tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-160652462024-03-19T18:57:28.403-04:00Keen Perception Of The IntolerableI saw hatred... I saw beauty... I saw rage... I saw wonder... I saw insanity... I saw lust... I saw evil... I saw grace... I saw wrath... I saw charity... I saw greed............. as I passed by the hall mirrorSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-44670729152808962452021-07-25T22:52:00.000-04:002021-07-25T22:52:07.693-04:00Si Usted Me Necesita...I won't be easy to find
alcoholico de pueblo
in Salsipuedes
middle of nowhere, Mexico
far enough down the baja
where you run out of beach
and run into rocky inhospitable coast
not even in una casa
more like una choza
wearing a perpetual week-old beard
where the coast looks like...... hmmm
upside-down senos (not to be coarse)
but I'll be around
Well, there or in town
for cervezas and arroz
my dog in the truck
I'll be the one
with Doc Martens & guitar
no phone or address
just ask for the gringo chistoso
they'll know who you mean
and point you down a long dirt road
towards Fin del Mundo
both in name and in purpose
waiting for perdon o muerte
whichever comes first
or maybe both
You'll be expected
an extra cup, an extra plate
but only one cama
just for me
so you can't stay long
probably not even worth the effort
to talk to a broken old young man
no good to anyone anymore anytime
except my dog and my bartender
but if you're in the area
within a hundred miles or so
and you want to say 'hello'
I promise to kiss you goodbyeSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-36972427796909114352021-07-25T22:51:00.000-04:002021-07-25T22:51:28.855-04:00ÉgoïsteI used to have a real job. A real boss, 401k, bi-weekly paychecks - the whole 9 yards. And because I wasn't bound by the constraints of family, friends or a social life, I used to work relatively long hours. The only problem with that is, at that time, I lived about an hour commute away from the office. So working until 10-11 o'clock 5-6 nights a week, then driving 40+ miles home, sleeping for 4-5 hours, then getting up and driving another hour back into work got a little old after a while. So I was left with 2 basic options - either sell my house and get a place in the city OR find a cheap little studio downtown to crash after working late.
I opted for door number two.
I found a place about 2 blocks from my office. It was an unfurnished loft in a converted bottle factory (glass, not baby). Nothing extraordinarily special about it - about 600 sq ft of open space with ladder access to a raised sleeping area, but it was perfect for my needs. And it had a lot of good light, which was unfortunate because I didn't think I'd see much of the place during the day.
I signed a 6-month lease with an option for month-to-month after that. I bought a cheap couch, a platform bed and stashed a week's supply of clothes in the closet. It was pretty sweet for a while. Kinda like my own little private hideout, a safehouse that only I knew about.
Until I made the mistake of letting someone else in on the secret.
There was this admin in Finance. We had exchanged pleasantries and innuendo for a few weeks until one night when we were the last two people in the office. I was working late. She was working late. We went for drinks afterwards. We wanted a little privacy.
You get the picture.
This went on for the better part of 2 months. We'd work late, get drunk then go back to my place and have at it. We even took advantage of the close proximity to have a few long "lunches" as well. We'd come back to the office with our hair mussed and clothes wrinkled, but I don't think anyone suspected anything nefarious.
A little background on her - early 20's, graduated from a private catholic college in Texas, tight swimmer's body, dating a 3rd year med student. It would be fair to say that she didn't have a lot of bedroom experience up until that point in her life. And the experience she did have wasn't much more than the drunken-frat-boy "grope'n'poke" variety. Since her boyfriend spent a lot of time at school, they didn't have much of a chance to spend much time together. So she really came of age bedroom-wise while we were together.
So anyway, this goes on a bit longer until she starts feeling guilty about her boyfriend and decides that she needs to spend more time with him. She tells me that she can't do this any longer and breaks it off. She even gave her notice at our company and started working for the census bureau. I was definitely ok with it because I was getting even less sleep than when I was driving all the way home each night. And it wasn't like I had anything invested in her except the physical thing.
So I stopped seeing her...... for about a month.
She developed this habit of hanging out with her friends at a downtown bar and getting too drunk to drive home. So she'd walk over to my loft and knock on the door to see if I was there. This happened once every couple of weeks. I'd let her in, put her to sleep in my bed then I'd go sleep on the couch. Then she'd come over to the couch and start kissing my neck. I'd tell her to knock it off because I had to go into work early. Then she'd start rubbing my chest. So we'd end up making out for a while. Out of a convoluted respect for her relationship with her boyfriend, I wouldn't go any further than that.
A few months of this goes by. It starts getting pretty old for me. I got the place so I could get some sleep after working late, but now I was sleeping way less if at all.
So she comes over late one Friday night. After her engagement party. Smashed as she could be. I tell her that she can sleep on the bed but she better stay there. I lay down on the couch and go to sleep. I wake up about 7am when I feel her on top of me, completely undressed. I tell her to cut it out. She starts doing certain things to me (for the sake of decency, I'll leave it at that). I push her away and tell her to get off me. She starts doing something to me even more provocative.
I'm a man. I have weaknesses.
I roll over on top and enter her. Nothing intimate. Nothing affectionate. Just going through the motions to get it over with.
I look down to see her avoiding eye contact with me as her eyes almost start to tear up. I couldn't freaking believe she was pulling that shit. I roll off her said things that I regret. Pretty much a total prick. Things like "what the hell did you expect me to do?" and "what's your f-ing problem?".
You know, being the sensitive guy I am.
She stopped coming over after that.Smerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-35999401331406195472021-07-25T22:50:00.000-04:002021-07-25T22:50:08.718-04:00YetGrown up to be a woman
yet still a little girl inside
Settled for a boy
yet still longing for a man
Found her purpose
yet not the one she hoped it would be
Living with uncompromising honesty
yet still hiding one dark secret
Content to wear jeans and a sweater
yet gazes longingly at the gown in the window
Pleased with her life
yet holding out hope for another
Grasped hard-learned lessons
yet feels like a schoolgirl next to him
Sees the beauty around her
yet dreams of somewhere elseSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-20015256833837682662021-07-25T22:49:00.001-04:002021-07-25T22:49:35.189-04:00Tuesday at The Corner Bar & Grillei should have known better
i had no business being there
but she laughed when i hesitated
"as if you could still charm my pants off"
"you know we're not 18 anymore"
she said she could only meet at lunch
she worked evenings at Ballys
spinning class til 5, pilates at 7
she'd be at the Corner after her shower
just to talk & hear about the Alison
i was cautiously cautious at first
we had a past and she had a present
married a decade, 3 kids of her own
one played the piano, 2 danced ballet
she lulled me into apprehensive optimism
the conversation flowed then ebbed
she paused then asked if i was happy
"youve known me since i was 16"
"you ever know me to be happy?"
i noticed her eyes were as weary as my own
right then i hoped we could be friends
and she told me she decided to be happy
right after her dad died last year
it got closer to 7 and she had to go
sometimes her husband brought her lunch
i stepped up to hug her goodbye
as we stood shivering outside the bar
i swear to God i wanted to be friends
but the our lips somehow met
our bodies somehow embraced
"lets go sit a minute in my car"
she said as she took me by my hand
i should have known better
i had no business being there
but it was cold & maybe i could make her happy
she drove a few blocks away, quiet
she was going to be late anyhow
her tiny hands in mine, it began
slowly at first, then with a hunger
then with a longing, i began to drown
she unbuttoned my shirt, 6 buttons down
then my belt as she unzipped her pants
i looked around to make sure we were alone
both of us half-naked under the streetlight
the windows fogged, streaked by fingerprints
i saw the truth as she crawled in the backseat
leopard-print bra and laced black thong
no way she'd wear that just for work
it should have been boy-shorts & jogging bra
she knew we'd be here when she woke this morning
i should have seen this coming
i should have known better
theres no way i should be here right now
but i still crawled back to be with her
next to the child safety seat and bookbag
we couldnt be friends after this
we would be something else entirely
stolen glances as we past in the street
she'd be someone to give me what she wanted
me not man enough to give her what she needsSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-91414709482330215032021-07-25T22:49:00.000-04:002021-07-25T22:49:19.912-04:00The FacadeI just happened to be positioned behind her as she mingled at a cocktail party, a drink in her right hand so she could be demonstrative with her ringed left. She was halfway through telling a woman ten years younger about the roses her husband had bought herfor her birthday and the "just precious" construction paper card her son made her in art class, concluding with "and the he hugged me and told me I was the beautifulest mommy in the whole world!".
I just shook my head, thinking about the last time I'd seen her - checking her re-applied lipstick in my passenger-side visor mirror before she returned to work. I offered her a piece of gum as she reached to open the door.
But her decade-long marriage must have improved over the last three months.
I took my time pouring myself a drink as she continued her soliloquy, no audience in particular, oblivious to my proximity. Now talking about her job, how embarassed she was when her boss singled her out for praise for her "invaluable contribution" and he "wouldn't know what to do without her". I reflexively shook my head, knowing her role to be a faceless administrative drone, reviewing paperwork and spell-checking other's work.
I was courteously apologetic as I brushed by, spilling my drink down her dress, name-brand but purchased during offseason clearance. Her face went from shock to anger to recognition to surprised to unsure to uncomfortable over the next few seconds. Had I overheard her well-rehearsed script, her smoky mirror?
She looked down to the floor, then back at me and cautiously gestured to the back door. I brushed some invisible lint from my lapel, grabbed the hand of a younger woman and walked away.Smerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-71233165416845396182021-07-25T22:48:00.002-04:002021-07-25T22:48:48.422-04:00Particle BoardYou stood two steps behind him
as he unlocked the door to his 2nd floor apartment
with a partial view of the pool & the highway
Carrington Place or Crane's Landing or The Meadows
He walked in, flipping the light switch
a black halogen pole lamp illuminates the foyer
you step cautiously onto the neutral linoleum
your heels sticking a bit, leather on plastic
He walks four or five steps into the kitchen
opening the cabinet, you know the kind
tan pressed wood that swells when wet
he withdraws a bottle of peppermint schnapps
he rests the bottle on the laminate countertop
youre still wearing your charcoal gray peacoat
as he gestures to Sanyo cd player
and asks you to put on some "mood" music
Flipping through his random collection
The Killers, Creed, the Crue & Chili Peppers
"hey, just push play" he calls over to you
Sex of Fire begins to play from the tinny speakers
He sets down two plastic schnapps-filled glasses
on the black particle board coffee table
that he bought in a box & assembled with an allen wrench
water rings & ciggy burns scattered randomly
he makes room for you on his futon
you remove your coat, draping it on his gamer rocker
he leans over as you sit beside him
his goatee tickles your chin as you kiss
you look around while he squeezes your breast
aluminum, particle board, plastic and polyester
a lack of permanence and perspective
all of it garbage within five years, maybe less
Is that where you really want to be?
hooked up with some random who smells like Axe
while I'm at home on my leather chaise
making out with a waitress from ApplebeesSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-54166580619015820942021-07-25T22:48:00.001-04:002021-07-25T22:48:27.567-04:00The PillSulphur in her mouth
cursing the physician
so sickened by the treatment
she doesn't even realize
she no longer has the diseaseSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-55371144489942197872021-07-25T22:48:00.000-04:002021-07-25T22:48:11.174-04:00SubtleIts the little things
that let me know she's been here
(when she not supposed to be)
still-warm water droplets in my tub
the scent of a cologne I haven't worn in a while
Diorskin Nude inside the collar of my favorite shirt
My bed a little too well-made
her silhouette barely graces my pillow
my robe hung a little too neatly on the closet door
HF Saint upside down in my bookcase
Damien Rice at the top of my playlist
Prescriptions aligned in the medicine cabinet
My notebooks, dog-earred and well-read
a cigar missing from my humidor
(not one of the good ones though)
Maybe I shouldn't be away from the house for so long
maybe I should keep all the windows locked
but then who would keep me company?Smerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-18003117523406327352021-07-25T22:47:00.001-04:002021-07-25T22:47:44.437-04:00UninvitedI heard footsteps walking up the path to my house
But I had sent no invitations
I had made no appointments
No welcome mat in front of my door
Then a delicate knock on unstained oak
and a silhouette against the frosted sidelights
She had no way of knowing anyone was home
No lights, no sound, mailbox overflowing with postcards
Her frailty calmed my unease
What danger could she possibly pose?
I unlatched the deadbolt, removed the chain
Cracked the door and let her inside
She said she's driven by this house for years
always wondering what it was like inside
finally worked up the courage to knock
Grateful to find someone inside
I hadn't wanted/expected company
But still I said nothing
as she walked through the first floor
and began to turn on all the lights
She seemed to know her way around
Removing two mugs from the pine hutch
and brewed coffee for me, tea for her
as we sat on opposite ends of my couch
Obviously incapable of doing any harm
to a calloused, caustic man like me
I didn't thank her for her warmth
But I didn't latch the door when she left
Afterwards, she came and went as she pleased
sometimes I was home, other times not
Though aware of one unspoken rule
Make yourself at home, but respect locked doors
My bedroom, the basement, the garage
All else was hers to explore, to wander
For which she appeared to be content
Even when I wasn't there to police
But then I arrived home, worn & humbled
Things seemed slightly out of place
my nightstand, my wine cellar, my keys
She lied and said it wasn't her
I didn't invite her in my home after thatSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-90728550422368648802021-07-25T22:47:00.000-04:002021-07-25T22:47:20.592-04:00Easter ShenanigansI have precisely one Easter tradition in my house. Hell, it's probably the only actual holiday tradition I have.
The house I lived in about 14 years ago backed up against a winding creek that formed the border of my little town. The creek made a fairly straight run through my property but then made a sharp right turn as it headed east. So the patch of land between my house and my neighbor's house was a 3/4 acre triangle swatch peppered with oak trees and tiger lillies that had spread from the roadside path. During the summer, the trees were full enough to form an impervious curtain that provided total isolation between the two properties. But starting in late fall and lasting until mid-spring, I could sit on my back deck and see my neighbor sitting on his though the bare trees.
It was on such a early spring Saturday evening when Robyn and I were laying in the chaise on one of the first semi-warm nights of the season. We began to watch as our neighbor, Ron (maybe in his mid-50's then), walking around his backyard in with no discernible pattern or purpose. He'd walk behind a tree, bend over, walk across to the flower garden, bend over, and so on. This went on before we figured out what he was doing - hiding little plastic Easter eggs for his grandkids to search for the next day.
Now for most people, this might seem a precious & tender moment to be enjoyed and savored. After all, I lived In a town seemingly painted by either Norman Rockwell or Thomas Kincade, depending which side of town you were on. But for us, it was an opportunity for some slightly more, well, not-quite-malicious activities.
"Would you like some Peeps?" I asked her as my neighbor headed inside, task completed. She playfully slugged me, but I knew her thinking was along the same lines as mine.
We drank a bottle and a half of Louis Jadot Bourgogne until we saw the lights go out next store. We crept though the woods until simply planning on stealing some Peeps and Cadbury eggs neatly contained in a small plastic egg. But then we found the first egg, it's outer shelled scribes in block letters, "Audrey". The next we found was labeled Ethan. It turns out all were marked with the names of one of his 5 grandkids.
We crouched behind a tree plotting our next course of action. The fair thing to do would be to steal candy equally from each child's egg. The evil thing to do would be to steal all the candy from only one child's eggs, thereby sentencing him/her to a lifetime of low self-esteem and feelings of familial inadequacy and alienation.
But then Robyn asked, "How much cash do you have?".
I pulled out my money clip and she extracted a fifty dollar bill.
"Which name is your favorite?", she asked next.
"Hmmm, let's go with Nora".
She walked over to the bird feeder, picked up an egg labeled "Nora", opened it up, inserted the fifty, re-sealed it, placed it gently where it was, grabbed my hand and led me back home sans chocolate or Peeps.
We woke early the next morning and drank coffee on the dock along the creek where we had a full perspective on the festivities next door.
A "ready....set...GO!". Five kids, toddlers through elementary, scramble through the yard. A 5 year year old girl (presumably Nora) squeals in delight. The four others, seeing her bounty, now dash madly around the property looking for their own $50 egg..... To no avail. Confused parents. Ron in a state of complete disbelief. Kids begin to cry. Nora fiercely protecting her priceless egg. Parents begin to argue.
While Robyn and I drink hazelnut coffee, blissful and contented.
Nora got fifties for the next two years with the same results. The following year Ron tried to head off the holiday disaster by putting one $50 bill in each of the kids' eggs. I replaced Nora's fifty with a $100 bill.
The kids stopped getting eggs when they hit about 14 years old, but the older kids would be replaced with younger ones, one of which would always be selected at random for added cash from me. I think Ron began to suspect I was involved, but abandoned that theory when it continued after I moved away.
So early in the morning every Easter, I sneak into Ron's yard for another round of holiday shenanigans.Smerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-37374245882070137032021-07-25T22:46:00.000-04:002021-07-25T22:46:45.966-04:00InsteadShe dreamed of backpacking Hemingway's path
Pamplona, Key West, Cojimar, School Creek
Reading & writing every mile along the way
She took 8 community college courses Instead
She envisioned skin & sweat & passion
Two bodies intertwined and afire
Nothing existing beyond themselves
She accepted an accountant's proposal Instead
She wanted to save a piece of the world
One sick and deprived soul at a time
Nothing so pure as a woman with a cause
She took a job selling condos instead
She still always kept two books in her purse
On Writing Well and Slaughterhouse Five
Trying to finish a rough outline of her novel
But she got pregnant Instead
Refocused and her life reprioritized
Intent on raising a gentleman & scholar
Museums, culture, sport and charm
She started drinking at noon Instead
She met a man who lived her unlived life
Bitter, jaded, diseased, and unloved
Who longed for the things she had
But she envied him Instead.Smerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-1135603630479318522019-05-11T02:05:00.001-04:002021-07-25T22:43:32.197-04:00Twenty Minutes Pass<span style="color:#990000;">"I'm not crazy. I just needed someone to talk to"<br />
</span><span style="color:#000066;">"Holidays can be a stressful time, but I'm really glad you called"</span><br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"Yeah, right. I'm sure there's nothing else you'd rather be doing"</span><br />
<span style="color:#000066;">"Actually, I'm very happy to be here"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"It's not fair - you know my name but I don't know yours"</span><br />
<span style="color:#000066;">"It's Jason"</span><br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"Jason? Is that your real name or the name they make you use?"</span><br />
<span style="color:#000066;">"The one they make me use. It's really ****"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"So did you lose a coin flip or something?"<br />
</span><span style="color:#000066;">"What do you mean?"</span><br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"I mean how'd you get suckered into working Christmas?"<br />
</span><span style="color:#000066;">"Just lucky, I guess"</span><br />
<br />
Twenty minutes pass.<br />
<br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"So is that pathetic or what?"</span><br />
<span style="color:#000066;">"Actually it sounds like you've handled it pretty well"</span><br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"It just seems like it's getting harder and harder"</span><br />
<span style="color:#000066;">"But you're getting stronger and stronger"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"Karen is not my real name"</span><br />
<span style="color:#000066;">"I know, but that's OK"</span><br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"There's something else I should tell you"</span><br />
<br />
Twenty minutes pass.<br />
<br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"I'm gonna finish watching 'Traveling Pants'"</span><br />
<span style="color:#000066;">"I admit - that made me cry"</span><br />
<span style="color:#990000;">laughing "I should have guessed"</span><br />
<span style="color:#000066;">"Shhh, don't tell anyone"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"I think I'm going to be OK"</span><br />
<span style="color:#000066;">"I think so too"</span><br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"I almost didn't call"</span><br />
<span style="color:#000066;">"It made my day that you did"</span><br />
<br />
Twenty seconds pass.<br />
<br />
<span style="color:#990000;">"Thank you" *click*</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color:#000066;">"No, thank you"</span>Smerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-1135783011693881062019-05-11T02:03:00.003-04:002021-07-25T22:43:47.809-04:00Things That Separate UsA half a lifetime<br />
twenty seven miles<br />
your well-meaning friends<br />
my hidden guilt<br />
<br />
A fraction of an inch<br />
an unspoken promise<br />
a glance in a crowd<br />
the scent of Amarige<br />
<br />
Three more hours<br />
a 12 year old vow<br />
an uneasy laugh<br />
fear of tomorrow morning<br />
<br />
A forlorn sigh<br />
surpressed pain<br />
memories that don't go away<br />
forbidden desire<br />
<br />
A knock at the door<br />
hurt in a child's eyes<br />
a knowing look from a stranger<br />
an ounce of goldSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-1133451183458828562019-05-11T02:02:00.001-04:002021-07-25T22:44:06.674-04:00To Andrea I Never KnewYou don't know who I am but I know everything you want in the world.<br />
You're an innocent soul filled with hope, taking giddy pleasure in simplicity.<br />
Hungry Hungry Hippos<br />
<br />
I've never seen you but I know your eyes are filled with wonder.<br />
You long to explore, uncover and conquer mysterious worlds.<br />
Dragon Books<br />
<br />
We've never spoken but I know what you need.<br />
Child-like joy in winter's fury.<br />
Hat & Mittens<br />
<br />
I've never felt you squeeze my hand but I know what's in your heart<br />
You hide the isolation you feel from being different.<br />
Sparkly Jeans & Soft Sweater - Size 8<br />
<br />
I don't know where you live but I can picture your room<br />
The few things you treasure neatly stowed away.<br />
Floor Puzzle<br />
<br />
I hope I never exist in your world. I wish that you know nothing more than the simple pleasure of getting everything you've asked for on Christmas morning. And more. Because I know you're thankful for everything you have. I won't be there to see it but I know your smile will light up the room and I will feel it in my heart.<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas Andrea - you're more than just a name on a tree.Smerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-35960263982112413492019-05-11T02:01:00.004-04:002021-07-25T22:44:17.926-04:005:37AMShe had left her wineglass half-full <br />
on my copper topped coffee table<br />
from the night before, before bed<br />
directly beneath the vase centerpiece<br />
<br />
a tulip petal had fallen perfectly<br />
and settled into the Bleasdale Shiraz<br />
like a disembodied cupped hand <br />
a ringless finger as the apex<br />
<br />
Addict Basic 253 on the rim<br />
formed a streaked opaque heart<br />
more are scattered round the room<br />
the mirror, a pen, my neckSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-29930229725915421932017-10-15T00:12:00.001-04:002021-07-25T22:44:32.494-04:00XC90We had taken turns driving <br />
But to be honest<br />
she'd done more than her share <br />
Maybe because I needed more sleep <br />
Maybe just because she wanted to get there faster <br />
But you couldn't tell by her pace<br />
five miles above the speed limit<br />
middle lane, no worries about being stopped<br />
She would sing along softly to the radio as I slept<br />
then laugh at my jokes when I took the wheel<br />
I'm not sure when she slept<br />
She followed the GPS's commands to the letter<br />
I shut if off and stopped at every tourist trap<br />
I was never entirely sure when we'd get there<br />
unsure if the destination would be better than the rideSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-36302515537894397062014-11-30T16:10:00.002-05:002021-07-25T22:44:48.038-04:00UnravelingHe callously dismisses her childish desires<br />
And nods condescendingly at her pain<br />
A self-serving, self-absorbed scab<br />
So Penelope weaves<br />
<br />
Then he sees what she's afraid to share<br />
A paradox of frailty and resolve<br />
Touching her until she shudders<br />
And Penelope unravels<br />
<br />
But he's already drunk when she arrives<br />
She begins to talk, he unbuttons her blouse<br />
Cursory and rehearsed rather than intimate<br />
So Penelope weaves<br />
<br />
Then she reads his shrouded verse<br />
An odyssey of perdition and piety<br />
Of weakness and charity<br />
And Penelope unravels<br />
<br />
He scorns her infrequent attempts to discover<br />
Retreats when she feels his breath<br />
Never quite satisfying her hunger<br />
So Penelope weaves<br />
<br />
She labors to solve the wrong riddle<br />
Faithfully and vainly trying new keys<br />
Too timid to ask the obvious<br />
Why bother to unravel if he's never coming home?Smerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-88540466179337445042013-05-15T19:02:00.001-04:002021-07-25T22:45:19.043-04:00My Own MedicineIt was really just pure chance that I was close enough to stumble over to your house <br />
I was at that hotel bar a few blocks away and must have lost track of my drinking <br />
Didn't even realize how far gone I was until I stood up to try to leave <br />
Yeah, I know there are bars that are a lot closer, walking distance even, to my house <br />
But I wasn't even thinking about that when I headed out the door. Swear. <br />
<br />
I was just going to walk for awhile because I accidentally drank my cab money <br />
But then a car drove by and that "Anything For You" song was playing on the radio <br />
You know, the one that you dedicated to me on K105 after I broke up with you? <br />
I thought it was pretty cheesy back then, funny even, but it kinda struck me as I walked <br />
It made me feel guilty for not returning all the voicemails you left that week <br />
<br />
So that song reminded me of you then I remembered your house was close by <br />
I knew you wouldn't be home yet. You're still on second shift at the hospital, right? <br />
That's why I didn't even knock on the door & just headed on back to your porch swing <br />
Maybe to sleep for a while until I sober up enough to drive on back home <br />
I probably should have bought a coffee when I passed that convenience store <br />
<br />
I didn't even hear your car pull into the garage, I was sleeping so hard <br />
Only knew you were home when you closed the door and went inside <br />
Right then I figured I should just go because you were probably to tired to deal <br />
I was going to wait until the lights went out, but I guess you heard me swinging <br />
Don't know why you weren't scared at first, but who else would it have been but me? <br />
<br />
It was real cool of you to invite me in to sleep on your pullout couch <br />
You really really didn't have to do that. But I know you're that kind of person <br />
I promise I'll get up and before your new boyfriend comes over tomorrow <br />
That might be hard to explain. What's that? Oh yeah, I know were just friends now. <br />
And again, I'm really sorry for causing so much trouble. And for that stuff before <br />
<br />
Do you have like a trash can or something that I can keep here next to me? <br />
I should be ok, but 'member that time we rented that beachhouse with Mike & Laura? <br />
I got so plastered and couldn't stop throwing up. I might've had the flu then too <br />
But I felt better the next day because you made me drink fluids and take Tylenol before bed <br />
That was a pretty good weekend, you think? Oh yeah, probably not as much fun for you <br />
<br />
Just go to bed, ok? I'll be fine out here. Besides, you look tired. You should try to get more sleep <br />
I worry about you sometimes thinking about you here all alone without someone to care for you <br />
I really hope you find someone to make you happy. What? He proposed? That's .... good for you <br />
Ummm I'm really happy, but you know what? I feel better now so I'm just gonna go <br />
I'll be alright once I get back to my car. The roads should be pretty clear by now <br />
<br />
One more thing before I leave....... thanks.Smerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-30873010186146009272013-05-15T18:58:00.001-04:002021-07-25T22:45:42.616-04:00Dissociative Identity DisorderI knew a little boy who dodged his shadow, <br />
laughed at thunder & gave his milk money to beggars. <br />
<br />
I knew an old man who cursed his children, <br />
slept in his clothes & drank Finlandia from a coffee cup <br />
<br />
I knew a frat boy who could quote Voltaire, <br />
play a mean scrum half & seduce art history majors <br />
<br />
I knew an uncle who pulled a card from thin air, <br />
loaned money to the undeserving & bought teens beer <br />
<br />
I knew a middle manager who lunched at TGIFridays, <br />
wore birthday ties & looked around before telling a joke <br />
<br />
I knew a boyfriend who bought reasonless flowers, <br />
peeked at cleavage & tried to fix her Honda Civic <br />
<br />
I knew a young deacon who counseled the faithless, <br />
read Genesis 6:5 with conviction & frowned at your tithe <br />
<br />
I knew an unremarkable man who feigned wisdom, <br />
stole money from your purse & left you unsatisfied <br />
<br />
Smerdyakov - 2007Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-45169685871211248082012-08-26T00:37:00.003-04:002021-07-25T22:46:04.460-04:00Happy Valentines DayI was watching my dog watch her <br />
Of course at that point I didn't know what he was watching <br />
I woke up with my eyes oriented in his direction <br />
He must have wandered back into my bedroom after... well, just after. <br />
He was skeptical of her, but was playing it cautious <br />
Laying in his bed in the corner <br />
but ready to leap into action if the situation required it <br />
I looked at him for another minute or so <br />
before turning my gaze to her <br />
She was still naked, running her fingers across my valet case <br />
now just becoming aware of the layout of my bedroom <br />
Becoming less confident than she was the night before <br />
Going drink for drink with me, a complete stranger <br />
an extra button undone on her blouse when I returned from the Men's <br />
But she's was more girl than woman this morning <br />
legitimately caught off guard when she saw me awake <br />
quickly smiling and grabbing the pillow under my head <br />
hugging it longwise against her chest <br />
All of a sudden demure, shy, and reticent <br />
"What's in here?" she asked, gesturing to the mahogany box <br />
"Watches, cufflinks, stuff like that", I replied. <br />
She carefully lifted the lid, curious to confirm. <br />
Slowly thumbing through each compartment <br />
Holding up a random item to examine, before returning it to it's place <br />
"What are these?" now holding a small leather box <br />
"Brass collar stays", I smile. "I despise rolly collars". <br />
She opens the box and withdraws a mismatched pair <br />
One slightly shorter than the other <br />
She grows younger now, looking almost..well.... virginal Smerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-60444160873714202042008-03-13T10:10:00.005-04:002021-07-25T22:50:22.439-04:00SheShi has always been my closest companion<br />my confidante, my lover, my judge<br />touching the lives of the people around me<br />her hand so close to grazing my own<br />I can feel the warmth of her fingertips<br /><br />Shi whispers her name in my ear as I sleep<br />I'm unsure if it's a tease or a prophecy<br />uncertain if I want her to lay down beside me<br />taking me in her willowy arms<br />embracing me as the candle slowly burns<br /><br />Shi comes and goes as she pleases<br />but never quite leaving me alone<br />reminders of her presence litter my room<br />a murder of crows, a salt-pepper ram<br />keep me company until shi returns<br /><br />Shi promises me comfort & redemption<br />alluring in her matte black dress and veil<br />a vision of fate and relentless certainty<br />her broken watch oddly out of place<br />but still keeping perfect time<br /><br />Shi goes days without a single word<br />then blusters on for weeks on end<br />"hominem te esse memento" & "memento mori"<br />repeated until I hear them in my sleep<br />never knowing if she'll be there when I wakeSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-31475164472503376212008-02-08T11:24:00.002-05:002021-07-25T22:50:53.704-04:00IntoccabileI exited the lobby of my hotel<br />temporarily blinded by the reflection<br />off the glass highrise across the street<br />I had to quickly jerk myself back<br />to escape being trampled by commuters<br /><br />I stood motionless waiting for my chance<br />to merge with the industrious crowd<br />not wanting to be absorbed by the bustle<br />shrinking myself to fend off their touch<br />practically leaping into an approaching void<br /><br />I skitted to the right and left<br />nearly colliding with oncoming traffic<br />not even wanting to be casually brushed<br />nor inadvertantly bumped, tapped or rubbed<br />content to be tactually invisible<br /><br />Then I noticed a strange phenomenon<br />just before I would flinch to dodge a passerby<br />they would move away from me instead<br />the more I condensed myself<br />the bigger the buffer they allowed<br />until I was surrounded by an ethereal halo<br /><br />It was warmly comforting..... at first<br />unconcerned with their brutishness<br />lengthening my stride, slowing my gait<br />brazenly immune to my environment<br />my own aura of sanctuary<br /><br />But as I reached out my open hand<br />to aid a fallen pedestrian<br />her purse strewn across the pavement<br />she suddenly withdrew from me<br />with a sickening churlishness<br /><br />And she wasn't alone in her revulsion<br />a colleague refused my handshake<br />a grandmother dismissed my embrace<br />a lover spurned all intimacy<br />as my sanctuary became a prisonSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16065246.post-81593151673562359232007-12-28T22:20:00.002-05:002021-07-25T22:51:41.493-04:00Venetian PlasterI was eighty-five miles away<br />close enough to think about driving home<br />far enough away to justify staying the night<br />a ring not quite on my finger<br />her ring not quite on hers<br /><br />Reading Freaky Deaky in strip mall B&N<br />She was doing a Q&A for her book<br />an anthology of local murders, I think<br />it wasn't something I'd ask about<br />I just overheard every other question<br /><br />She walked by twice, hoping I'd stop her<br />before she said that Leonard seemed light for me<br />I asked her what my middle name was<br />She said "I don't know, I don't know you"<br />I sneared "And don't you forget it"<br /><br />Dean Koontz was her brain candy<br />I couldn't read him after Lightning<br />but we both liked DeMille<br />me for Cathedral & her for Charm School<br />It would be easy to get her home<br />but hard to get her undressed<br /><br />I left my car in the parking lot<br />she drove a Prius or an Insight<br />I can't tell them apart<br />to an upscale cookie cutter flat<br />Minimalism could have been her style<br />but she was probably just poor<br /><br />We drank cheap wine out of Riedel Sommelier glasses<br />She talked about Proust<br />I pretended to listen<br />until it was my turn to talk<br />about Lennon's nigger and The End<br />She ruined my favorite sweater<br />I got hard anyhow<br /><br />She said she needed to change<br />I waited a half hour<br />then opened her bedroom door<br />she slept with a pillow between her legs<br />in a bra and panties<br />her alarm set for six ayem<br />I took 3 Ambiens from her cabinet<br />and fell asleep against her bathroom door<br /><br />I woke when the pool opened at noon<br />her long gone for work, presumably unshowered<br />I went through her photo albums<br />the same boy at her prom<br />and again from just last year<br />I ripped out all his pictures<br />then burned them in the sink before I leftSmerdyakovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10072423297015047346noreply@blogger.com