Angel

Majestic and proud she stands against time.
Her body old and worn, but her spirit is still strong.
Only nine pounds and counting, but her eyes still stare with the devotion reminiscent of her puppy years.
Seventeen in dog years is a life time and then some, but to us it’s two life times too short.
Her fur soft and white as a dove at Christmas.
She’s barks with gusto at the vet as if saying, “don’t count me out yet, silly man. My name may be Angel, but I have a stubborn streak as long as the devils. I’ll go when I’m ready and not a minute less.”

My Past

Life on the road, sounded like a dream
The escape I needed.
Life swallowed me up and spit me out, but I kept driving
Even when the residue from deep ruts in life’s road stayed with me,
Staining my skin like an invisible birth mark
I kept driving
Scars covered my heart
A road map of misery I carried there
Her laugh scalds me, haunts me, beckons me,
She’s always there.
Waiting. Watching.
Humming her melody in the wind rushing in the windows,
Caressing my face,
Just waiting for me to turn around,
Waiting for me to look back.
But I kept driving.

What’s in a Table

Hollowed river valleys run through the wood on my table
The crevasses spider web out to catch all the remains of meals past
Trapped there are the crumbs of our lives.
Holding memories in its grooves like a mother clings to her child.
I wipe it off and set the table for dinner and start to cook.
There’s the ever present click, click ,click of a mouse or two.
She’s home from work, on her computer again.
Always on her computer, clicking her life away.
He does the same, in his room
Like mother, like son
Smells of onion and garlic slip through the air seductive with promises
“Swish, pop, sizzle,” says the food in the pan. The oven snaps like a steel trap.
Dinner’s served on my table
No more click clacks of the keyboards, just the buzz of a family enjoying their food.
No talking, just sitting and eating, together.
The moment settles around me like a blanket of loving arms.
I run my fingers along the smooth surface, reading the wear like a blindman reads brail.
Scratches, from meals shared and crafts learned,
places that cut hands were placed for band-aids,
bread kneaded, cookies rolled and cut out,
It’s where she told me a thousand times, she loved me,
it was all there, my table told me so.

Real Writer Life

Jazz playing, I’m in my own little café.

Dryer pinging with clothes, the small snores of puppies ruffle the air.

They make my familiar background noise.

My disgruntled cat glares from her perch like a queen waging war.

A makeshift desk with my laptop sits like a life raft in the sea of house chores.

The urge to run is there, I ignore it and sit down.

A few hundred words later, I can breathe again.

A Kiss

The crowd parted in the the club like the red sea. She was standing there in a slinky purple dress looking at her phone, oblivious to the pulsing music. The way her fingers moved quickly over it, I could tell she was probably engrossed in the latest hand held game of the minute. She didn’t have the confidence and swag of the typical women sauntering through the club tonight. Rumors was the it, lesbian bar of the moment and any queer within a hundred mile radius that wanted to be seen was here.
I could tell by the way she kept passing her phone back and forth between her hands and fussing with her too short skirt, she was definitely out of her element. I was just thankful for whoever talked her into wearing the little dress, though.
It showed off long tan legs and a hour glass figure that was tragically considered plus size in today’s standards. Just the way I liked them. I needed something to hold on to at night. None of those stick figures they called model perfect for me.
She switched hands again and reached up to straighten the slip of lace that was masquerading as a sleeve. I watched her hands smooth over her breasts and down the skirt wishing they were my own. I trailed my eyes back up her body, to her face and was surprised by wide blue eyes staring back.
Startled, I held her gaze and willed my heart to not beat out of my chest. Those eyes. I smiled never glancing away and raised my glass to her taking a sip, never losing contact with hers. When I took my glass away from my lips, I licked them out of reflex. Her’s parted and the green in her gaze darkened with desire as she watched me.
My, my. Wasn’t she full of surprises? Before I could stop myself, I set my glass down at the bar and walked towards her. She blinked and shook her head no. I ignored her. Never mind that it was down right uncomfortable not to move with the ache I felt.
My clothes suddenly were too tight. My silk bra turned rough as sand paper against my nipples as I walked. The jeans I wore too tight against my crotch. How was this even possible? I didn’t even know the girls name. Never heard her voice. Never felt her in my arms. My body knew her already, though.
She ran like a scared rabbit and I chased like the wolf I was. We weaved in and out of the crowd, until I followed her out the club and on to the side walk. The sudden quiet of the night when the door of the club closed stopped us both. She turned and stared at me wide eyed, but I could see the flames of desires licking in the back. “Why are you following me?” Of course she had a voice, like whiskey and warm velvet.
I stepped closer to her, until she backed against the stone wall of the club. The rainbow light of the sign danced in her eyes and shown on her lips after her tongue darted out.
“I wanted to kiss you.” I know it sounded stupid, but she had fried my mind and all the normal suave thing I would say never came to mind.
She smiled and then laughed breaking the tension.
After a few moments, she ducked her head and whispered, “why don’t you then.”
I lifted her chin. Before either one of us could chicken out, I did just that. Fireworks exploded. I felt like I was flying. Her arms wrapped around my neck and I leaned into her body with my own. She tasted of strawberries and coconut rum. The sounds of the night and the club faded. My whole world was this kiss now.