Caretaking my day job
and tending to my valued
friendships, my words lay
dormant inside of me for
days on end
my fingers lazily
flicking the turn signal
with the underside of my
pinkie finger
my feet are on the pedal
and is it sunny and busy
outside–I am outside for
once

Later in bed I am trying
to wind down
I swat away thoughts
with my fingers and the
turn of my head like
the thoughts are flies
and it is summertime

I hear the click click
of my cat’s tongue
across the room
and the up and down
of conversation out
on the back porch
it is Thursday night
and my boyfriend is
hollerin’ out there

I left the music on (Tom Waits)
in the kitchen
so I wouldn’t be tempted
to stretch my ears and listen
to the stories grown men tell
as I have done in the past,
waiting for the drop of a
questionable manstory
–a story about a woman
or women and nakedness,
something controversial to
make me sweat and panic
and feel sorry for myself

But never have I overheard
such a story
and it’s not that I try to listen
it’s just the combination of my
natural inquisitiveness and
the fact that they’re fukin
loudmouths that I ever
end up eavesdropping

The sunshine has kept my
heart hurt at bay but I
cannot help but see
heart hurt coming down
the lane
as always things
are changing in “love”
But I’m not sabotaging,
No I’m not sabotaging

Though I do rifle through our
existence for weakspots
and I poke at them like
the bruises of a brother
I shudder fearfully acknowledging
the power he was over me
my future wrapped up in him
like a thin-linked silver thoroughly
knotted necklace

I don’t want to be pushed
to my limit anymore
So why do I take myself there
I want my home to be
a meadow of peace
So why do I search for
the imperfections?
Strain my ears to
hear them
Then spell them out
for everyone to
see when the only
one making a mess
here is me

I walk the plank
everyday in this love
and you and everyone
we know would say
I’m making too much of this
and I am
in just about every way
Like any good woman
eager for a baby,
I scare us both

I vow to dry out my
moistened wounds
in the springtime sun
and think
fresh and
trust and
first things first
First…Things…First
Me,
in bed,
alone.
As it was in
the beginning
and then thereafter
and as it will be again
in the end

I cannot, should not
control him I think,
as he shouts, emphasizing
a word in conversation
I cannot track his words
I cannot control him
I am enough as I am–
Ignorant
and trusting
A free woman as
he is a free man
and we are unmarried
and probably happier
than most