few and far
between
that is where i catch your
eye
wandering
across these words
ive not so much spoke
outright
but few
and far
and
in between

this is where we are now
falling
in and out
and back

it's late.
when it's to late

this is when
i will meet
you

why are you so far away

I am about to be pounding the pavement, scanning the internets, and faxing out resumes. It looks like I'm joining in the hunt for a new and improved limited edition job. It's going to be like trying to purchase an Audrey Kawasaki print. well, i hope not that hard.

We are closing down shop here after 23 years. ( i will no longer have a job soon).

Finding a job at what i already do and have skills for is next to impossible. I am intrigued by the possibilities of something entirely new: hmmmm entry level government job?, something or other in the medical field (brain surgeon? do you need schooling for that?) , flipping burgers (i am awesome on the grill), Whole Foods Market ( no jobs available and i can't grow a decent beard) , perhaps a large chain home improvement or bulk shopping store.

These are the things i wanted to grow up and be: Ice-cream man, pest control guy, pool cleaner, quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys, cop, fireman, tattoo artist, work at Disney World, work in a motel, Italian chef, daredevil, vending machine owner, batman, airport security, comic book writer, talk radio host, life guard, physical therapist, rock star, boat captain, lawyer, detective, spy, pro surfer, lottery winner, pro skater, X-ray tech, priest, code enforcement officer, UPS driver, monk postal carrier, physical therapist.

this is what the universe has planned for me, right? this whole losing the job thing. It's going to be a fun, exciting spiritual experience and adventure. (living on the street?)

I don't think this is what my wife had planned when she married me last October. (thanks for being in the medical field and still having a job sugarbaby!) It's clear this is something I won't be able to write my way out of. Being pretty isn't going to help either. All my hidden talents will still be hidden, still not able to make me a living. And that's okay, I'm happy just making you happy.

I won't be able to write my way out of this situation but I can write about it. "Everything that happens to me is the best possible thing that can happen to me" I began practicing this belief two years ago. Now I'll show you.

I'll post my progress from time to time. between the other stories, motel rooms, missing her, striped socks, things that still matter, but..........

Soft Summer Girls

the dreams again. tornadoes for a short time and then my inability to open a school locker. it could be after a three day holiday or spring break or maybe i just stopped going for a few days. to many lies, to many lyrics. afternoon thunderstorms, warm rain and sandcastles fill the spaces where there should have been names, numbers and memory. I turn the dial this way and that hoping it will catch on some magic. Sarah passes by and tells me to try 8-23-16. i do. nothing. "just a guess." she shrugs and moves on.

Ive drawn a blank. I peek through the vent holes. paper back books, a knife, and a note someone must have slipped inside. trashy romance novels in school?. I have been studying romance and the art of war. now more than ever i want to get inside. the bell rings, the hallway is empty. I have no choice but to get someone from school maintenance to open it. There is a single key that fits into every lock. I wish everything were that easy.

The sky is grape. a tin-can reflection of a cartoon moon stuck in the air for effect. dreams of tornadoes and kissing the girl. Not exactly her, but a representation. it's not exactly like that night, but close. the replacement she thought I'd never be able to find.

writing and bad magic

1.

girl does bad magic. not the kind you can see but feel.
my feet hurt after a long day, it's horrid. this heat, the job ... the way the cars keep coming and going. and people. people the most.

she'll write me, not often and i heard her voice a few months back. not the first time - not the last. you never know how things would have worked out. sometimes it's a shame that all you have is now.

all you have is now. I've erased a few words on the page and there are those little rubber shavings. blow.

I've used a rubber maybe 4 or 5 times in my entire life. that's dirty. but the way it is. It feels better. you can't disagree with that?. even if you want it all in you. I haven't had all that many lovers. more lies than lovers. more lies than babies. I'm right about that. the it feeling good part. she thinks i kind of faked that i can pull out in time. it's not a lie though, i can. you should know.

the sun is beating down on the office window beside me. i closed the blinds and i can still feel the heat. i touch the plastic shades. warm. i press my hand to my face. now it feels like when we were together in your room. do you remember? heart beats, acoustic, sad music. maybe it's flushed with shame. i should have told you. I loved you.

writing and drinking makes me happy. kissing your face. making fun of hipsters. making fun of politics, road signs, warning signs. writing and a brief affair with a semi- famous actress. or artist. or cam whore, or blog mistress, or bored wife, or pregnant and horny. i don't know, using the right side of my brain? I dream. i fall in love but don't fall in love with everyone you see. okay?

i hate any kind of milk. even soy. I have a fear of elevators and often dream of tornadoes. (though never having seen a real one) i like the lime and the places you can stick it. I like sticking things in. pushing red buttons. candy is nice but i can live without ever having to wear a tie again. what is good weather for a funeral?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2.

she called him at work one day and told him she'd be in town, if it was cool with him, she'd like to hook up. he was with someone now, she knew that. she was with someone too. So, he told her he'd get back with her. In the company restroom and within moments jerked off all over his hand and the toilet paper he'd been holding to keep his cum from dripping on the floor. (or shooting on the wall) He called her back and said sorry he was busy. 15 minutes later he was ready again. to much thinking. the thought of a hotel room and fucking like they'd never see each other again. He'd fuck her tenderly with anger. He sent a text hoping it wasn't to late, he wrote: Cancelled plans, just for you- baby- I'd love it to meet...
every guy is a slave to their dick, a slave to options- openings- opportunity - He easily writes this off as fate- a phone call. He thought about jerking off again, texting back: something came up, next time? I'll make it up to you. promise.
- but he let it ride. enough fucking promises. He would let it build up, the anger, sorrow, regret, all those drawn out god damned good byes. he knew just where he was going to put them.

florida to texas east and west

sometimes anything. any word. any picture. any song.
sometimes anything. chaos. love. lies. promises.
anything.
something. anywhere. anytime. you. me. stories told before bed.
and after.
ever after.

* barrettes in her hair. yellow.
* me in my glasses reading maps.
* writing her love notes.
* the smell of old books.
* a spoonful of peanut butter
* photo booths.
* playing with her hair at night - without asking
* spanish guitar
* lime ice bars
* folding warm laundry
* sleeping on fresh sheets.
she is listing things that make her
happy.

sometimes anything will do.
our bodies cuddled close.
my chest against her back.
A leg over hers.
the snooze button pushed not once
but twice. no, three.
more dreams. more time spent together.
this time. she stays.

sometimes it's so hard to find the words.
sometimes nothing.
and sometimes
anything.

tell me how I say the things that make you sway

at the grocery store. we place food items into a plastic push cart. she steers the buggy, I look at the floor. to many people, to many lights, to much advertising. the smell of baked goods, spiced meats, and loaves of french crusted bread. a lady asks if we'd like to try a free sample. My fingers brush against the brightly colored fruit as we walk by.

I'm an impulse shopper and kisser and hands on her ass, feel her up-er. she'll tell you that, just ask her.

there was my attempt on aisle 7 to explain how a certain wine compliments a certain
dish, that i would make it for us. I would teach her how to sniff, taste and swallow.
I could tell she thought this to be sweet, silly, slightly dirty.
heart breaking. she said.
you're simply heart breaking.

i was pointing at bottle neck clams through the seafood window glass.
when you pick out clams. I say. you want to make sure the shells are closed, never buy open clams.... and now shellfish, okay. listen baby, this is important. ANY shellfish: shrimp, crabs, scallops, you want to make sure the guy gives you them frozen from the freezer in back. they are better frozen and thawed at home.
and what about those, she says. pointing to a group of lobsters crawling at the bottom of salt water tank.
We don't buy those. I say. We consider the lobster.

I'm checking the fresh caught fish of the day and i see her face reflecting in the glass, smiling. i notice she's staring at me when she thinks im not looking back. I can't keep my own gaze from off her, or my hands, or my heart. I fall for those moments, even with almost certain lies hanging from her lips. I turn and kiss and taste them right there in front of everyone. a light applause from a few of the older ladies, who happen by. As if id made some grand proposal and she said yes. It was only that she had captured me. trapped now like the lobsters crawling up the sides of the tank. tap-tap-tap-tap