Poetry was my thoughts at night,
My sleepless eyes searching behind star-burst darkness,
Insecure, no matter how tightly bound in solitary comfort
My poetry cried out to the unknown.
Poetry was my thoughts in flight,
My jumbled words failing to express,
Insecure in my voice, lacking the foundation of my pen,
My poetry cried out the painfully familiar.
Poetry is my silence,
Your shapely breast pointed under my kiss,
Held in the strength of my embrace,
My poetry read in my eyes when you look into them.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Blink: 9
Rick spent another few hours trying again. At the same moment it happened again. He was back in the kitchen holding the Coke. Almost subconsciously he returned to the living room and began again. The same thoughts going through his head again. His thoughts overlapping, like he was talking to himself. This time it was two voices, telling him the motions and thoughts he should have. If he did it again there would be three voices. He rolled the can in his hands, occasionally sipping form it listening to himself. The can was soon empty, this time he hardly had to think of it at all this time.
He was in the kitchen, holding a full can. He started for the living room but stopped in the doorway. His mind was pushing him to go into the room and drink the Coke and think about time travel. He could feel his previous thoughts pushing on his current ones. Against his desires he put the can back in the fridge and went up to his bed. He was tired, and was pretty sure he had not slept in what felt like the last twenty-seven hours.
He couldn't sleep with the noises in his head, and he hit a even thirty hours before his mind finally quieted. It took even more out of him to not think about getting a soda at three despite his brain screaming to go back. He was concerned, he was beyond concerned, his new found ability had drawn a fine line. He could go back and relive or change a moment, but he realized almost too late that there was a limit, or a level of discipline to it that he just didn't have the ability to control. He had nearly blinked himself out of reality, destine to relive the same mundane three house for the rest of his existence. He wondered if it kept up, would he pass out from exhaustion? Would losing consciousness stop a cycle that was ingraining into his mind. He wouldn't do it again. Not unless it was absolutely necessary, or of extreme benefit to him. He wouldn't blink back more than once... He wouldn't go back more times than he could handle. Rick sat up. He had to get a handle on himself. Subject to loose interpretation he nearly died just a few hours ago, and seemed willing to put the metaphorical loaded gun to his head again already. He needed to come up with some rules. More importantly he needed an objective opinion on the situation. As he finally fell asleep he thought about his Dad.
He was in the kitchen, holding a full can. He started for the living room but stopped in the doorway. His mind was pushing him to go into the room and drink the Coke and think about time travel. He could feel his previous thoughts pushing on his current ones. Against his desires he put the can back in the fridge and went up to his bed. He was tired, and was pretty sure he had not slept in what felt like the last twenty-seven hours.
He couldn't sleep with the noises in his head, and he hit a even thirty hours before his mind finally quieted. It took even more out of him to not think about getting a soda at three despite his brain screaming to go back. He was concerned, he was beyond concerned, his new found ability had drawn a fine line. He could go back and relive or change a moment, but he realized almost too late that there was a limit, or a level of discipline to it that he just didn't have the ability to control. He had nearly blinked himself out of reality, destine to relive the same mundane three house for the rest of his existence. He wondered if it kept up, would he pass out from exhaustion? Would losing consciousness stop a cycle that was ingraining into his mind. He wouldn't do it again. Not unless it was absolutely necessary, or of extreme benefit to him. He wouldn't blink back more than once... He wouldn't go back more times than he could handle. Rick sat up. He had to get a handle on himself. Subject to loose interpretation he nearly died just a few hours ago, and seemed willing to put the metaphorical loaded gun to his head again already. He needed to come up with some rules. More importantly he needed an objective opinion on the situation. As he finally fell asleep he thought about his Dad.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Blink: 8
Rick was home at a little after 3 in the morning. He woke mom up. She had fallen asleep on the couch waiting, he apologized and sent her to bed. He went to the kitchen and took a Coke from the fridge and went back to the front room. He sat in his fathers char, a chair rarely sat in. In front of him, more important to him at the moment was the oversized clock that hung over the fireplace.
Rick knew if this was real he needed to get a handle on it. Although so far it had proven to work in his benefit, the chance that it could happen while driving was a risk he was not willing to take. It was either going to take a lot of long hard nights, or one long hard night then that same night full of restful sleep.
He took a sip off of his Coke and concentrated on the clock. It slowly second by second clicked by. Each time it had happened it was reactionary, like an emotional response. First the goodbye, second was the hall, and third was to undo it all. None of it could be recreated in his living room. There was no motivation to tap into, even recalling the events was unlikely to help. He took another pull off of the Coke and leaned back into the chair. The clock continued to click away, more and more time lost if he was just dreaming it all up.
It could all be a psychotic break. The pressures of school. The shoes of his father to fill. The mysterious Millionaire's Millionaire, gone too often to make an impression, but there all the same. Rick might have just cracked. Snapped and was imagining it all up. He took one last long pull off the Coke, dripping the last of it down his throat. The clock ticking away. It was getting close to Four.
Rick mind made another pass at the time traveling being a reality. It was too vivid to just be made up. No matter how brilliant he was there was no way this was all coming out of his mind. Who hallucinates three overlapping moments. It wasn't possible. That combined with the migraines and sweats, the momentary double vision. He tipped the can on the pivot of his lower lip, It was empty.
Rick got up and walked to the kitchen tapping the can against the keys in his pocket to the ticking of the clock. He rolled the days events over and over in his mind. He tried to think of the exact moments that triggered his trips. He pulled the fridge door open and reached into the Coke box., it was empty. Empty. If ever there was a time to figure this trick out, it was now. Rick looked at the empty can in his hand, and then the empty box in the fridge. Then again at the can in his hand. He cleared his head, one word filled his entire mind. From ear to ear the word “Full” permeated.
He looked at the empty can.
He looked at the full can.
He looked at the clock. It was a quarter after three.
Rick knew if this was real he needed to get a handle on it. Although so far it had proven to work in his benefit, the chance that it could happen while driving was a risk he was not willing to take. It was either going to take a lot of long hard nights, or one long hard night then that same night full of restful sleep.
He took a sip off of his Coke and concentrated on the clock. It slowly second by second clicked by. Each time it had happened it was reactionary, like an emotional response. First the goodbye, second was the hall, and third was to undo it all. None of it could be recreated in his living room. There was no motivation to tap into, even recalling the events was unlikely to help. He took another pull off of the Coke and leaned back into the chair. The clock continued to click away, more and more time lost if he was just dreaming it all up.
It could all be a psychotic break. The pressures of school. The shoes of his father to fill. The mysterious Millionaire's Millionaire, gone too often to make an impression, but there all the same. Rick might have just cracked. Snapped and was imagining it all up. He took one last long pull off the Coke, dripping the last of it down his throat. The clock ticking away. It was getting close to Four.
Rick mind made another pass at the time traveling being a reality. It was too vivid to just be made up. No matter how brilliant he was there was no way this was all coming out of his mind. Who hallucinates three overlapping moments. It wasn't possible. That combined with the migraines and sweats, the momentary double vision. He tipped the can on the pivot of his lower lip, It was empty.
Rick got up and walked to the kitchen tapping the can against the keys in his pocket to the ticking of the clock. He rolled the days events over and over in his mind. He tried to think of the exact moments that triggered his trips. He pulled the fridge door open and reached into the Coke box., it was empty. Empty. If ever there was a time to figure this trick out, it was now. Rick looked at the empty can in his hand, and then the empty box in the fridge. Then again at the can in his hand. He cleared his head, one word filled his entire mind. From ear to ear the word “Full” permeated.
He looked at the empty can.
He looked at the full can.
He looked at the clock. It was a quarter after three.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Blink: 7
Rick brought out two cups of decaf and met Claire's Dad on the back porch of the house. He handed him one of the cups and stepped out onto the lawn where he sat down in one of the fading lawn chairs and faced him.
“All you had was the powder stuff.”
He took a sip and winced at Ricky.
“Too hot?”
“Yeah that, and it tastes like shit. That powder stuff is from the 60's. Spaceman coffee.” He tossed the coffee onto this lawn. “Stuff will probably kill my grass.”
Ricky drank just enough to make it look like he wasn't just miming the man he admired possibly more than his own father.
“Ricky, Rick.... Ricky, we have to talk about a few things.”
Clair came down the steps with three beers and passed them out. Rick paused for a moment and gave Clair's Dad a look. “Claire, the kid had a seizure or something today. Underage drinking is one offense I am willing to commit, but negligent death or whatever it would be called is something else.”
Rick put the beer down in the grass and winked a little at Clair, “I am sure my spider senses would keep me from danger.”
“Whats that?” they both said at the same time.
“Nevermind, bad joke... inside joke maybe... maybe not.”
“Oh ho, I get it.” Claire took a pull from her lite and continued. “ Daddy, Ricky can travel back in time.”
Rick and Claire's father both rolled their eyes for different reasons. Then simultaneously spoke.
Dad, “How many did you have before you came out with these?”
Rick, “Claire, I thought we agreed to not talk about it.”
“Wait. What?” He took Claire's beer and poured it onto his lawn muttering it was going to die. “What are you dreaming about?”
Claire moved over to Rick and looked down at him, bouncing her hip against his shoulder. The chair was going to collapse. Rick kept thinking about how many time he would redo this evening if he knew what he was doing.
“Yup, like Dr. Who or HG Wells.”
“Wells didn't travel through time, he just wrote about it.” Rick smirked.
“Where did he get the idea?” Clair retorted.
“ Malcolm McDowell played HG Wells who traveled through time in a movie.” Claire's Dad added in.
“Not like Dr. Who though, no time machine, and he says he can only go back. Then has to go forward in real time like Jack Bauer but lamer.” Clair continued.
“I'm still sitting right here, And it wasn't lame when you wanted me to go... come back from tomorrow with lotto numbers.”
“ And you didn't get me the numbers, so I am not sure if I believe you yet.” She moved to sit in his lap.
“Wait don't! The chair will break.”
“Why, did it already happen?”
“No, your chairs suck.”
“Kids, I am going to bed. Rick we can talk later. Clair... nevermind. Rick you must have hit your head, you should stay up for a while. Claire, don't help him. Rick..”
“Dad! Go to bed.”
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Blink: 6
They sat for a long time, most of it they spend silently. As the sun started to go down they broke from their self induced trance and Rick drove Claire home.
Claire lived in a small ranch house with her dad. Her Mom had skipped out on them a little over two years ago. She had never said why, she just packed a bag one afternoon while Claire and her father had been at a soccer game and left. Claire received a birthday card from her when she turned sixteen but that had been it.
Rick was pretty sure she had taken the whole thing really well. Her father stepped up to the challenge, as he always did, and their home life didn't suffer like it could have. Just one less person in the house, which they replaced with a goldfish of the same name.
They pulled up into the driveway and he father was sitting on the porch reading the newspaper and drinking out of a mug. He was still wearing his repairman shirt. He was part owner of a local plumbing company and sold houses on the side. It did keep him busy but it also kept Claire in one of the best schools in the country. Even with the scholarship the cost was like sending her away to college.
He got up as the car doors opened.
“Rick, I got a call that my daughter left school to take you to the hospital. What are you doing driving? I don't want to hear that it was some scheme of yours to get my daughter out of class. You're no Ferris Bueller.”
“Afternoon Bob. I fain-... ah, I passed out. They thought I hit my head. Once we were outside I got some fresh air and felt better. Nothing shady going on today.”
“Right, right, well, I just finished cooking up dinner. You want to join us?”
Rick gave Claire a look. One of many looks, this one was 'can you put up with me for another hour, two tops?'. She came around the car and took him into the house by the hand. Of course she could.
Claire lived in a small ranch house with her dad. Her Mom had skipped out on them a little over two years ago. She had never said why, she just packed a bag one afternoon while Claire and her father had been at a soccer game and left. Claire received a birthday card from her when she turned sixteen but that had been it.
Rick was pretty sure she had taken the whole thing really well. Her father stepped up to the challenge, as he always did, and their home life didn't suffer like it could have. Just one less person in the house, which they replaced with a goldfish of the same name.
They pulled up into the driveway and he father was sitting on the porch reading the newspaper and drinking out of a mug. He was still wearing his repairman shirt. He was part owner of a local plumbing company and sold houses on the side. It did keep him busy but it also kept Claire in one of the best schools in the country. Even with the scholarship the cost was like sending her away to college.
He got up as the car doors opened.
“Rick, I got a call that my daughter left school to take you to the hospital. What are you doing driving? I don't want to hear that it was some scheme of yours to get my daughter out of class. You're no Ferris Bueller.”
“Afternoon Bob. I fain-... ah, I passed out. They thought I hit my head. Once we were outside I got some fresh air and felt better. Nothing shady going on today.”
“Right, right, well, I just finished cooking up dinner. You want to join us?”
Rick gave Claire a look. One of many looks, this one was 'can you put up with me for another hour, two tops?'. She came around the car and took him into the house by the hand. Of course she could.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Blink: 5
“You are nuts! We should have gone to the hospital. You probably bleeding into your brain right now or something.” Claire was sitting next to Rick on the merry-go-round.
“No, I don't think so.”
“You don't think so, to which part?”
“hmm, all of it.” Rich sat up from the position he was lying in and began to slowly turn the merry go round in a counter clockwise direction. They sat quiet for a long time. Claire took out her phone and began exchanging texts with people Rick couldn't see from where they were. He wondered if she was writing about him and then if not having a reason to distrust someone was a reason to trust them. He spun counterclockwise in the circular logic for a while.
“So...” Claire's 'so' was the kind that was a question and an answer all at the same time. She could decide to say nothing more, or she could put Plato to shame. Rick raised an eyebrow to her to establish he heard her. “Prove it to me.”
“That I can travel through time?”
“Yeah, mmmm tell me tomorrows lotto numbers.”
“I can only go back... and I haven't done it on purpose yet.”
“Oh thats makes it easy to prove... how about you wait until tomorrow to travel back to now so you can tell me tomorrows lotto numbers.”
“Thats some pretty solid logic.”
Claire nodded, “Thanks, now what are my numbers?”
“Your numbers?”
“Well, yeah, you are going for me, so they are kinda my numbers. Give'em up.”
“I don't have them yet. I will have them tomorrow.”
“But, when you come back, it will be now. Soooo” This was the profound so that is suppose to sum it all up. “give em up.”
“Right, ok... but theoretically, the you I am going to give them to... wont be you right? I mean when I go back, the you now will keep going. So I will be giving the numbers to an earlier you. A you, you will never know. So, it wont be you, it will be a rich you that you can never be. So they aren't your numbers”
“Shit... that makes sense.” She bit her lip. “UNLESS the me you are talking to right now is the ME that you give tomorrows numbers to.”
“Not possible.”
“What? How is THAT not possible.”
“This is the first time I've done today.”
“If you didn't make so much sense we would be going to the hospital right now. I hope you know that.”
“Claire, can we just hang out in the now?”
“Sure...”
“No, I don't think so.”
“You don't think so, to which part?”
“hmm, all of it.” Rich sat up from the position he was lying in and began to slowly turn the merry go round in a counter clockwise direction. They sat quiet for a long time. Claire took out her phone and began exchanging texts with people Rick couldn't see from where they were. He wondered if she was writing about him and then if not having a reason to distrust someone was a reason to trust them. He spun counterclockwise in the circular logic for a while.
“So...” Claire's 'so' was the kind that was a question and an answer all at the same time. She could decide to say nothing more, or she could put Plato to shame. Rick raised an eyebrow to her to establish he heard her. “Prove it to me.”
“That I can travel through time?”
“Yeah, mmmm tell me tomorrows lotto numbers.”
“I can only go back... and I haven't done it on purpose yet.”
“Oh thats makes it easy to prove... how about you wait until tomorrow to travel back to now so you can tell me tomorrows lotto numbers.”
“Thats some pretty solid logic.”
Claire nodded, “Thanks, now what are my numbers?”
“Your numbers?”
“Well, yeah, you are going for me, so they are kinda my numbers. Give'em up.”
“I don't have them yet. I will have them tomorrow.”
“But, when you come back, it will be now. Soooo” This was the profound so that is suppose to sum it all up. “give em up.”
“Right, ok... but theoretically, the you I am going to give them to... wont be you right? I mean when I go back, the you now will keep going. So I will be giving the numbers to an earlier you. A you, you will never know. So, it wont be you, it will be a rich you that you can never be. So they aren't your numbers”
“Shit... that makes sense.” She bit her lip. “UNLESS the me you are talking to right now is the ME that you give tomorrows numbers to.”
“Not possible.”
“What? How is THAT not possible.”
“This is the first time I've done today.”
“If you didn't make so much sense we would be going to the hospital right now. I hope you know that.”
“Claire, can we just hang out in the now?”
“Sure...”
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Blink: 4
Claire shook Ricks knees and then patted his face working her way up to a proper slap. Teachers had cleared the hallways and a nurse was on her way to them.
“Ricky? Ricky? What the hell?” She cringed and smacked him across the face with a Pop*.
He held his head with both of his hands and worked his way to the lockers with his elbows, Claire assisting him with more support that physical strength. He moved his hands from his temples to over his ears. He was mumbling, mouthing entire conversations and occasionally editorializing. Pleading for silence.
By the time the nurse arrived Rick just appeared disoriented, preoccupied. She asked if everything was alright. He responded as if he was at a basketball game, talking over noise that wasn't actually there.
“Oh dear,” The nurse's head bobbed around Rick's. “He must have hurt his head, Maybe he can't hear? Maybe it was a seizure, or a stroke. Kids can have those, strokes. Ricky, do you have epilepsy Maybe its a tumor pushing on his brain. We should call an ambulance. Oh my, his father might sue.”
“No one is going to sue anyone,” Rick said, he suddenly appeared completely normal. “I forgot to eat breakfast, I am sure I just fainted.”
The nurse was not convinced. “It might be something terribly serious, I can't be held liable. If you drop dead I could lose my job.”
Rick pushed past her, “Claire will take me to the hospital.” Claire stepped forward, she had slid up against the lockers hand was strangling the straps of her shoulder bag. She stepped into stride with Rick, looked back at the nurse who had not stopped talking. Rick's strides were sure and casually placed. She hugged his arm and looked up into his face as they left the building.
They got to the car and Rick put his keys into her hands. “You drive, my head isn't quite clear yet. I am going to shut my eyes.”
He sat slouched in the passenger seat of his two-tone Porsche 911. A car his father had promised to purchase for him. But in his fathers style he went for the car that would teach his boy a lesson. It took Rick a year and a half to learn what he needed to get the thing running.
Claire pulled up to a stop sign and began to turn left. Rick peeked his eyes open. “Where are you going?” Rick sat up a little.
“Hospital,” Claire smacked her lips and looked both ways, she was sitting perfectly upright in the driver seat, her back never touching the back of the seat.
“Don't. I mean, no need. Rather, I have no intention of going. Go left. Lets go to that park near your house. Please.”
The word came out of her mouth slow and revved up almost like a radio announcer, “Suuuure.” She turned left.
She parked and dropped the keys into Ricks lap and tucked his hair behind his ear. She put the back of her hand on his forehead, then finally say back into the drivers seat. She put her finger to her temple and stared at Rick until he did something.
“We're here.” He said.
“I know, I drove us.”
Rick got out of the car and walked over to a merry-go-round. Claire followed, loosing tiny bit of patience along the way.
He started talking mid though, “Its like Deja'vou. But way more intense. And this last time it was doubled. I could hardly hear my own thought, well, I mean they were all my thoughts. But I could hardly hear the ones that didn't seem like they had been tivo'd. It was like I was living three different 'right nows' all at the same time.”
“Are you okay now?”
“I think I can travel through time.”
“Ricky? Ricky? What the hell?” She cringed and smacked him across the face with a Pop*.
He held his head with both of his hands and worked his way to the lockers with his elbows, Claire assisting him with more support that physical strength. He moved his hands from his temples to over his ears. He was mumbling, mouthing entire conversations and occasionally editorializing. Pleading for silence.
By the time the nurse arrived Rick just appeared disoriented, preoccupied. She asked if everything was alright. He responded as if he was at a basketball game, talking over noise that wasn't actually there.
“Oh dear,” The nurse's head bobbed around Rick's. “He must have hurt his head, Maybe he can't hear? Maybe it was a seizure, or a stroke. Kids can have those, strokes. Ricky, do you have epilepsy Maybe its a tumor pushing on his brain. We should call an ambulance. Oh my, his father might sue.”
“No one is going to sue anyone,” Rick said, he suddenly appeared completely normal. “I forgot to eat breakfast, I am sure I just fainted.”
The nurse was not convinced. “It might be something terribly serious, I can't be held liable. If you drop dead I could lose my job.”
Rick pushed past her, “Claire will take me to the hospital.” Claire stepped forward, she had slid up against the lockers hand was strangling the straps of her shoulder bag. She stepped into stride with Rick, looked back at the nurse who had not stopped talking. Rick's strides were sure and casually placed. She hugged his arm and looked up into his face as they left the building.
They got to the car and Rick put his keys into her hands. “You drive, my head isn't quite clear yet. I am going to shut my eyes.”
He sat slouched in the passenger seat of his two-tone Porsche 911. A car his father had promised to purchase for him. But in his fathers style he went for the car that would teach his boy a lesson. It took Rick a year and a half to learn what he needed to get the thing running.
Claire pulled up to a stop sign and began to turn left. Rick peeked his eyes open. “Where are you going?” Rick sat up a little.
“Hospital,” Claire smacked her lips and looked both ways, she was sitting perfectly upright in the driver seat, her back never touching the back of the seat.
“Don't. I mean, no need. Rather, I have no intention of going. Go left. Lets go to that park near your house. Please.”
The word came out of her mouth slow and revved up almost like a radio announcer, “Suuuure.” She turned left.
She parked and dropped the keys into Ricks lap and tucked his hair behind his ear. She put the back of her hand on his forehead, then finally say back into the drivers seat. She put her finger to her temple and stared at Rick until he did something.
“We're here.” He said.
“I know, I drove us.”
Rick got out of the car and walked over to a merry-go-round. Claire followed, loosing tiny bit of patience along the way.
He started talking mid though, “Its like Deja'vou. But way more intense. And this last time it was doubled. I could hardly hear my own thought, well, I mean they were all my thoughts. But I could hardly hear the ones that didn't seem like they had been tivo'd. It was like I was living three different 'right nows' all at the same time.”
“Are you okay now?”
“I think I can travel through time.”
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