19. Questions unanswered

In the quest of knowing and not

knowing, the remembering is

what baffles me profusely.

For I shall never know

what it holds for me

and what it holds

against

my solemn

self.

Put up another sturdy steel wall

Let sweet apathy be the motto

Every move is casual improv

Absolve myself of all desire

Stone cold callous absolutism

Ether of posthumous heartache

n.a.

origami bones

Opening a dance of folded grace

crawling out from under the paper weight

these origami bones can’t stay

creased too long in one place

pressed precisely into position

but the scuffs and bruises of indecision

still mar complex arrangement of limbs

and so I collapse and start over again

n.a.

frozen in time

I put my hands in the snow

next to my favorite reflection

smiling into the ice as a snapshot was taken

if only we could numb joy

the way we can fingers

perhaps we’d find a way to let it linger

n.a.

II

I’m sure much has been said

for the damage one can do

or how lack of space can suffocate

your soul in a crowded room

quantity of company won’t limit

when loneliness ensues

but it seems it’s edge is more intensely

sharpened when there are two

n.a.

Sparkle and smile lines 
a giggle is a bubble broken a half second too soon 
warm glow with red overtones 
what is the cost of ebullient countenance? 

I found a butterfly with bruised wings 
covered with dirt but still beaming 
she once flew high but once she did 
she found that high wasn’t so high after all 
and even joy has 
edges 

n.a. 

True happiness is when you can’t think of anything else you want in life and you’re scared to death of losing something you already have

This isn’t easy but it’s something you need to hear. He’s not the only one for you, and he’s not even the best one for you. And it doesn’t matter that you share an apartment or that you have a child together because no inconvenience is worth staying unhappy. And no environment where you’re unhappy is going to be good for that child. I know it’s scary and it seems impossible but you’re going to meet someone else who will give you a life you’re never bored of and a future you can’t wait for and some of the best fathers aren’t biological and some of the greatest loves aren’t the first.

you wander through the waves

but your body lays buried

and your philosophy decays

each day you attempt to salvage our moments

where our lips met or cursed

where our hands gripped or stayed loose

and though the past is over and done with

you’ve created waves to crash through my brain

where these moments leak to my mind

giving your philosophy new life

and you remain through the salvaged kisses and moments

until i join you for what is left of our voyage

There’s a woman in the steamed glasses of my window and she’s staring at me. She carries a force within her mightier than the raging storm outside. I close my eyes; she’s too much. I just listen to the roaring thunders instead. Suddenly she screams! I pop my eyes back open. She’s furious. You can see it in her eyes. They’re burning with anger, with passion. She doesn’t like to be ignored. She’s begging me to look at her. I can’t; she’s too much. She starts pounding on my window. I turn my back at her and move farther back into the room. The pounding grows louder. I climb onto my bed. She’s screaming now. I hide under the covers. She’s crying outside. I close my eyes. She could break my window any second now. I brace for the impact; I wait. And wait. It doesn’t come. 

I peek outside my covers and…she’s gone. There are scratches on the window where she used to be on. ZZZZZZ PANG! Lightning strikes the empty window and it finally breaks into pieces of angry shards. It is defeaning; pieces falling to the floor and thunder howling in the night. But then, in the absence of a window, I see…a glimpse of her. On the skies. The wind fighting her hair, the moon brushing her face in silver glow. She’s running in swift circles, chasing lightning all on her own—because I was too scared to chase it with her.

I shiver, but not from the cold. She is magnificent. The world is not ready for her, I thought. But I know that’s not true. It’s just me. I am not ready to show her off to the world. 

i think a lot about that night
you grabbed my jacket without a word
slung my backpack over your shoulder
like it was yours
we sat in that small alcove where
couples gaze out the floor-length windows
then back into each other’s eyes
walking by on the street i always
thought it was romantic
two and a half hours already passed before
we landed on that mediocre second-
storey pizza place where we left
an entire box behind
and i didn’t realize until midnight passed
nothing ever feels missing when
you’re walking next to me
i skipped dinner the previous night
because i couldn’t bring myself to crawl
out the bed i’d been bleeding out on
you asked if i wanted to talk about it
you asked me how i know i’ll be alone
you told me that i don’t
i didn’t know how to tell you i’d imagined
myself living in an apartment with you
overrun with my plants and scattered eclectic
film props while you worked an actual job somewhere
i know i want you but i don’t want to need you
and i didn’t want to give you that burden
it wouldn’t be fair, i’ve done that before and
it never turns out well
so instead of dreaming i just prepare to live
by myself and that’s why i assumed
i’d have to be alone and honestly that’s
how i’ve been most of my life so far
and you’re not a magic wand that will
wave my deepest problems away
even though i used to wish for it

and we’ll share our ice cream
close the distance between our shoulders
like that’s just how it’s supposed to be
i search for a chance to brush by your
fingers instead but the right time never
seems to present itself so we’ll keep
dancing around each other wondering
what the other is thinking i suppose
maybe you know and maybe you don’t
you asked me if i was over the boy
i had loved so deeply before and i said
yes, it wasn’t that hard actually, it wasn’t
a representation of how much it meant but
how much i realized it would have never
fulfilled me and i think you’re different
i cross my fingers so history won’t repeat
itself but maybe i’m a creature of habit
who am i to ask you to live out my
dreams with me and leave a piece of
your soul embedded inside of me?
what i don’t realize is you’ve already
done that unwittingly and i’m not sure what
you’d make of it, maybe you know i don’t
respond well to outpours of affection so
you think twice before letting me know
i think that night was the one time you
almost thought you’d say it but maybe
you got scared or thought the better of it
you asked me if i felt the same that
tonight seemed to last forever and
in a moment of revelation under the near-
half moon you said you knew why
and you stared at me with that smile in
your eyes for the two longest minutes of
my life and you said
never mind, i don’t know.

terrible and cold and true

nights tell true time. when leaves turn a slow cascade into fire colours you might think autumn’s here— the air is sticky honey but surely leaves don’t lie.

it is a lie, of course. you will know this upon walking home scarf draped over your arm when somehow the light lingers until your shadow marks the door.

you will wait until when walking under halfgone canopies the sky is no longer blue— night, truth-teller, has decided to lie no more

while you clutch your warmth tighter you are left cold truth as well in the pit of you.

-written for the @writerscreed challenge ‘false dawn of autumn’; I had loads of fun getting into the swing of writing again.

@writerscreed prompt 278: premonition

———-

Douglass Street Diner

6:10 pm

The waitress approaches the retirement-age couple in booth number 12. Her name tag reads, “Eliza-Beth”. This week, the right side of her hair is dyed pink, the left side is dyed black. 

“Can we take your order?”

The older woman is wearing a pastel blue t-shirt that reads, “A Premonition is the First Step on the Road to Perdition”. She smiles and says, “Sure, I’d like the Salisbury steak with -”

Eliza-Beth interrupts and points to her midsection. “Aunas takes the orders.”

The demon face at her midriff begins to speak. “For the lady?”

The woman’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Oh! Oh my. I thought you were a tattoo. Well.” She composes herself. “I’ll have the Salisbury steak with a side of lima beans. And a cup of coffee.”

“Wonderful! And for the gentleman?”

The woman’s husband doesn’t bother to look up from his cellphone. “You have all day breakfast?”

“We do.”

“Oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar. Cup of coffee.”

“Very good. Eliza-Beth can take your menus.”

“We’ll be back with your food soon,” Eliza-Beth says.

After the waitress walks away, the woman pulls a sweatshirt out of her large purse. She puts it on, covering up her t-shirt.

“I told you not to wear that shirt,” her husband says. He doesn’t look up from his phone.

—

10:40 pm

“I’ve been at this stove four days a week, Monday to Thursday, for forty-five years now. Monday to Thursday, those are my workdays. Forty-five years making burgers and fries for the public.” 

Vic flips a line of burgers, then continues to talk.

“Ten pm to four am, every time. That’s my shift. Keeps me out of the sunlight. As you know, I don’t like the sunlight none too much.” He turns and grins at the customer, showing off his fangs. 

Roy, seated at the counter, says, “I have heard this story so many fucking times. Can I have my cheeseburger, please?”

Vic replies, “It’s not done yet! You need to learn patience, my friend.”

“And you need to make sure that none of your hair ends up in my fucking dinner.”

Vic adjusts his cap, which is only partially containing his mega-afro. “A bit of my hair would just be extra seasoning. Some of my gorgeousness might even rub off on your ugly ass!”

Roy answers, “What-the-fuck-ever. Can you change that TV over to the game?”

“No problem.” Vic grabs the remote from under the counter and changes TV stations. 

—

2:30 am

Two women who appear to be in their twenties sit down in booth number 19.

“Hey Lizzie.”

“Eliza-Beth.” She continues to wipe down the counter.

“Eliza-Beth,” Vic says. “New customers.”

“I see ‘em.”

“Well if you see ‘em why don’t you get to waitressing?”

“Because she’s cleaning the counter,” Aunas says. “Keeping it hygienic and safe for our customers.”

Eliza-Beth waves her arm across the slightly cleaner counter, then bows. Vic rolls his eyes. 

Aunas lowers his voice. “In any case, they’re drunk. I doubt that they have any pressing engagements.”

As if on cue, the woman wearing the black t-shirt slumps against the side of the booth, lacking the sobriety to stay fully upright. On the opposite side of the table, her friend wearing the green t-shirt begins a game of exchanging the packets of sugar in the sugar basket for the packets of artificial sweetener in the artificial sweetener basket, one by one until all packets have changed baskets. This takes her about twenty minutes. Once green t-shirt is finished, she turns and yells towards the diner staff.

“Can we get some menus, please! I’m hungry!!”

@writerscreed prompt: 277: some of my favorite people are dreams

———-

Friday

2000

Benjamin reads an article about subdural hematomas while listening to a song about dancing to the rhythm of the night.

2330

Benjamin dreams of a redheaded woman wearing a black uniform. Pinned to her chest is a nametag that reads “Mango”. She floats above the boat he is rowing. She whispers a manifesto that he cannot hear. Somehow, he still knows it is a manifesto about sin. He feels guilty. She disappears. 

–

Saturday

2000

Benjamin reads an article about knee dislocations while listening to a song about never giving someone up. 

2330

Benjamin dreams of playing cards. He has three opponents, all of whom are shadows, only differentiated by the appearance of their teeth and fangs. 

Benjamin looks at his cards. The Queen of Diamonds features Mango’s face, her hair worn in a ponytail. The Queen of Clubs is Mango with a Mohawk. The Queen of Spades is Mango with a pixie cut. The Queen of Hearts is bald Mango. 

The fifth card in his hand is the Jack of Clubs, featuring Benjamin’s face. He has bruising around his right eye. 

The dealer yells, “Four of a kind!” He pushes a pile of chips towards Benjamin. 

–

Sunday

2000

Benjamin eats a hamburger while watching a baseball game at a sports bar. Chicago leads Los Angeles 1-0. 

2330

Benjamin dreams of shaving. Bald Mango appears in the mirror in front of him. She is bleeding from a nick on the left side of her chin. He pulls out a towel to try and dab at her blood. She disappears. 

–

Monday

2000

Benjamin turns off the “Wake Up! Wake Up! Wake Up!” screams of his cell phone alarm. He starts getting ready for his night shift.

2330

Benjamin is at work. He asks a woman, “Are you taking any blood thinners?”

“No,” she replies.

–

Tuesday

2000

Benjamin turns off the “Wake Up! Wake Up! Wake Up!” screams of his cell phone alarm. He starts getting ready for his night shift.

2330

Benjamin is at work. He makes a telephone call but gets no answer. He leaves a message. 

“This is Dr. Benjamin Hunt at Three Circle Hospital. I’m trying to reach the family for Enid Ottenbacher. Please call me when you get this message. I’m taking care of her here.”

–

Wednesday

2000

Benjamin reads an article about esophageal varices while listening to a song about getting physical.

2330

Benjamin dreams of rowing a boat. Ponytail Margo floats above him. She is wearing a red uniform. She holds up a blank piece of paper. She mouths the words, “Where were you?”

He replies, “I was at work.”

She shakes her head left and right.

He repeats, his voice now apologetic, “I was working.”

She shakes her head again.

He looks down and says, “I have to do two night shifts a month. It’s in my contract.”

She disappears.

–

Thursday

2000

Benjamin eats a donut while watching a video about a cat who was raised by a dog. 

2330

Benjamin dreams of a prairie covered by snow. A red fox watches him from a distance.

–

Friday

2000

Benjamin reads an article about Harrington’s Plague while listening to a song about a bachelorette. 

2330

Benjamin dreams about drowning in a vat of cow entrails. 

–

Saturday

2000

Benjamin eats a cheese steak sandwich while watching a video about a cat who is best friends with a horse.

2330

Benjamin dreams of a white hallway that does not end. 

You are the night;
The intimacy of the quietude, obscure.
You are the interplay
Between subtlest shadow,
And light,
Most docile; a hint of fingers, playing;
Interlacing under covers.
You are the moon’s pale
Bosom; a softness
Wherein the loudness of day
Fades to mute, interchanged
For a dream’s
Tintinnabular prelude.
Emollient
Is your touch,
Scarcely more than ethereal,
Yet substantial enough to lift
And cradle, as such
Delivering sensations of levitation.
Your kiss is not the light of dawn
But an endless stargazing. All existence
Fades in your presence,
Stripped
To its dormant unimportance.
And love, already considered
Your second nature,
Exposes itself as your baseline;
The foundation
Of a realm beyond
The imagination, or in any case articulation
Of scholars, and poets.

—
24-4-2022, M.A. Tempels ©

Janfebrumarchuary

The cruelest month of all

Is Janfebrumarchuary

When the snow melts, when you fall

On the ice if you’re not weary

–

The month when airs too crisp

Too dry, your breath is but a wisp

Your eyes have tears, icicles

Frozen, just a vessel

–

For the snow to pile up

You’re a snowman in the brawl

In Janfebrumarchuary

It’s the cruelest month of all

–

When the snow melts

You’ll fall too

As you fade into the blue

Pillars, ice pelts

Melting tombs

And you’re slipping out of view