Sides

Mark.
Mark he hurts my heart.
Wherever he abides he holds the doors tight.

Safe.
Sound.
Everyone can see.
Everyone can see except for me.

For as I abide by matrimony and mine
As I welcome him in my most private side
I still lay by his out side all through every night
and I lay, by my self more alone than a lone

Dodger Dog Deities

Went to the Dodger's game with my sweetie last weekend. 


I’m not much of a sports fan but I do enjoy sporting events - mostly for the plethora of junk food available at such venues.  I know I'm not alone in my ball game dining enthusiasm because this is where I find my sporting camaraderie. And this is where I start every game.

Concessions.  

Now, I'm also not a huge fan of hot dogs, but a ball game without a hot dog is, well, just un-American.  So we started out our fun-tastic Friday night dinner date with the obvious - Dodger Dogs and an order of their famous garlic fries. And, since we were feeling proud to be Americans we added some sushi rolls (which were surprisingly fresh and delicious) and German beer to wash it all down.  A very nice start, indeed. 

Feeling comfortably full and satisfied with our appetizer, we settled happily into our seats (which incidentally were AWESOME!!!!  Row 14, Seats A-D, on the 1st base line! Yes, we had 2 extra seats...and just for the record, I had the intention of finding someone outside the stadium to give our extra tickets to...someone that looked as if they could use a spiritual lift...but, I also had to be able to deal with sitting next to them for an entire game.  Sadly, my noble plan had a serious flaw - most people that look like they could use some charity also look like I wouldn’t want to sit next to them for any length of time.  So, we took the selfish route and lounged our gluttonous asses leisurely across all 4 seats).  

Aaaaaanyways.

Once the sun went down it got quite chilly so I wanted something to warm me up.

"Hmmmm...maybe some hot cocoa...or soup..New England Clam Chowdah...doubt they'll have that.  Oh, I know!  A nice bowl of hot, spicy chili!!  They will definitely have that!  How could they not?? I mean, this is L.A.  Cali is the southwest and its pretty much run by Latinos. 

So I wandered up to concessions and strolled The Alley of Crap, searching the menus for chili.  

"Chili cheese fries...chili dogs...burritos, tacos, southwestern salads...nachos with nacho cheese but without chili...no chili bowls.  NO CHILI BOWLS????  WHAT???  How can they NOT have chili bowls??"  

I began stumbling around in a frantic haze of confusion and disbelief...revisiting each concessionaire, inspecting each menu several times before staggering forward to the next.  Finally, eyes burning from the strain of repeatedly dissecting each menu, I accepted the verdict.  

“Wow.  No chili bowls.”

I was overcome with grief, but my will to survive kicked in and I began considering my other options.  “Maybe some pizza.”   (Pizza is my ultimate favorite food.)  "California Pizza Oven.  Yuck.  Hate California style pizza.”  As far as I’m concerned, calling that bready, non-greasy thing is an insult to the Ivy League institution of pizza.  It didn’t matter what kind of pizza they had anyways.  I wanted a chili-bowl almost as much as I wanted a million bucks...and/or Andre Ethier.

Defeated, I slugged back to my seat and sat back down, now oblivious to the awesomeness of it.  I tried to watch the game but my mind kept wandering back to the absolute wrongness of my astounding discovery.

After some moping and mulling, an idea struck me.  An idea of such magnitude and brilliant force that it stunned the stadium crowd into a deafening silence of awe and admiration. 


I rose, stoically, from my seat and acknowledged The People (who respectfully averted their gazes toward the pitcher’s mound) before setting out a daunting quest - a quest to end the tyrannical suppression of chili bowls at Dodger Stadium. 


As I took that first step toward justice the silence broke into a mighty, stadium-rocking cheer.  The People were urging me forward.  I made my way toward concessions with moral purpose on my mind and chivalry in my heart.

Once in The Alley of Crap, I quickly located the Dodger Dog stand with the shortest line.  The line was still long but The People were counting on me so I had to be steadfast.  Eventually perseverence paid off and I neared the front of the line.  But now I noticed that some people were walking away without any crap. I don't know what they asked for, but they were DENIED.  My confidence wavered but thoughts of disappointing The People held me steadfast, determined and prepared to face The Oppressors. 

Finally, it was my turn.

I took a deep breath and stepped up to the counter.

"Chili cheese fries, please.  Hold the fries.  Please?...Pretty please?"  

The cashier looked at me blankly for several seconds before furrowing her brows, tilting her head and walking away from me.  She walked over to consult with another cashier.  They whispered secretively, occasionally peering in my direction.  I smiled the friendliest, least intimidating, sheepish-est smile I could muster.  They stared at me.  


I felt very uncomfortable.  


They whispered some more.  Then in one sudden and swift burst of motion they disappeared through a pair of swinging doors into the Dodger Dog Dungeon of Divinity where I imagined they were holding court with a bunch of faceless Dodger Dog Deities garbed in long, hooded robes of blue and white. 
   

I began shifting nervously, sweating profusely, clearing my throat for no apparent reason.  “Why was my nose so itchy all of a sudden?  Why did my back ache??  They must be casting evil curses on me...causing me this discomfort...maybe they're conjuring vengeful spirits to haunt me or just plain mocking me for my arrogant petulance.”

"Please?...Pretty please???...Stupid.  Stupid stupid stupid.  Just who do I think I am? They don't take special orders at concessions!!"  

I braced myself for the cold denial that had, undoubtedly, been ordained for me.

What seemed like an eternity later, the cashier (the consulted one, not the original one) pushed her way through the swinging doors.  She looked at me, then turned right back around and disappeared again into the Dungeon of Divinity.  

"They’re toying with me.  They're making me wait, forcing me to think about the inconvenience of my egotistical request.  Their torturing me slowly before stabbing me hard with their flat-out denial."

Once again, "The Consulted One" emerged from the Dodger Dog Dungeon, this time followed closely by “The Original One”.

They presented me with a cardboard receptacle lined with wax paper and filled with a generous portion of chili that very much resembled a pile of steaming, mushy poop. 

"Would you like some nacho cheese on top?"

I returned to my seat...to my sweetie...to The People, victorious.  I triumphantly presented the chili.  "Behold this, the symbol of you, The People, a people that would not be DENIED."  The crowd ripped into a massive celebratory wave.


Success is YUMMY!!  However small...and mushy.

P.S.  I'm pretty sure the Dodgers won.

  

P.P.S.  Fenway Franks RULE!!!

  

P.P.P.S  I did get a squirt of nacho cheese on the chili bowl.

Always, Always Green

Sometimes I get soooooo tired of California.  


True.  The weather is amazing.  But all this constant sunshine keeps everything dry and brown.  


New England is always lush and green.


Well, except in the autumn when it too is very brown.  


Other than that...it's always green.  


Well, except in the winter when it's buried under tons of snow.


Then it's white.  But that's pretty too.


Well, until the snow starts to melt and turns everything to slushy shades of gray.  


Other than That...it's always green.  


Well, except in the spring when torrential rains splatter dark brown mud and icy black muck all over everything.  


But that's only temporary and everything turns super green afterwards.  


Well, until the summer season burns everything crisp and turns it brown again.  


Aside from THAT...


New England...


ah, my sweet home turf...


is always, always green.

doesn't take much

it doesn't take much to make me happy
for example i have this ball
it's big and round
and bouncy and rollie
and fun to kick at the wall
i'm gonna keep it forev-


               pop 


i'm not happy...

Lucky for Me

Lucky for me he's so handsome.


Lucky for me he's so sweet.


Lucky for me he is glorious
with kuggles and romps in the sheets.


Lucky for me he is steady.
He's sensible, practical and smart.


Lucky for me he's a noble man
and compassion resides in his heart.

Most lucky for me he is blinded by love
and a glutton for punishment and pain.


But unlucky for him he's a stubborn fool
and so dumb 
dumb 
da-dumb 
dumb 
da-dumb 
da-dumb 
da-dumb

to sleep

i don't want to think

but i don't want to drink

i don't want to cry anymore

i just want to sleep

to sleep

to sleep

to sleep forevermore

Satisfaction

It isn't often that I feel so completely satisfied


with something that I have produced



but on this morning
I feel so liberated



from all the crap that had built up within me



as I unloaded 



one long stinky poop



Whew!

Drawing Circles

I drew a circle

it was a nice circle

but it wasn't perfectly round

it skewed slightly to the right

so i drew over it

tried to even it out

now it veered off to the left

over and over

I repeated this task

painstakingly tracing my line

correcting flaws

only to create new ones

I just couldn't get it

perfectly round

with even depth of line

and proper thickness

now

where once I had a pretty good circle

slightly skewed

but nice and neat

I have a big ugly mess

Jar with No Holes

I breath
to feel your breath
entangle with mine
gnarly limbs
barren of leaves
now bathed in sun
a delicate bud
tender bloom
exposed
again alive
swaying
playing
now fraying at the seams
consumed
engrossed
obsessed
possessed by a need to possess
Follie turns to fear
You capture me in a jar
screw the lid on tight
suffocation
your embrace
A jar with no holes

Disappointing Eyes

Last night I had nightmares all night long about my sister and my brother...the last 2 vestiges of faith in me. They were so angry at me. They are so angry with me. Because they are completely exhausted by me...exhausted and exasperated by me.

I dreamt of my brother's imposing figure towering over me as his razor sharp eyes stabbed me over and over while his biting tongue lashed me mercilessly telling me how disgusting I am and what a waste of a person I am. His eyes speak of utter complete disdain, disgust and disappointment toward me.

THen there was my sister whose disappointment in itself is enough to send me to my grave...a watery grave of tears. Her weapon is much more subtler than my brother's. Her weapon is to tell me how selffish and self centered I am and how I suck the life out of everyone and how she would do anything for me and that I take everything and anyone for granted...that she tries so hard to help me and understand me but she just can't understand why I act or react the ways I do. Her eyes are filled with confusion and torment about me...and disappointment.

Then of course there is Dan whose eyes are so filled with betrayal and hurt and responsibility. How can I ever look into those eyes again without feeling so horribly disappointed with myself?

I haven't seen my mother or father since everything unraveled...I haven't seen any of my friends...or those that used to claim to be my friends...and I am afraid to see what lurks in their eyes...probably some combination of sympathy and disappointment for my pathetic state of insanity.

I used to be someone that people saw beauty and perfection in...the creatively caring mother, the exuberant loving wife, the fabulous, fun-time girlfriend who also had an empathetic ear...

Now I am just a totally pathetic, hurtful disappointment.

The Tree in the Smoking Courtyard

I found this today in the notebook that I kept at the hospital.

The tree in the smoking courtyard is a very large tree with a very large and very thick trunk.

It stands - the lone tree - in the center of the yard.

The tree is stuck in hard, dry, dusty dirt where it clings desperatly to the barren foundation. It is clearly lacking substantive nutrition as it appears sickley and weak. It has barely any bark and stands nearly skinless. It is protected from the elements by only a scaley, pale, greenish-grey moss that covers it from trunk to limb like a psoriasis of the most terrible kind. Beneath all that crustiness it is a pale unhealthy shade of yellow.

The tree has many thick, loopey, U-shaped branches that rise up toward the sky. Most of them are broken...snapped off...midflight...ironicaly similar to the people that sit around it. Dozens of these U-shaped branches shoot out from the top of the tree's trunk. They conjure up images of corpses dangling calmly from knooses. It is a peaceful thought, albeit morbid, to think of being released from pain and anguish with a leap of faith and a quick snap. It is liberating to sit in this "prison" courtyard and imagine swaying with the breeze in this tantric dance with the breeze. It is a twisted lullaby mocking those in view with silent lyrical tauntings. It is a quiet game played with the smoke filled air.

The tree stands rigid in it's spot despite the gusting wind and pounding rain...despite the lack of sunlight and oppressive shade. This tree, seemingly at the end of the line keeps growing... struggling...to sprout new branches. It fights to stretch up past the shadows and into the clarity of the open sky above. It works toward the day when someone might view it's U-shaped loopey branches in a more optimistic way...perhaps as a fun place to climb or a nice place to a swing from seat.

The tree in the smoking courtyard continues to struggle silently toward the sunshine...immobilized by form but not defeated.

Don't Try...Please

Don't try to change me...please just accept me.
Don't try to understand me...please just be with me.
Don't try to guide me....please just stay beside me.
Don't try to own me...please just hold me.
Don't try to control me...please just let me be.
Don't try to make me happy...please just be happy.
Don't try to give me what I want...please just give me your love... unconditionally, whole-ly, freely.

Don't expect anything from me...cuz I'll only let you down.

Ignorance as Bliss

I am perched at the pinnacle of change. But there's a big big drop on every side and the valley is too wide to see what's at the top of the next steep climb.


I wish I was a bird so I could fly fly away. I would soar above the peaks and see exactly where all the pathways lead. Hindsight and foresight would be 20/20...or whatever number a birds-eye vision is. If I were a bird I could choose where I wanted to land knowing what was behind me and also what lay ahead.


I wish I was a barnacle stuck to the side of a seaside rock. I could predict the rhythm of every day with as much accuracy as the changing of the moon...I could be exactly as I am and if anyone stepped on me they woud just get cut by their own fault.


I wish I was a mirror so when people looked at me they would catch a glimpse of themselves with all the faults of their own humanity. And if they couldn't stand it and broke me to pieces then they would cut themselves on themselves.


I wish I was a whisper of a gentle breeze floating across the Caribbean landscape in an exotic resort. Then I could lull lovers closer together and whoosh the real world further away.


I wish I was ignorant to all my flaws and to all the people around me. Then I could just be peaceful with ignorance as bliss.

I had a dream about Rich last night. I found myself outside a quaint country church. It was white with some red brick and a lovelyt white steeple. It was on a hilltop with a green grassy lawn leading up to it and there was a tree set slightly to the side of the lawn, to the right if you are facing the church. I think it was like an oak tree orsomething but somehow it seemed more willowy. I think in the dream you were getting married to Irene. I saw her in the dream...or some representation of her, a blond woman, older with a thick Russian accent. I remember feeling an urgency to stop this wedding...and I entered the church despite the fact that someone...I don't know who...it actually felt like more than one person...was tryig to convince me not to go inside. The church was dark with dim lighting...candles? small lights? idk. So anyways...I sat down in a seat...but the seats were not pews like in a church they were more like those in an auditorium like at a large university. And the aisles were tight so I climbed over the back of the last row of the front section to sit in the second to the last row of that front section...it was probably like 10 rows from the front which was like a stage in an auditorium with a podium. I watched quietly, helplessly as you got married and then I discovered, after the ceremony, upon talking to your bride, that you and Irene had a child together, a small toddler boy and another one on the way...and I saw you watching me talking to her...and I could see the pain and explaination in your eyes of why you married her, even though you didn't really want to. Obligation and responsibilty. So this little boy...so cute, in a tiny tuxedo with dark brown hair neatly combed to the side, framing his cherublike face, was going to where the kids go during mass...downstairs to the basement area...and so I followed him. And there I saw my own little boys busily happily painting some sort of ceramic project. I wanted to paint to...because it's something I love to do...mix colors, feel the smotth creamy texture of the paint gliding across material...and the satisfaction of the end result. So I lined up with th kids...and there were all these trays to put paint in...and dozens of bottles of colorful paints - acrylic in squirt bottles...but the trays were all shaped like objects, like houses and stuff...except my tray was plain, it had 4 little compartments to put paint in...and I was gonna squirt some in a tray for myself but the teacher wanted to do it for me so I let her but she was chossing such aweful color combinations...and messily combining them so the colors got muddled. I didn't want to hurt her feelings so I took the tray but I just couldn't stand to work with those so I tossed the palette and snuck over to make myself a palletable pallette. I could see now that everyone else was finishing up and I had not even begun yet so I hurried to get my paints and kept squirting too much out of the bottle and couldn't find the colors I wanted. And the teacher was trying to get everyone and everything cleaned up and all the kids kept coming up to me to show me what they did and some of the things were terrible and some were ok but none were great because after all they were just little kids but nonetheless I oohed and awed and found something wonderful to tell all the kids...but still I didn't have a chance to get to my own thing. I don't know what happened after this...maybe I woke up or switched to another dream.
Then I had this other dream about horses...I was driving home...to my parents home in Tewksbury...and I saw a horse...a beautiful horse with properly trimmed main, reddish gold colored. Somehow I knew she was a mare. I drove home quickly and grabbed a halter and lead to go catch her before she got hurt in traffic. THe onyl halter and lead I could find were very heavy but I didn't have time to waste looking for a better set. SO I ran up the street lugging it along and spotted the mare across the busy street. She was scared and not thinking well. She saw me and was trying to come to me. BUt the was puttin gherself in danger in the process so I started to try to cross the busy street to get to her. Somehow she managed to get to my side of the street. But she was so freaked out she couldn't stay still long enough for me to slip the halter on...and she took off again, on flight, fleeing from some perceived danger...but she regained her head momentarily and came back to me and I managed this time to get the halter on and lead her back to the barn...but not calmly...she was very nervous and skittish but I remained calm and I knew she trusted me. When I got back to the barn I tucked her safely in a stall at the back of the barn. When I came out of the barn and looked around I saw all these mamed horses...they were all wearing their winter blankets, dingy, brown, dirty and tattered. They were tied to the outside of the fence of a pastuer. IT was growing dark and it was very windy and damp and cold....and the horses were all unhappy and pacing or resisting the tie. There was one horse in particular that had no back legs. All the horses had something terribly wrong with them. But this one I rememeber most vividly. He was trying to break free. And I was astonished that he could somehow stand/walk/move on just 2 front legs...very awkwardly but nonetheless functioning in some capacity. I felt so sad for this beautiful marelous creature and thought how cruel...why do they make him live like that? Why didn't they put the poor guy down?

Pinball

Lurking in the shadows
glowing mysteriously
blinking
beckoning
flashing
flirting
calling out my name



The pinball machine kaching


comforts me
shape has seen no change
rules remain the same
and I know how to play this game


kaching kaching
in go my quarters
out comes the ball


silver and small
hard and round
built for distance and speed


pull the trigger
let it pop
adrenaline
anticipation
greed


blink
flash
ping 
ding


the ball flies into the field
I flip the flippers and whack the ball
trying to control it's destiny
every time I whack that ball it bounces into something else
and bounces into something else
only to bounce into something else
or speed curiously around a metal curve
or down a glistening rail


where is it going
what is it doing
the chaos is driving me


flapping and flipping
and banging and bucking
the sinister sneaky thing


I've lost control
the ball got away
it's rolling
exhausted
frenzied
dismayed
down the main drag
toward the exit


hoping
praying
desperately praying
to not get hit again
to end he cruelty
and not be forced to play again

Eventually the ball gets swallowed whole into a gaping hole.



So, do you ever really win this game? 


Never. 


Noone ever wins this game and you are all fools for playing.

Mystery Dan

Last night I was lying on top of my sister's bed...staring up at the ceiling...feeling very small and lonely...I found myself missing Dan...very much. I found myself wishing I had his warm body to snuggle up against and his strong arms around me to let me know I wasn't alone and I was safe. I didn't think about his beer belly...or his loud snore. I missed his smell, warmth and comforting presence...and I missed his voice, masculine and boyish in the same breath. It suddenly occurred to me that I have this feelig of "missing Dan" all the time...and I have been trying desperatly to escape it because it hurts so much that he can be so close to me and yet so far away...and then somehow I remembered that before he was a cool, hardened perfect husband and father, he was a mystery that I wanted to uncover. He was this big, beefy, happy, friendly guy that was trying to hide his fragility...and it was his fragility and the mystery of that delicate soul that intrigued me.

I do love him...and I want to know him but I think after 20 years of trying to uncover him I have grown weary and decided that perhaps there is nothing to discover...but I think I am wrong. I think he is still a mystery to me...and to himself.

Rapunzel

WHO AM I?

In no particular order:

mother
daughter
sister
wife

lover
artist
musician
poet

scholar
puzzle solver

appreciator of beautiful things

lover of animals
rider of horses
keeper of two gorgeous dogs

culinary master
fabulous entertainer
writer of insight to pain

naive optimist
romantice pessimist
jogger to run from the strain

life of the party
daily napper
trying to hold off insane

very fast driver
very meak eater
doesn't eat breakfast or lunch

lightening fast fingers play dizzying runs and
pound chords with a powerful punch

long legs, athletic and lean
luscious lips, Colgate smile
but stomach could use a tuck

tight butt
cute little eyes
long thick and silky mane

Head turner
Eye catcher
Charming and quirkily keen

Coordinated mover
Awesome dancer
Clumsy and hates to clean

Always looks great
Always knows what to say
Everyone wants to be near her

Often feels sad
Helpless and bad
Just wants someone to get her

Ultimate romantic
Really a skeptic
of truly eternal love

Constantly seeking
hoping and keeping
a vigile for substance and depth

Believes in mind over matter
destiny and fate
Where there's a powerful will there's a way

But stuck in a tower
protected from harm
She doesn't know how to get down

Lived in denial
Now seeing the trial
that lies up the road just ahead

Terrified
Petrified
Immobilized by comfort and name

I am Rapunzel
I let down my hair
But I know that not even a prince
can climb up this mane
and take me from here
and a little bit closer to there

So Rapunzel Rapunzel
Take up that hair
Stop crying and making a fuss
your smart and resourceful
good and kind
you can get yourself down from here

Symphonic Soliloquey

The orchestra plays with synergy
instruments fused in sound
zig zagging through space
following some mysterious time

entangling each body
and confusing every mind
a complex rhapsody is played
of the mixed up crazy kind

But if pay you attention
and listen very close
you might feel the isolated ring
of hammer hitting string

block out all the other sounds
a b c d e
major
minor
a dissonant one liner
my lonely piano pleas

don't listen to the harmony
or skip to the refrain
just feel me in this melody
of cadence chord and key

I'm playing all these endless notes
in proper rythmic time
Masking my confusion
all is not sublime

ebony and ivory voice words I cannot sing
It's the shouting of profanities
a constant throbbing sting

regrettfulness and pain
run desperatly through the scales
and anger hurt resentment
pound out a viscious tale

I'm playing out a simple tune
of single piano notes
It's a sad sad secret melody
it's my symphonic soliloquey

Response to Debbie's Text

My sister sent me a text today.

She said, "I LOVE YOU! Be strong. Find happiness from within not from outside. Figure out what would provide MEANING to you personally (besides your kids). It will not come from attention and approval of others. But rather will require deep soul searching."

Yes. She is wise. But...isn't that the big question everyone is trying to answer? What will make me happy? A big career? Big house house? A big car?...to be perfectly honest, I think what would make me happy is to find that special someone who fulfills me. I think she was trying to tell me to not need someone else to make me happy...but I think the truth of the matter is everyone needs someone to complete them because noone can be everything in themselves.

I seem to have everything. I have a sincere, loyal husband, 3 amazing children and 2 beautiful dogs. I have a nice house in a nice town in a nice neighborhood. I have a nice car and a cool job that I don't need and I can quit any time. I have tons of hobbies and interests with which I pursue with vigor, I have a house full of beautiful things and a closet full of stylishness, I have tons of amazing friends, several with whom I can really confide...I have siblings with whom I am practically connected at the hips and parents who live nearby...what I don't have is a special person in my life that interests, stimulates, challenges and motivates me. I don't have someone who makes me feel alive and for whom I do the same. I don't have someone who makes me feel complete. I feel hollow. I feel lonely and bored...almost all the time. I feel so empty.

I love my huband. He is a wonderful man...But is he the guy for me??

I don't know.







I thought love didnt matter. I thought there is no such thing as a person with whom one can connect with for the rest of their lives. I basically thought marriage was a living arrangement. I still dont know if that special lifelong connection with someone exists. But, now, what I have discovered that it is neccessary and important to be with someone that gives their lives emotional, intellectual and physical satisfaction...someone with whom there is a profound connection on many levels and with whom there is room for change and growth...as life is maleable and so is love.





It seems that without love, life, no matter how perfect it may appear on paper, is tasteless. I feel a lack of motivation, strength, patience...





I suppose in the end, noone can really tell how things will turn out...but I think if you start with the finest ingrediants the end result is more likely to be paletable...and something you'll want to ingest over and over and over again.

Fog

Like water,
she is obvious in every way
and the sustenance of every life.
She nourishes, heals and rejuvenates
(but she can also destroy)
She goes with the flow, moving effectively
to find a new path as obstacles arise.
She is difficult to control and always in a rush
to get where she doesn't know she's going.

He, on the other hand,
is invisible to the eye
yet obvious to the senses
as nothing can be without he.
There is nothing to hold
but you need his touch.
He is real and always present.
He is the simplest necessity for life.
He is like the air.

Every once in a while,
Water mixes with Air.
In these moments
Air becomes visible -
a mysterious fog moving about
define by the moisture
who snuck into his house...

There is comfort in this coolness,
as for the briefest of moments we hovor in this tranquil state - 
this peaceful, gloomy state - 
the density of our entanglement

Fog

But the fog is transitory.
It's a temporary veil
behind which reality is hazy
and the sun waits insistently on the other side,  
where the the horizon disappears 
and the present feels innocuously sticky
yet unbearably offensive...