The Pink Ticket

A playground of many muses.

The Pink Ticket - A playground of many muses.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 281

There was a notable absence of nocturnal
subconscious musings meandering
in our time-space continuum last night…
and I missed the rendezvous hopped up
on allergy medication and exhaustion.
I imagine you found your way into another’s
fantasy–it isn’t hard to do with
so many rooms and so little sleep;
opportunities at glimpses are rare
and the seduction of words incomplete.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 280

It happened again–we were in a dream, together.
But not; we wrote letters, or less nostalgically,
electronic communicae.   But all eyes were watching
as you said you were naked right now in the kitchen,
just getting a glass of water. A muse… my muse,
amused. Stretching closer to be known more
than just in the passing. Shall I make your acquaintance
again, at just past the twenty-third hour?

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 277

Traffic is jammed on all the usual routes
detours are posted but no one takes heed
from the heat and grime of the diesel exhaust
I hear the deejay, so enthusiastic that I wonder
did they unearth some mysterious wonder?
Something rescued, almost musty, from a basement
grave? A Tom Petty session to negate Full Moon Fever?
The excitement fades into the song spinning
and disappointment folds over in the customary
fashion as the first few notes hit the air.
Yes, we are free falling, and I mumble along…
just one more mile.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 276

There are clouds tonight
over Detroit
echoes of old Motown
contained therein–
time capsule of other days;
marches and music
a difference kind
of desperation built
on struggle and steel…
and salt mines.
She’s an artist on the verge
of a comeback, or another;
not always shiny
but always new,
creating something
maybe just out of her time.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 275

Please,
please let it rain
rain, rain
hard against the pavement
splashing bright steel
dusty on the grass
twisting & tangling
my hair
as I gasp
shock from the cold
tingling & titillating
against skin exposed.
Big gray clouds
rolling & abundant
with promise
unleash
your mass,
on the oily wings
of fowl
slick & thirsty.
Rustle the turning
leaves
crashing them
with thunderous claps.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 273

A glance toward the dashboard clock,
I whisper thoughts aloud
have it carried to you on wings
of birds who do my bidding now;
come my time another’s words
will fall upon my arms
but today I’m reckless for want–
maybe not just you, maybe
just for the idea… but pigeons
can’t tell the difference, and raptors
they just lie in wait with a scornful eye.

Project 365: A Year in Words, Day 272

My reflection looked skinny today. Passable.
Not like yesterday when the fitting room attendant
fussed and said I needed a smaller size as she
tugged on my waist. Funhouse mirrors in Athleta.
She came back with more pants…and a sweater
not asked for.  It’s a size smaller she said, and I swear
I heard her think: Please don’t freak out.
I put them on wondering if they work on commission.
There were two now waiting for me to emerge,
did I have something growing out my forehead,
hey you have to see this chick who doesn’t know
her own size…or that she’s really 5 foot 4.
They fawn; how the sweater is the perfect color,
and my eyes so gorgeous. Yes, they get commission.
Reminds me of the sad jeans I once bought at a Gap
when dude complimented my ass. They never did fit
right. Just let me buy the pants, please. I don’t need
petite, really, I’m almost 5-6 on a good day.