Tag Archives: water

Chapter 2 – Marrige: If you can’t spell it, you shouldn’t do it!

12 Sep

Marriage proposals

Over beer and rock-n-roll

Don’t want to go

Home on

His wedding night

Driving me sober

From insanity’s grip

Or was it hers?


Calls me

Long distance

On the shore of an ocean

Never seen

By me

I’ll take a boat someday

Into the safety of a

Lover from my past

Part of my future

Depending on the waves

That carry me

Not all made of water


Chapter 2 – Understanding

27 Jul

Snake drawing

Nympho scrawling

Sin sharing

Name dropping

Skin shedding



Given warnings

Lead pipes

Heavy lungs

Someone sits

Barstool breaks

Glass splinters

Bare feet

Come with me

To eternity

Where all is known

And nothing

Gets mentioned

Where lovers hide

And children play

And it rains

And it cleanses

The bad things away

Until no one is laughing

Until there is

No more

Chapter 2 – The Problem with Water

16 Jul

Feels like a slow motion picture show

Carries its cargo like tracks with no train

Current electricity flowing through veins

Blue bridges calming the damned

Caresses as a lover’s touch

Wraps us in mother’s blankets

Cradles our swollen limbs

Whispers of treachery

Comes and goes without warning

Disappearing on the hot days

Abusing its welcome in winter

Flows slow to the end of the road

Only to follow us back again

Wrinkles flesh

Makes me drowsy

The problem with water

Is everywhere

It covers me some days like a rush

Of fresh warm air and other days

Like another woman’s stare

Chapter 1 – Consolable River

27 Jun

Known are we

Into such precarious pretense

You, quivering a foretaste

Of our predestined kiss.

You, deceptively straight-forward

An arrow aimed

at underwater prey.

A tower of burnished passion

Leashed by sentimental love

Chained to worldly possessions

Set free on fate’s truest hand

Caged but not imprisoned –

A selfish man with a long-term plan

his (in) security.

Enjoy your women as flowers in a vase

My love cannot blossom there among

Such leggy stems

Competing for standing water.

You must become the river ever-changing

Your white water the turbulence of expression

Your whirlpools enticing me to exploration.

I walk your sand shore

Dowsed by your sullen waves

I feel the pull of your current

Swift and sudden.

Will I never feel your liquid touch surround me?

Am I never to be carried in the arms of such a powerful force as you?

You challenge me not to sink to your level.

I should forgive myself strength

And you, succumb

To the merry, whimsical pull

Of your nature

Your passion

We could drown our

selves in that consolable river.

Chapter 1 – The Countdown

25 May

The countdown has begun

Young man’s mind

Gone to porridge

In a padded cell.





Dinner robe.

Dirty black jeans

Smug photographer.

Fashion frog

Pissing in the hands

Of mannequins.

Pretty prim princess

Throws her golden ball

To smash regal warted body

Leaping, croaking in wake

Of slimy sex


Yet the tadpoles swim on

In warm womb water

Of mother murder.

SDH Pt. 8 – Another day, another $32 after taxes

22 Dec

Here, I bought you some water. Drink up, R. says. What a guy. Not one of my other drivers has even offered me a drink. Luckily, I brought my own after the first day of being without for two hours. I did have gum, which is the only thing that made it tolerable. Not running is thirsty work.

We’re getting along great. My pet peeves are his pet peeves. It’s Smart Water he says—even better for you than just plain water. Yes, I say. Thank you. It tastes great. Out here in the country the drive ways are more than long, they’re distant. He drops me off at one, drives to the next and then turns around for me. Don’t worry he says, I’ll always come back. It really had not occurred to me that he wouldn’t. Something makes me feel grateful that I texted my location or at least my last location to my friends before I hopped in the truck. Beware of dogs! He shouts as he rolls away.

It’s kinda creepy navigating through the overgrown bush of the wild places in peoples’ front yards out here. It’s also almost exactly how I would choose to leave my land if I had some. Lush, native with little to no “improvement”. I feel an uneasy comfort approaching the fenced in exotics many locals keep as pets or game. Zebras, Oryx (a sort of long-horned antelope), llamas, ostrich and the spiral horned goat-looking thing that rammed our car at the drive-through zoo a couple years ago. Texas: It really is like a whole ‘nuther country.

R. does return and compliments me on my graceful three-point entrance with a caveat. Can you speed it up a little? Sure, thing! I say, wondering if my other drivers felt the same way. Please do let me know if there is anything else I can do to help you out or improve what I’m already doing, I add. Oh, I’m pretty outspoken, says R. yet somehow I don’t really believe him. He startles when I laugh and rarely makes eye-contact even when he is not driving.

I’m thinking we’ve already had some pretty deep conversations when somehow, we get on the topic of religion. R. wants me to know that he is a repressed Catholic boy. His words. I begin to wonder where this is going when he asks how come I’m not drinking my water. I really should be. It’s a tall bottle – maybe 32 oz. and I’ve only made a dent in it around 1/8 of the way down.  Oh, right, I say and grab the bottle instinctively, already falling into my normal pattern of obedience and control in the presence of a tractable male. It’s comfortable here. In fact, I feel so comfortable and safe that even as the lip of the bottle touches my lips I can’t recall if the lid snapped when I turned it off the first time. The text of a little yellow sticker flashes through my mind—Do not consume if safety seal has been broken.

Did it snap or didn’t it? I can’t remember! I’m starting to feel sleepy just thinking about it. Is that his plan? I wonder how many of us have gone before? But he’s a delivery guy, they do background checks! How would he maintain a career and a normal life? They always do. And they’re the nice ones too. The ones who get along just fine with everyone. The quiet ones. He was a great neighbor—never a bother. What a tragedy.  Who’d have guessed? All these years he’s been luring seasonal driver helpers out into the country, drugging them into the back of his truck and driving them home like a COD who didn’t answer the door.  You never know what’s going to be inside, but it’s got to be good.

Holy crap! I’m driving around in the middle of nowhere, TX with a serial killer! Suddenly, time slows down to a crawl. I feel very, very calm. All I have to do is stay awake. He’s not aggressive, at least not yet. He probably won’t attack unless I’m unconscious. Okay. So, no more water. But, how do I maintain the façade that I am drinking it and Jesus, God I am SO very thirsty all the sudden. I have mine own water in my bag in the back but how would that look? I take little sips and hold it in my mouth for a while hoping something in my saliva counteracts the sedative before I swallow. Thrity-six more stops before break-time he announces me out of my thoughts. I don’t’ know about you, but I have to take a potty break! Oh wow, okay maybe he is human after all. The other two never even mentioned it.

Of course he’s human. That doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer. They hire these seasonal helpers en masse. One or two could easily go missing. They’re just the type no one would miss either because they’re the ones who are always doing something just a little out of the norm. If he starts to ask me about my family connections, I’ll know he’s researching. The problem with that is even though I love my family dearly and they love me right back they would absolutely not question my absence for at least two days before beginning to inquire. By then, I could be buried in this guy’s backyard.

At least he’s nice. I mean, if you’re going to be heinously murdered I suspect the experience could be made as pleasant as possible by a caring killer. He seems genuinely interested in my “real” job. Raised his voice for the first time all day when he exclaimed, how COOL it must be to do the thing I do. To get into the minds of my clients and give them exactly what they want, even when they don’t know what that thing might be. Well, at least that’s the goal, I respond quietly almost modestly; secretly thinking wow, this guy really gets it. I’m probably glowing in the dark. I’m definitely smiling as we pass by the bank of mailboxes in one of those incredibly weird sub-divisions where all the houses are packed tightly next to one another for a few miles surrounded by vacant land again, and again, and yes. We ARE driving in circles.

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