wide awake

"1, 2, 3 [snap fingers], WIDE AWAKE"
suddenly we are all alert in our folding chairs
audience chuckling at our various states of hypnosis
eating their corn dogs and telling their kids to sit still a little longer

he has trained us to be dolly partons, roosters crowing,
elvis and in love with the person next to us
there is a ringer
he is the shoe-stealer
stuffs all of our shoes in his clothing
as the audience howls with laughter
but i know he's a fake because i saw him do it before

and what about the rest of us?
are we so eager for a laugh that we will pretend we are under this spell?
so eager that even in my bed
at 5 am
i am suddenly wide awake
and doing as i was told

churning my emotions like butter and
looking for any old soul to curl up next to
finding no one and no laughs to encourage much effort

i'd rather be like the magician than the hypnotist
pulling fanciful items out of my top hat
i'd choose a rabbit over everything else, though
soft, easy, innocent
nuzzles me like a scared child
doesn't know any better
trusts me like i am home
rather than the great manipulator of its life

wide awake
at 5am
i do as i was told
i am the damn bunny
and i just want to crawl back into that top hat
and i just want to get off this stage

stuck.

here is where i step to the left and make my way out of this portrait
it's me, in the sand, on the beach, hair blowing, simplicity flowing, and instead of romping i am
stuck.
sand in my shoes,
full
barely room for my toes.
rocks on either sides of my feet, heavy; serious about their stance.
i am in black and white
my attempt at color is thwarted
my blemishes are hiding and
i'm still as a broken clock

this night will last longer than many
this night will remind me of past nights,
friends in pain, me dug into my rut by hand, by foot, by no fault of mine and by every whim
too much wine, an outburst at the dinner table,
a permanent view of the ocean, who moves more than i ever could
because i'm stuck.
i am in this abandoned hotel of a brain
slinking through hallways of old dusty memories and
collecting rusty room keys like they hold a story that matters
playing with perfume bottles that have long since lost their liquid but still
puff-puff air out with a faint scent of something ladylike

my nails painted, my hair blowing, my perma-stare directed where i'll never go
these stones are my friends
holding my ground with me
weighted and waiting
for me to be unstuck
but there is no other way i know
it is who i am
i am still when it is time for me to move
because who am i without those holding me down?

climbing out one word at a time. . . .

my strangest relationship

one day it will catch up with me. one day all of the people who have waited for me in my life will revolt, and i will be left with no one. undoubtedly.
i have six watches. none have batteries.
i don't live by time like you do. i don't plan things out based on the minute/hour/day/year system.
i feel them out and wonder where i'll be and how i'll be feeling and if i will be in the mood to wear a skirt that day.
you are always waiting for me. any of you. coffee date, lunchtime, beer downtown, trip to san fran, costco run.
time and i just don't get along. shouldn't say that. time and i just don't know each other very well. strangers. but i've heard a lot about time. and time has no patience for me. it doesn't ever slow down and understand that when i'm walking out the door to an appointment i, without fail, get a phone call of some kind of crisis and am waylayed and am therefore...late.
always late.
but in an alternate universe i'm early, i guarantee you. betcha.
for something really super great.

house shopping.

this one's too new.

sequins really don't matter.

in my good riddance party dress.

it's time.

cuckoo.