Friday, May 2, 2008

Slow Dance

It's the bandaid holding his glasses together that cinches this one for me. Also, it reminds me of the words of a guy I worked with long ago, "I never have sex standing up... it could lead to dancing."

Got an email from a pal yesterday who wrote, " DO you think of that bloggy schtuff @ that hour of the morning?? Gads..."

Oh, I don't know. Really, I don't.

Sometimes it crawls into bed with me the night before, and like an eager lover pries and prods all night long.

Sometimes it’s just there at ohgod o'clock, much like my silently staring cat, when I open my eyes in the morning. Just sitting. Just waiting. Allowing me to wend my way up from dreams before it begins pacing and demanding attention.

Sometimes it rises along with the steam in my first cuppa bean. The scent hits the air, my awareness kicks in, and I fine-tune it.

Sometimes I have to sift for it. It's in there somewhere, that little sparkling speck, floating amid the rest of the flotsam.

Sometimes I have to dig. It's like the old coffee can your relatives used to hide money in that's buried somewhere in the back yard. If only I could remember where I buried it.... it's there. I know it.

Sometimes it’s nowhere to be found and I have to fake it. You'd be surprised at how realistic a woman can make a phoney orgasm sound. Not that I ever... I wouldn't... I don't need to... oh, nevermind.

It's all just there. Somehow. One could easily say that I'm just ....


Pronunciation: kwik-sot-ik
adjective; Origin: 1805–15; Don Quixote + ic
1. resembling or befitting Don Quixote.
2. extravagantly chivalrous or romantic; visionary, impractical, or impracticable.
3. impulsive and often rashly unpredictable.
Synonyms: fanciful, fantastic, imaginary


  1. Morning people, I celebrate us.
    There are people who can't get up early.
    There are people who can get up early.
    There are people who will get up early.
    This poem celebrates the few, the Mutants and Monsters who look forward to Spring as the beginning of extended mornings, whose energy hits its stride at 9AM(the bane of fellow office workers everywhere-A FUCKING MORNING PERSON), a person, who at 3pm acts like non-morners do at 5:30 am(How can anyone be chipper at 3pm is beyond me-Fucking afternooners)

    Enjoy-Pizza chance

    by Billy Collins

    Why do we bother with the rest of the day,
    the swale of the afternoon,
    the sudden dip into evening,

    then night with his notorious perfumes,
    his many-pointed stars?

    This is the best
    throwing off the light covers,
    feet on the cold floor,
    and buzzing around the house on espresso

    maybe a splash of water on the face,
    a palmful of vitamins
    but mostly buzzing around the house on espresso,

    dictionary and atlas open on the rug,
    the typewriter waiting for the key of the head,
    a cello on the radio,

    and if necessary, the windows
    trees fifty, a hundred years old
    out there,
    heavy clouds on the way
    and the lawn steaming like a horse
    in the early morning.

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