Water Lilly Alley

Sometimes, Love is Like That.

From behind a shade 
of a provocative
lilac-quartz lipstick
and sporting just
the right amount of tattoos,
(nine)

the waitress smiled and asked
“What will it be?”

Looking up
I realized that love
had just arrived
and with it,
a name tag: Lana.

Before long Lana
and I were spending
afternoons together as
summer
slid into fall,
fall into winter. 

We married in January,
in June, two became three.

Before long,
three became four.
Her mother
made five.

Two kids,
a mortgage,
a car and a truck,
a boat, and a new mother.

Love slipped into the hallway… and waited.

Along with Mother,
came luggage: 62 years of ideology,
as much theology
and a make-up kit filled
with a personal willingness
to change everything
except
herself. 

Lana, picked up her art degree,
I picked up a second job.

Art led to Arnold
Arnold to the affair that brought home
arguments beginning
in why and ending in :
 “No” and “Never

The youngest found drugs,
death found the youngest.

Love slipped into the breakfast nook,
stopped and looked around.

Mother died and the oldest applied for a sex change.

Stares for breakfast.
Vicodin at the office.
Oranges chasing vodka for lunch.
Gin chasing traffic all the way home.
Wine for dinner,
what if(s) for dessert.

Another affair,
more nothings,
a second mortgage
and the question of “Who needs a boat?”
begins to make sense.

Love slips into the backyard and crouches.

Depression
and despair,
alcoholism
and aloneness,
fear and desperation
become incestuous lovers
taunting all your used to be(s)

Arthritis and assisted living
have become your best friends.

And as love looks around,
she readies to pounce into nothingness,

I  look back up at the waitress

and say…

Just Coffee.  

Angelina

I remember when you told me that the only way GI Joe could win the war was for him to come in shootin' and screaming from behind the wheel of a Tonka truck.

That bacon wrapped around a baseball glove, tucked into a wonder bread bag and left on the roof for three days would guarantee a soft catch for the season.

That bullies had a weak spot and as disgusting as it was, all you had to do was grab it, twist and hang on.

That girls also had a weak patch, that it was a bit higher and could turn on you if one weren’t careful.

But what I remember most, was sitting on the curb under the glow of a summer street lamp, lighting Styrofoam cups on fire with wooden diamond matches and spelling out Jenny and Mark or was it Danny and Angie: Love hissing in droplets of flame before being called in for dinner. Yes what I remember most was the surprised look on your face when I began telling you about doll heads, wonderful, wonderful doll heads.

Ever Wonder?

Ever wonder what happens of

Old men,
childless women,

little Boy's dreams,
three legged dogs,
caged birds,

hurried Sundays,

and boxcars
that people long
gave up counting…

when no one is looking?