To Borrow

A "painting" of our new abode, using the Waterlogue app.  Isn't it pretty?

To Borrow

Houses are rentable, yes,

and cars are too, I hear,

although I’ve never rented one.

My own car is so run-down 

it's just sad.  What’s sadder

is I bought it that way,

with a seatbelt that goes across

my lap and a separate one

for my upper body.  I joke

I’m buckling up to blast off

into space where the house

I’m renting looks like the ones

you play Monopoly with,

only mine’s blue not red.

It’s also run-down, the house,

but in a beautiful kind of way—

the way a mother looks

in line at the supermarket

with a cartful of diapers

and Hamburger Helper,

one hand lovingly laced

around the fudgy fingers

of a messy child,

clutching clipped coupons

in the other hand as if one

might be Wonka’s golden

ticket promising to whisk

her away in The Great

Glass Elevator up to a place

where cars never break,

roofs never leak

and run-down isn’t even
a possibility.

Not-Quite-Paisley

I realize I never fully updated everyone in regards to the job situation. I was eventually offered the job at American Eagle, but unfortunately the exact job title and responsibilities changed from when I first interviewed to when I was offered it weeks later. Meanwhile, Zales was able to give me full-time hours again, so it turned out that sticking with Zales would be more lucrative. So I stayed.

In other news, our house is looking awesome as we get more settled. We've been here almost a month now and we absolutely love it. Brian and I are also in finals week for this semester at UVU, so we're only a few tests away from freedom! Oh, and I had two prose poems published in UVU's Touchstones, one of which won Honorable Mention. Pretty cool, huh? It's quasi-autobiographical, documenting a less-than-awesome chapter in our relationship... but it sure made for a great piece of writing.

Siân Griffiths, the judge who critiqued my piece, said, "I was so taken by the way this poem turned. If ever I made the mistake of thinking I might know where the poem was headed, I soon saw my error. Yet each surprise felt utterly earned. In other words, the poem didn't surprise for the sake of surprise, but rather it surprised because life is surprising..."

She's right.  My life surprises me all the time.

Not-Quite-Paisley

You weren’t with me the day I picked the green-blue, not-quite-paisley curtains which frame the not-so-great view of a dentist’s office. But he was. He whispered his advice on accent colors and pulled me away behind discounted duvets and we both know that I let him, his hands ticking over me in slow, circular motions. Framed, near the window, is a photo of a younger me pulling you back into an embrace, kissing your cheek. Other framed photos, mostly from New York City, where we were wed, frame the mirror—black-and-white images of trees, buildings and an abandoned bicycle.  “I’ll return the curtains,” I suggest, replacing the batteries in our clock.  “No need,” you say, with injured eyes, pulling me back to bed, back to you, all interlocking arms and legs, disturbing the duvet.  I cry as you kiss my neck and out the window I only see mountains and blue, limitless sky.  We both agree the view is better from the bed.

Poem for Jessie

April has brought a lot of really fun and awesome things into my life, but it has also brought some terrible ones. Well, one terrible one in particular, and that is the death of a good friend of ours, Jessie. We met Jessie about a year ago when our friend Emily started dating her. The two of them seemed perfect for each other, which I know is cliché to say, but it was the absolute truth in their case. They were both so happy, so in love, and when they asked us to be in their wedding this coming May, we were overjoyed. But then real life came in to remind us all that things aren't always so perfect. Things are often difficult. Things are often sad.

Jessie passed away to Gastric Cancer on April 3, 2014. I remember her laughter and her spontaneity the most. And boy, could that girl dance. Emily would text me almost every other weekend: "What are you boys doing? Let's go clubbing!" And we'd go out and Jessie was always the life of the party. I remember whenever "We Can't Stop" by Miley Cyrus came on she would get especially excited. People always told Jessie that she reminded them of Miley. A far more beautiful Miley in my opinion. The song still makes me think of her every time I hear it.

This one's for you, Jessie.

Stolen

The club lights

flutter their aroused,

anxious butterflies;

their sweaty, shining

palms leave stolen

kisses of every hue

on your dancing body,

blushing timidly

as they do, but only

for a moment.

Only on their turn.

For who could hope

to keep you?

You, an angelic

trickster, taking

silky drags from your

e-cig, running long,

slender fingers through

stylish, cropped hair,

blowing puffs

of hefty exuberance

into the air with every

laugh.

The lights have found

new you to kiss… your musical

eyes, your glittery teeth.

You smile and sing along,

moving your body to the beat.

We can’t stop

and we won’t stop.

Constantly in motion,

moving and grooving

—a solar system

in tight, ripped jeans

and boots.  Feathers

dangle from your earlobes.

You ignite the night

with the lighter that

is you.  Hot and bright.

The club’s lesser lights

enjoy the chase, reaching

for you always but only

catching smoke.