Posts Tagged ‘Frank Sinatra’

Je t’ai Dans la Peau

November 5, 2019

 

My tattoo is but days old.

Did you realize, my love, my sweet—

My heart.

(you have flown off with it yet again)

That when you spoke to me of me,

My impact on you.

My love for you.

 

My effect on your life–

 

You spoke to me in the

PAST TENSE.

Not in the present.

Not in the future.

All in the past.

 

Le passe compose

 

My least favorite tense in French, darling.

Post haste my love.

Post box full of love notes for you.

Photos of you in my phone.

My God you are gaunt.

The weight you have lost running.

Running away from us.

Running away from me.

Running away from yourself.

 

Running down to the sea,

Bare headed before the moon.

On your knees in the sand.

Sobbing.

I heard you there, your cries echoed in my bones.

I wept with you.

 

But not near you.

 

Tous les jours

Je fait l’amour.

Tous les jours.

 

All my wants/hope/dreams

All in the imperfect past.

 

Thus, am I to embody this grief.

My back crawls with it, the itch of sorrow.

Keening again as the crow flies.

You.

 

&

 

Me.

 

Bunny.

 

Out on a limb flowered with pain

Petals of sorrow,

Whisper soft sweet

Scratched on to my back

 

 

My back, my back, flat on my back

Holding my breath waiting for it to end.

Feeling the cold  tile pressed pattern of squares

Ground into the small of my back.

 

 

I was so cold, it was so, so cold.

Like.

Sugar drowned in milk.

 

And then.

All the waiting.

The waiting for you.

All those years.

All those decades.

I danced down so many roads,

Waiting for you.

 

And now.

This journey of a thousand miles,

This journey of a thousand tears—

Leaves me with nothing to do but wipe the blood from my back.

Wipe the tears from my face

(In every flower I see your face)

Stand up, stand back.

Rise anew.

Crafted in the cloak of my being.

Ever present.

Ever perfect.

Ever here.

Croaked the crow.

Ever more.

My love.

Never more, my love.

Yet.

Ever yours, my love.

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Frank Sinatra

December 25, 2017

Christmas carols.

Laying in your arms in the glow of the blue lights on the tree.

My heart beat syncopated with yours.

Warm, soft tears slide down my face.

I hope you do not notice.

Content and wrapped in your embrace a softening shelter I did not know I needed.

I think about you.

Love.

And.

Our.

Love.

So many kinds.

Blue love.

Joyful love.

Peanut butter and chocolate chip cookie love.

Christmas carol love.

Hanging filigree ornament love.

Pink bunny love.

Walks on the beach at twilight love.

Butterflies in the garden love.

Flowers wrapped in gunny sacks and tied with twine love.

Candlelight love.

Untold love.

1,000 kisses love.

Tears on my pillow love.

Crows passing red berries in the snow, beak to beak, love.

Love letters love.

Poetry love.

Shameless love.

Not sorry love.

Not safe love.

Hands entwined love.

Squish love.

Passionate love.

Chemistry love.

Alchemical love.

Magic love.

Moonlight love.

Star shine love.

Dressing up in my prettiest dress for you love.

Pink glitter lip gloss love.

Baby girl love.

Dearest, sweetest, tenderest love.

Vulnerable love.

Smash love.

Precious love.

Spectacular love.

Cannot wait to see you love.

Miss you all the time love.

Dreamy love.

All the love I have for you, love.

Christmas Eve love.

Wishing you all the joy love.

All the blessings of love.

All the happiest happiness of love.

For you.

My love.

Wishing you it all.

Merry Christmas baby.

I love you.

 

 

To New York

July 22, 2014

Or not to New York?

I was just texting back and forth with a good friend who had an amazing night in the Big Apple and was regaling me of the experience and I just felt such a ping of, I really should be there, not jealousy, so much, but I wish I was there.

My friend is there for the next two months.

He’s got an Air BnB in Brooklyn.

I also have friends that live in New York.

Not super close friends, but friends that have always encouraged me to swing on by should I be in New York.

He said, come.

I joked, “New York, the perfect antidote for Burning Man.”

If I were to go I would have to time my trip to be between 9/3 and 9/21.

I don’t know exactly when I am getting back from Burning Man, but it’s going to be either the 3rd or the 4th of September.

I just cannot imagine getting on a plane after two to three weeks of being on playa to fly cross-country for the weekend and kick it in New York.

Sounds like a recipe for no sleep, and knowing my excitement level for being somewhere new, I probably wouldn’t sleep much anyway.

I would be in New York, the city that never sleeps.

I have never been.

Gasp.

Yeah, I know.

Which I find amusing since so many folks have made the assumption that I hail from the East Coast, but nope, I have never set foot in the state of New York, let alone the city.

I would have a place to crash and a tour guide.

I sort of have to do this.

I looked at tickets and balked a bit then thought, go write your blog, you’ll get clarity about it and you’ll know within minutes of setting your fingers to the keyboard.

I know.

I have to go.

When am I going to have this opportunity again?

Friend in New York, not working, not obligated to anything, other than enjoying the city, open invite to stay at his place, someone who knows the city, museums.

Oh snap.

MUSEUMS.

I could probably just choke on the museums.

Just do that all day long, go to museums then go to music at night.

Eat some food in between and walk everywhere.

I think September would be a lovely time to be there too, summer’s ending, kids back in school after Labor Day, fall starting to creep into the air.

I am talking myself into it more and more.

My window is small, I would still need to negotiate time off from work.

But what if I just took a Friday off, flew out after work on Thursday and flew back on Sunday?  I bet I could.

My thought at first was fly out on Friday and fly back Sunday, but I want an extra day if I can get it and the Friday would be easier for me to get out of work than the Monday.

Monday I have two boys.

Friday I have one boy.

I’ll need a vacation after Burning Man.

I will.

Burning Man is not a vacation for me, though it often looks like one in the photographs I post and the social media that I contribute to.

No, it is work.

Long, hot, dusty, emotionally draining work.

What better way to wind down than a new city with a friend who I love and adore and knows the town?

It’s stupid to not say yes to this.

In fact, he said, via text, just back track to the yes.

Say yes, then figure it out.

Don’t try to figure it out then decide.

And he’s right.

This is about taking an action, not about sitting and thinking about it.

Because, too, the longer I wait, the more expensive the ticket will be and the less likely I am to nab one.

I am going to check in with one or two people tomorrow and ask for some thoughts and if I get the thumbs up, which I don’t know why I wouldn’t, I will come home tomorrow night and book a ticket.

I think the best bet is the weekend of the 12th.

Fly out Thursday the 11th after work, which may mean arriving in New York at like 1 a.m., but whatever.  Then fly back the morning or early afternoon of the 14th, that Sunday.

My friend will be leaving the Air BnB the weekend of the 21st and it doesn’t seem like the right time to fly in for a trip as he’s preparing to get back on his motorcycle and continue the cross-country road trip, the radical sabbatical, I think is the term.

And the weekend before, though working for him, just seems crazy to get back from playa and then fly right out of here to New York.

I would be one dusty bunny.

That’s for sure.

Wow.

I cannot believe I am contemplating this.

But.

You only live once, so they say.

I have been taught to say yes.

“You can live with me in Paris,” he said to me on the corner of 18th and Linda, between Valencia and Guerrero.

Ok.

“You can stay with me in New York.”

Yes.

Ok.

Let’s do this.

Holy crow Batman.

I’m gonna go to New York.

My ankle better be all healed by then, or at least significantly better, I envision so much walking.

Jesus.

The Statue of Liberty.

The Empire State Building.

The Museum of Modern Art.

Mostly just that last one, I don’t care about going out to the real touristy stuff and I could give a fuck about Times Square, or even Broadway, although Hedwig and the Angry Inch might be fun to check out.

Central Park.

Concerts in the Park.

Yes.

St. Marks.

Yes.

The Strand Bookstore.

Gah.

What am I waiting for?

I got to go get a ticket for this.

The ferry-boat to Staten Island.

House Parties.

Music.

Oh sweet Jesus.

I really am going to do this.

I will keep you posted.

New York.

New York.

These vagabond shoes are longing to stray.

 

 

 


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