Friday, June 15, 2012

Girl Brands

Pamper’d with
Mr. Bubble 
Bath & Body
Works cited
for a DUI
InStyle with
metal bangles and chains
right on Target with the trend,
wanting hot Coco Chanel.

PDA suffocated by PTA
Chex Mix-n it up with
Mommy ‘n’ Me and
Gymboree so there is no
Gripe Water works
Aunt Flo-ing
as she Playtex-s with her man
in 500 thread-count Egyptian cotton
she saw in O magazine

Barbie queuing
Behind fifty pounds of extra
And Curves she hates.
Some guy named Steve
Madden-ing her with
Fisher Price(s) she can’t afFord
So she’s Pamprin herself
with movies to tell her
how to AMC life positively,
Starbucks in her eyes
Pantene-agers hand in hand
In a Mini…
van much to their dismay.

One-A-Day at a time
Icy Hot has new meaning
joints no longer heal, they hurt
and the men’ll pause when she does.
Met-Life and it wasn’t how she planned
but answers “how are you?” with
"Am bien"
Til one day her family has to
Kaiser goodbye Permanente.

Reset Button

Reset button.
I keep looking for my reset button.
I’m full of all these push me points
that every body seems to find
but none of them can press rewind.
I guess we’re all not built that way.
No fast-forward. No pause.
No eject button to push some person out of a soul.
What use are all these buttons if not for those?

Reset button.
I keep thinking I have a reset button.
It’s got to be somewhere, up there, in the brain.
I keep thinking, hoping, some
surge of energy will come upon its wiring
and ignite the start of a total system reboot.
But I can’t complain.
I somewhat like these memories replayed.

Reset button.
Not even the robot on my favorite tee
is in possession of a reset button.
He or she wears its heart on its sleeve
(just like me)
cassette wound tight in the stomach,
Teeth in its smile all gritted, biting at life.
And it’s cluttered with details its
creator felt were all essential to its being.
I am not sure if I wear the tee or if it wears me,
we are so close and tight and pressed together.

I don’t want a reset button.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

To Love Me More

Walking around with my head
toward the ground,
trying to be rid
of my upside-down grin
and my jaded crown.
I am the queen of aloneagain.

It feels like I am in a pawn shop
with some valuable I’d like to hold
yet knowing that for
something more vital,
I need to let go.

The transaction, you see,
has already been done.
You traded me in for some other one,
and that said more than enough.
In fact, it rather said it all.

So, I left you sparkling behind the glass
where I can no longer run my fingers
over you, my favorite jewels.
I’ve locked you up, a treasure,
I had thought, far more valuable
than the heart of gold I presented you.

But then I saw it sitting by you
in the case,
and I took it back, explaining
to the man behind the counter,
that I was there
To trade you in.

So as I move on,
it isn’t that I love you any less;
just that I’m beginning
to love me more.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Non-Fiction Writing

Several hours spent
Sitting scrunched up
Staring at a blinking cursor
And a blank-again computer screen.

All the words that come out
Want to point to you
But I’m writing fiction
Not to be based on truth.
Realizing that I’m writing
With no success
Because I want to be writing
Straight to you.

And just as I go to close this window
That song I called yours and mine
Comes up to play in tune with my heart
All hopeful but sad and blue.
"True Love Will Find You In the End"
I was hoping it had found me
Turns out it’s still searching
For me and for you, too.