphatically.

"ok. what?"

"noooooottthhhing."

she looked up. he stared at her with the "get on with it" look. so, she showed him the article she was reading. 'how to live to be a hundred' it read.

"i used to think i'd only live to twenty one. then maybe twenty five. but, now it seems like, with all the preservatives, and the steroids, and all that . . we can live for forever."

matt smiled. stella was animated, tossing her hair and flashing her eyes. she didn't speak with the correct grammar he always tried to use, but she had more emotion in her voice than he ever had, which to him was a hundred years better.

"would you want to live to be a hundred?" she asked.

"i didn't used to."

she caught on almost immediately.

"reeeeally?"

"yes. really." it was hard for him to keep a straight face.

"when did you start wanting to live to be a hundred?" she wheedled.

"i don't know." he looked away, smiling.

"yes you dooooo."

"no, i don't. really."

"yes you doooooo."

"no. i really don't."

"yes you . . ."

"stella."

"yes?"

"stop talking to the dogs."

"hey!" she shoved at him with her shoulder. "my voice doesn't go that high!" she composed herself, solemn face, sparkling eyes.

"is this better?" her inner bullfrog said.

"ew! now there's a dick kill!"

"too barry white?"

matt leaned over, and glared at her.

"most decidedly." he intoned.

she kissed him lightly on the lips, and went on.

"so . . .when did you want to live to be a hundred?" she asked, in her 'perfectly feminine' voice.

"when my life became more worthwhile." it was his turn to whisper in her ear. "when i met you."

"ohh, maaaaaaaaatttt . . ."

"ok. ok. don't get so puddly."

"yes sir."

"you'd better read up on ben gay. you'll be using it soon enough."

"ew. thanks for the visual."

matt leaned over again, and kissed her hair.

"i love you, dearie."

stella laughed in surprise.

"i love you too . . .you old codger."



Thursday, June 29, 2017

visions

she kept things
in words

sentences and
phrases

be captured things
in pictures

scenes and
stages

they met
in between

her describing
feelings he'd
never felt

he showing
places she'd
never seen

she wrote
furiously
in her notebook

trying to make
him see

but his eyes
were elsewhere

looking for that
next perfect
image

to still
and hold

for eternity

(see)



the crisis of remembering (matt and stella)

dear matt,

i was trying last night to remember you. really remember you. i can't.

i tried for how you looked. i know, i know. i could just look at the pictures i have. they don't help. they don't move. they float silently on my monitor, stiffly smiling, with dead eyes. paused. not free.

i went for how you sound. easy. i hear your voice every day. but, did you know that the phone makes your voice deeper? harder, in a way. sort of . . . untouchable.

i've given up feeling your arms.

can you do something for me? can you really, really *try* to get well? because i know when you do put your mind to something, then it happens. and ... you *do* want to see me again . . .

. . don't you?

i know. i know. i'm forever silly. you do miss me, as much as i miss you. but, after-a-while, it seems like no matter how much you try to assure me . . .i mean . . it's like the words get meaningless as we repeat them over and over again. but, i do love you. and i do miss you. and i do want to be with you again . . 

. . . and i don't know how to tell you in a new, beautiful way that will heal everything.

please remember me. i can never forget you.


love,

stella

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

you are missed

you are noticed
you are loved

you are missed

even though
i know
you're having fun

even though
i know
you'll come back
soon

your presence
(so constant and calm)
is not felt

your voice
(so caring and kind)
is not heard

it's quiet in the corner
where you stood

and lived
and loved
and laughed

come back
and be with us
again

you are missed

(soon)