24 August 2009

Life In My Kitchen

We burned down the kitchen in our hurry to create
Eyes distracted by thoughts
Add another dash of spice
Maybe that was too much.
We never watched the other kids
Everyone was watching us and it was only right
He was too tall but it was romantic

Washed the car as it began to rain
Forged a path through the trees
Flashlights are heaven.

I always watched you

It was never time to be sorry
Your shoes will never fit on my feet
And life won't wait for us
Get in the car so we can have a talk
I hope somebody brought the pineapple
Because I have on my red lipstick

The drugstore lights made you think I loved you
We burned down the kitchen and Mom didn't get mad

may 2007

11 August 2009

and she's off!

The day will come when you discover, to your horror, that your brain actually works. 
It will be the same day you find out that your dad isn't superman and the day your trash can overflows because Mom isn't there to empty it for you. 
You will be on a roll from there:
Being selfish is sometimes the only way. 
McDonald's coffee sucks.
People actually made vacuums after 1983.
Not everyone knows who Gregory Peck is.
Innocence is under-rated
and over-used. 

04 August 2009

i love this girl

Park Birthday

At work the other day I was serving on the patio and while trying to light a birthday candle for someone, in spite of the wind, I remembered so many childhood birthdays where the lighting of the candles was such an ordeal with the ever-present ocean breeze. So I jotted this down. Brought back some good memories.

Trying to light the candles at your eighth park birthday party.
It's windy on the bluff and all the kids are gathered into a circular mass of hair housing sand, and fingers, somehow sticky, thrust into grinning mouths.
The prospect of cake.
Mom's tanned arms over the frosted masterpiece, the smell of her shampoo and the view of her freckles is enough of a birthday present.
Shielding the fire from the ocean breeze, she tells you to make a wish.
Closing your eyes, it's perfect
And you know that it doesn't matter what you wish,
because you have everything you need.
And the sun sets and the park lights illuminate big yellow circles on the sand and the blacktop.
Jenny fell asleep under the slide, purple frosting clinging to the corners of her lips.
Plastic table cloths and crumpled paper napkins fill the trash cans--the only remnants of the candles and cake and 7-year-old you, now growing up so fast.
And you close your eyes and you're pulling into the driveway.
You pretend to be asleep so Dad will carry you inside.
He knows your tricks, but he carries you anyway.
And his heartbeat is your lullabye.
And he kisses you goodnight.