moments

we all have moments of weakness.  i do my best not to share them all with the world on facebook, and my blog.  sometimes, though, i get caught up.  the constant updating of status updates and tweets compounded by a desire to reach out to others for comfort makes it so hard to resist pouring our hearts out onto the computer screen for everyone to see.  in another time, we would have reached out to the people around us, or called someone for confidential guidence.  the ease of use and available audience of hundreds draws us out though, doesn't it? 

i'd prefer a real cup of tea with a loved one, a good old fashion cry.  instead, i get dinasour jokes.  and though the joke is witty and cute, and still makes me crack a smile through a cloud of self-doubt, a depressed state, its delight is fleeting.

there. will. be. tacos.

a poem for beth

you said there would be tacos
and i believed you, but you're a liar.

a big, fat liar!

i thought we'd indulge
in the crunching of shells,

oh, but no! 

and what do i come to find
in the place where my tacos should be?

go on, have a guess...

not tacos, no, but a big greasy burger
and a plate full of sweet potato fries!?

aghast, am i!

you didn't even have the decency
to dress up your cat, in a taco suit.

disgraceful, indeed!

prompt, this

a poem for drook

i would send you roses
if i knew your address

twice more I wept

for Joshua

i cried for you
your shipwrecked fleet
and the sand
that burns the bottoms
of your naked feet

and again for you
your torn main mast
the beating heart
of a glory gone
and past

the keys fell out on a monday afternoon

for tortilla

the keys fell out
on a monday afternoon

from a pocket of a small
japanese girl's skirt pocket.

now i know what you're thinking,
first of all, a skirt with pockets?

they do make those, i wouldn't lie
about something so practical.

and second of all, isn't
"small japanese" a little redundant?

well, yes, it is slightly,
but these are just details.

you need to start paying attention
to the real meat of the story: these keys.

they keys fell out of her pocket
on a clear-skied monday afternoon

and were later seen on tuesday
by a huddled over old man

the old man could have picked them up
or reported the sighting to the police

but he just stared at them
as he hobbled by with his cane.

what became of the keys after that
we haven't got the foggiest idea.