I Shall Miss You

We met by design a long time ago
I respected your knowledge
And that which you were.
The fact that you were Mrs Someone
was not an issue.
The Mrs part was frosting- it wasn't the cake.
The cake was of dubious quality to begin.
You can't tame what was meant to be wild and free.
You leashed Nature
Nature broke the leash.
It also broke your heart.
You could have learned from it-you didn't.
In your mind, you made the cake darker and richer
Than the real cake had ever been.
You felt that you got older , fatter and sorrow made you more ugly
You were none of those things
Except in your mind.
And now we have come to the parting
Parting with who you once were
Parting with principles in which you believed.
If the you of then saw the you today-
Then you would do as I did .
And walk away.
Goodbye.

The Last Book

Sara was assigned to detention in the library. For cutting her sophomore English class, the pretty blonde cheerleader , was condemned to reshelve books. Budget cuts had diminshed the library staff by half- and the grunt work fell to students caught violating academic policy.
"This stuff, " she thought to herself " should all be on computers and not on shelves." Not thinking, she popped her gum-Poof, her keeper, the afternoon librarian seemed to appear out of thin air, tissue and wastebasket in hand. "Now, Ms Carter" intoned the voice from above sternly while pushing both at her . Sighing heavily, the gum went into the tissue and the tissue into the wastebasket. "Lose the attitude" commanded the librarian. Then she was gone."Whatever" thought Sara.
She pushed the book trolley slowly down the aisles. She had tried on her first day just placing the, amywhere only to learn that she was spot checked. Four misplaced books and she would garner yet another day here in this Hell hole.
Alcott, Bronson then Louisa...Dickens,Charles...did Byron go under Byron or Gordon...it was not fair . Checking the number on the spine, she found the proper place quickly...Adams, Joy and George...Darwin...Freud ...Von Frantz...Campbell. She looked at the clock -it had barely moved...but the sky was darkening as if night were approaching.The sound that ruled her world like water torure was that of the clock marching out its minutes...
She emptied the tables at the end of each aisle onto her cart and organized them by number. She could sit while she sorted. Then she pushed the book trolley around the next corner like some aged quietly squeaking guerney. The afternoon librarian appeared once again- this time with some WD40 spray for the wheels. She looked disapprovingly at the sulky teenager and then at her watch. Forty five mins left to play warden today.
Bloch,Bradbury,Derleth, Doyle...Shelley, Stoker,Wylie,Yarboro...Honestly-Sara wondered why the students could not put anything away themselves...but then if it were on computer they would not have the need. Program would take care of it.
Done! The crone at the desk was amiable THIS time to Sara leaving just a few minutes early and signed her detention slip. The pursing of the middle aged librarian's lips said that she did not approve of Sara and maybe not of her generation. Freedom at last...she could go. Though her youth was demanding that she run , prudence and the thought of additional detention on the track for running slowed her to a quick walk.The corridors were empty...Three days done and she was free.
Her locker opened with surprising ease that afternoon...she slid into her jacket and popped her ear buds into her ears...she turned to leave wheh her foot touched something hard - a book - and not just a book but a library book. She thought about throwing it away but was afraid that it would be picked up by reported security cams.Her locker became stubborn and refused to open. She walked as if chained back to the library with the gait of dead man walking on death row. Sara did not want to do this.
The door was open and she walked to the desk. Any time that she had gained by leaving early had been lost by returning the book. Angrily , she threw it carelessly across the polished faux oak desk and it cracked into the wall, damaging the spine.
"Oh dear dear dear" moaned the afternoon librarian ,from the wall. " I had so hoped that you would be the one that made it. " She recovered the damaged tome " I shall have to repair it...yes ,indeed..."
The old woman was batty- thought Sara and turned to leave once more but something soft and squishy was wrapped around her ankles- tenacles. Sara began to scream only to have her throat sprayed with alum by the distraught librarian. Shhhhhh!!!!We can't have any of that in here" The grip of the tenacles tightened and Sara pantomined her panic...The librarian watched..."Oh no my dear" said she "You failed the test...and of course ,we donot know where you went after you punched out .I signed it myself , you know...Sara felt herself being dragged back towards the fantasy section...and on the table at the end of the aisle lay the damaged book. If she had had a voice- Sara would have screamed. But ,of course, that was not permitted in the library.

The book remained on the aisle table though out the night. In the morning, Beth appeared for detention. Dark hair, nose ring- she was considered attractive by Goth standards. "Hey, cool" she said, picking the last book off the aisle table, When did we get a new copy of " Tales of Cthulu Mythos" ?"
"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! " said the morning librarian . Then she smiled.

Truth in

The biggest "problem' that I have
With girls' stories amd women's literature,
and so called "chick flicks" is that they sell
The female a bill of goods.
The message being relationship
Will solve ALL YOUR PROBLEMS.
Relationship not hard work
Is the Balm.
Relationship not success
Is the Salve to bind a wounded life.
Relationship not accomplishment
Is the way to go.
Of course, in these ads for relationship,
Prince Charming is never abusive.
He never lies around the house in a ripped
Lucky tee shirt bearing the name of some
Faded Glory of some team long ago reorganized.
Burping beer.
Everything is covered in the petals of roses.
No one ever sees the carburator soaking in gasoline in the bathtub.
Woodland creatures do the housework while mice sew for the children.
Grease under YOUR fingernails? Perish the thought!
Cinderella would have found an afternoon alone in the ashes
Of her stepmother's house restful.
Wicked step sisters could not possibly have called her name
More times than hyperactive, over caffinated, sugared up , artifically flavored
Children screaming " Mommy, Mommy!"
It is probably a good thing that Sleeping Beauty slept
For one hundred years before marrying her prince.
Its probably the LAST good sleep she will have
For quite awhile.
Princes come with prices- lo fat, always hungry, need to beat the
Younger and . perhaps, prettier princesses off with a stick
or an M16- what ever happens to be lying around your craft room.
Princes can get fat and be distinquished, prosperous.
But poor Princess This or That has gained five lbs.
It will be back to the scullery for her ,if she does not watch out.
As if we were not ALWAYS there anyway.
Some of them are just organized by Martha Stewart
Where one can get a meal in less than thirty minutes.
I once found a menu that was cooked that promised dinner for four in TWELVE minutes.
Such promises may not live up to expectations.
they do not take skinned knees and falls from trees into account.
Relationships are part of life .
Movies and women's stories are fiction.
Perhaps we need to post the warning on the weight loss commericals
On all of the literature, movies and television shows marketed for
Women and girls.
Warning: May not reflect actual average results.

Time's Up.

I really hate it when you think that you know me.
When you think that you know it all.
How can I trust you to keep me safe ?
To keep me reasonably sane ?
If you are never on my side?

Elder ? You are no Elder of mine.
Let me tell you Buddy- you are out of time.
I thought that I knew you once
But that was long ago-
I was a kid.
What did I know?

Now you call me and demand I tell you WHY ?
I'm pissed , I am angry that you don't even
TRY.
Easy Answers, easier words
That's what you crave.
Apologies are easy.
True work is hard.

Excuses, Excuses - Of those I have had enough.
You seek to smooth over,
Never attacking the root problem.
You glaze the surface
But Never seek the core.

Shall I go on? Do you even hear me?
Or am I shouting into a storm ?
Can you hear me as the rain whips my body?
As Thunder drowns me out?
The chaos you live in daily.
I have had enough.

The answer lay in you hand.
You blew your nose on it ,
Tossing it into the cyclone that is your life.
I watched it whirl and whirl higher and higher .
It got stuck up in a tree.
It stayed there until it ripped to shreds.

The shreds spread color that suited you.
Violent purples, electric blues, ruby blood drops
Throughout the story.
You collect people like Galloup collects polls.
Majority wins.

I am not and have never been part of the majority.
You said that you knew that when we first met.
Words are easy , true work is hard.
And you are lazy.


But you never ever ask your self
What if the majority were wrong?

Mom

Was raised in a household of respect.
Her Father loved her but did not own her.
Her Mother taught her all the things that she needed to survive.
She owned her soul and her body.

When she went away to college, she was a good student .
Flawless in organic and inorganic chemistry throughout.
She was brave enough to walk away when she did not like a situation.
She owned her soul and her body.
"Too serious , too picky "chirped student opinion.
"Too picky , too serious " the voice in her head echoed back.
"She will never get her MRS. THAT WAY..." warned the voice of the Future.

When my mother married, my grandfather told her all the way down the aisle,
" You DO NOT have to DO this. Walk away now.
. You will give your body and lose your soul."
She shook her head,the Empress train trailing behind.
Tears welling in her eyes, she turned to her father one last time .
" My Mother gave her body and did not lose her soul."
She brushed her hand against her father's weary face , kissed him once.
Then matriculated to her MRS.
Her father whispered from the pew " But he is NOT me. I thought that you were smarter."

When my mother lived her marriage, she began to see the flaws in my father's glamour.
That he was jealous that she could earn more.
That people liked her better than him.
And his mother said " Teach her to Obey. Only children are spoiled."
Yes, he thought, only children are spoiled.
He took a vial of poisonous worms from his coat.
Then he sat down to dinner.

He slid the first one into her salad as she brought him a cup of coffee.
She smiled and sat . The worm was unseen against the salad.
" You were too picky, too serious in school. You are lucky that he married you.
He is the man and you must not embarrass him by making too much money . by having too many friends. " She swallowed the worm whole, never tasting it.
Its toxin spread and she Believed.

On Sunday, they went to her parents' home.
My father slid the second worm into my mother's drink.
She picked up the crystal glass as her father gave a toast to her new life.
The ruby lipstick from her lips glazed the glass.
" A GOOD wife gives her husband children" insinuated the worm.
"The Bible said to go forth and multiply. You are a bad wife and he will leave you.
You are a bad woman and God will hate you."
Mother cried at the beauty of the toast and the whispers of the worm.
Its toxin spread and she BELIEVED.

Two daughters later, my father brought my mother a box of Rexall chocolate covered cherries, took her out to dinner and hired a sitter for my infant sister and me.
He slipped the third worm into the creme brulee dessert.
" A Good wife ," began the worm," gives her husband SONS to carry on his name. You are ungrateful for his efforts. You cry alone when he accuses you and the girls of being why he has no money. You should not cry but do your duty..."
Its toxin spread and she BELIEVED.

The ghost of the woman that my mother had been grabbed her by the shoulders one morning as she did the family laundry.
As the wringers squeezed the clothes to go on the line of the porch in a place
where her Father's occasional help would not have lived, the hands of the ghost
squeezed her head and mended her soul.
"Where is the woman that you set out to be?
Have I been gone so long that you do not remember me?
Tell me the spell by which you are held
I will cure you , all will be well."

" I am leaving you" Mother said, " The children and I. I will get a job. Or at least I intend to try."
We children from the room were rushed . The door was shut . The house was hushed.
My father sped out with the speed of light.
"We'll be back " whispered the worms . " We Will win this fight."

Two days later, back he came. Bended on knee , claiming to be ashamed.
He said he did not feel well and would she drive the car?
He was going to the doctor. It was not very far.
On that dark Thursday , my mother's ghost was exorcized.
The worms had won the day.
For three months my mother was away.

The babies to my Aunts went on my father's side.
I was left to live there to balm his sense of pride.
A neighbor teen came in every day
to watch me when my father was away.
My mother didn't come home- the doctors said not now.
I feared that she was changing but I did not know how.

They led the body home and it sat down in a chair.
I looked into her eyes . There was no one there.
" Bonjour Mama" My little voice intoned.
" I think I know you. Can you tell me if I'm home? "
You are home and I'm your first.
Where have you been?
Tell me the worst.

"The worst, my dear, is that I was once some one else.
Now I am waiting to be told who is myself.
I want to please my husband,
He had them drain me dry.
He's going to rebuild me - and I've forgotten how to cry."

I looked up from my homework.
And she asked me what it was.
I told her multiplication.
She asked me to teach her
Because it was gone.
So everyday before my father returned home,
I taught her back the things she'de lost
in his sad attack.

My best efforts were too small,
It was my mother's body
but not my Mom at all.

The other two returned home,
Which the worms whispered was good.
Because only children are spoiled.

They ran her day
They ran her night
They kept way too tired to fight.
She got too thin.
Too tired and frail.
She never left the house.
It had become her jail.

One afternoon soon after,
I came straight home from class.
And found my mother's body,
from her moisturizer picking glass.
My sister broke the bottle.
She feared my father's wrath.
He would not buy another.
I handed her my cash.
I dabbed the little cut place,
where she had missed a piece.
It was the one time that her ghost hugged me - and then it was released.

I am not my father's daughter though I have called him DAD.
For the things he did to Mother, I sometimes get so mad.
I've seen the worms, I have heard the worms.
" Too smart too picky, too picky too smart..."
And my Self says " SO?"
And rejoices as I drop the worms into the garbage disposal , one by one,
Run the water and flip the switch.

Alice Every Day

Somewhere between whom I am
And who I want to be,
Is the woman that I know today as Me.

Her skin is too tight,
A feeling that I know.
It won't be long before I have to go.

Where I am going,
I have no idea.
The one thing I can tell you,
Is it won't be here.

Here was nice , once upon a time.
But the life that was lived here.
Won't be mine.
It belonged to someone,
Who came from some place far.
But now like Alice, I drunk the contents of a jar.

MY head has hit the ceiling
Limbs have burst the walls.
For limits that were placed here
I have grown too tall.

I have searched for the cake.
Its becoming ever clear.
That wherever it is hiding .
It is not here.

The Choice ( a serial work of fiction) Part 15

I pulled the back door shut behind me as I returned to the kitchen. I looked one more time out of the window over the stainless steel sinks . No, nothing had changed - everything was no longer on the black asphalt driveway. Perhaps I was going crazy. I headed towards the front stairs , thinking to gather up my clothes and do a laundry. I rounded the corner, only to find Duncan sitting on the gold couch in the living room. His fingers tapped nervously on the upholstered arm.
" Your uncle," his rich voice rolled over me like an ocean wave, knocking me off my feet," would be disappointed with your lack of good sense. " He pulled an old stainless steel lighter , pulled a cigarette out of what appeared to be a matching cigarette case. He lit it, sucked briefly on it . he went to the living room window and looked through it and out at the garage before turning and facing me . Half to himself, he said"Rome wasn't built in a day. These things take time..." then he turned and looked at me. He placed the cigarette in a leaded glass ashtray . He looked straight into my eyes. " Young woman. "he began. "You did some very foolish things today . Let us review them. You saw the items outside the garage, then you did not,isn't that so? Then, you thought that you would be Nancy Drew and find the culprit,is that not so?" I swallowed and nodded. " Yes. I know it is. You did not lock the back door behind you , which is how I came in. You never saw me because you were not looking. You cannot do that any more. You MUST pay attention. Too much depends on it." I nodded again and his great heavy arm came around my shoulder protectively. " what are you supposed to do, what were you TOLD to do IF something weird happened?"

I breathed slowly. I felt stupid and five years old . caught playing with matches. " If something weird happened, I am, I was, to call your house...because there were measures set in place to deal with such occurances." He squeezed my arm gently then patted my back.

"Exactly".

" There are things going on that you donot have the experiance. Remember what your uncle told you. "

" How did you know about today?"

He smiled. " It was accidental. And to answer your next question," he began holding up his hand" Its my house and I was looking for something which I found. " Looking at my puzzled eyes, he went on" Did you not think it odd that the burglar would be so neat about it?"

I had to admit that it was true but that my curiosity had gotten the better of my good sense. He laughed gently , " I thought so. I WILL have to mention this , of course."

Duncan lowered his head, kissed my forehead , fatherly. He recovered his cigarette and opened the front door. " Keep the doors locked, Okay? "

"okay" I replied, following him to the front door and locking all of the locks after he left.