Rev A Solution

There are times when I feel like I could stop breathing,
or maybe should stop,
like a bomb could explode right outside of our back door
and instead of it not making a difference to anyone
but my friends and family, it would change the world.


It should change the world,
but rather it would be printed in the local paper,
neighbors who never knew us mourning just because of proximity,
that they should have known us
but never took the time to do anything but look up as we drove by.


I wonder if everyone thinks about creating a revolution;
one that becomes the hugest in history, like Hitler
and how he killed those Jews, but then I watch everyone turn on the
TV, not paying attention to the real comedy in this world, and instead
laughing with the rest of commercial America to actors/actresses they will never be.


How do I start a revolution? How do I become the next Martin Luther?
I’m not black or anything special but a woman and no one wants to hear
some woman talkin’ bout corrupt politicians, as if a woman actually knows
something about politics, talkin’ bout people lying about what they say
they stand for, talkin’ bout poverty and hate. No one wants to hear me but me.


There are times when I want to threaten a news caster with a knife,
to let me speak, and there are times when the right song could
push me to do it. There are times when I have rocks in my chest
from thinking about it, hearing about it, and I want to throw them
at the TV screens of Americans. But then a commercial comes on and I flip the channel


with the rest of America.

An Alphabet Song

(you fell through a song sheet)

grab my face, swallow my sweat,
eat my juice, pound these drums;
we are not going anywhere. scorn
your throat from kissing me? blink.


I can't.

I can't pull away from you, this latitude.
Hold my skin, touch my feet, listen
to my breath, lick my lobe. kiss.
should we talk it over?


could you?

vertical ruffles in my thighs strum
like a wooden guitar entertaining a
gray sidewalk. kiss me again. numb,
make me feel the pianos, the viola's,
the orchestra, the conductor, the theater.


we could.

run with four pockets and two shirts,
no shoes. pick my waist up, pull
it towards yours. stare. press, bite
your own lip, then mine. I'm about to
kiss you.

For Deb

For the most part, we live in the moment, simply going through the motions because it is easier to do than trying to explain or discover why we are here. That big question. What's our purpose? Why am I here? Seconds go by, in the car, in the kitchen, senseless minutes that we will never be able to get back. They are all lost in an infinite existence close to our minds, our memory. Sometimes I take particular notice to those seconds, the ones I unintentionally just paid absolutely no mind to and I pick them apart, set them aside, *like the black jellybeans in the fish bowl. Remember those waiting-room distraction books at the dr's office? You open the book, study a scene until you believe 110% that you have memorized that entire scene to the last piece of grass, and you continue on to the next page to answer a few simple questions: how many ducks were in the pond? was the mailbox open or closed? what color was the mailbox?
.....................

And about 5 seconds ago you could have made a sworn statement and described that entire scene to the investigation ward at the precinct but now, with that list of questions and words and proclaimed images in your head, you have NO IDEA. Your heart races. You feel dumb, and that deep urge to turn the page, just a small peak to trigger your memory, starts to eat at you. If you just see a flash, you just know that you will remember that the mailbox was green or that it was open. But in real life, this life, there is no way to peak back and study those scenes that we so utterly believed we would remember for the rest of our lives.


I have this notion instilled that maybe it is better to live in your head than to live in the world. Things, people, places, they never go away in your head, well, that is, when you think about them so much. They never get snatched away, you never have to say goodbye or goodnight, or worry about them leaving you, hurting you. They are there and the only thing that can change that is you. Unfortunately, that is the nature of life. I know that my two friends are hurting tremendously and surely, there is nothing anyone can say or do to help them right now. In horrendous situations, I have always reminded myself of a certain phrase, "this too, shall pass," but I can't apply it this time.

Which brings me back to my first point. That stupid question. "Why?" It sounds so traditional to say, but she is/was one of the most amazing people I have ever met. She had this way about her that made you open up, made you laugh, smile, no matter what, no matter how long it had been since you had last seen her. Of all people to be taken from them, us.... why her? There are thieves and derelicts and horrible people that are given the chance everyday to live through those unsurpassed moments, not giving a split second to the thought of how good a home-cooked meal tastes, or a kiss on the forehead feels. I'm just heartbroken right now. Heartbroken for Nicole and Dana and F. For all the hundreds of people that came to say goodbye and goodnight to Deb, their mother, best friend, heart and soul. For her sisters and brothers and nieces and nephews. For her long-time AND new-school friends. She sure did accomplish more than a lifetime at the age of 52. Unbelievable.



"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight." ~Kahlil Gibran


I love you and miss you so much Deb!! XXOOXOXOOX