Third Grade Feet

They slipped on perfectly, though I had to pull the back strap a tiny bit just to wiggle my heel in. They were the height of fashion, and looked good with any outfit. They were my favorite pair. Clear with sparkles, they glimmered in the sunlight. They had a silver clip on the side, and they covered my toes with a rounded tip. They were very strappy, multiple clear sparkled bands criss-crossing my size 5 third grade foot. They were my  Jellies. 

I was wearing them the day that we had a special music lesson in the gym. The lights turned down and my feet shimmered from any light that snuck into the darkened room. We all sat on the floor not particularly organized. Some next to friends, others close to the screen that would eventually play a movie. Jacob Bloomer sat next to me. A small part of me panicked, because Emily, my best friend and envier of my coveted Jellies, had just passed Jacob a note telling him I had a crush on him. He returned the note, it said "me too". 

Jacob Bloomer and I grew up. He never knew that he was my first crush. He probably doesn't remember passing notes in the third grade. But it wasn't really about Jacob Bloomer. It was about being a third grader. Realizing I liked a boy, making friendships where we were jealous of each-others clothes, we learned to keep secrets, and told boys we liked them. It was about winning and losing in innocent love. It was about playing on the playground and going to music class. It was about my favorite pair of shoes. Shoes that I wore every day, and when the strap finally broke I cried. It is about a memory.

The Importance of being Ernest

She said that she looked into his eyes
she called them "forever blue"
this changed everything
they told her secrets and she craved them

together they became
feigning interest in the trifles for simple love
to carrying the heavy things in passion
invisible forces willing them away

a photo in black and white
as in nostalgia, trying to grasp the falling sands
and the welling fear that the past is gone
though vivid as this moment

she said she saw through him
an image not of vision, but of sentiments
his figure, now just the arms that held her
his face, the butterflies in her stomach

a small tree in green grass
the only witness to such insatiable love
a first kiss, a last kiss, many tears
fallen leaves a tribute to the lovelorn

it was not the love of bodies
as in the essence of two intertwined
pressing close enough together to become one
the realization that you were never whole

she said she let him in
strength of a monster, destroying fortifications
two vulnerable hearts with only one fear
as strong as they are weak

the days blew away in the wind
time and hearts grew colder with the season
love never leaves, nor does it fade
and a word was spoken to destroy worlds

ink and tears dripped in his name
as in the lesson that life is change
the heartache's mind a dangerous sanctuary
forever to harbor empty love

she said she told him to love her

Wait

The word is "wait"
a state of repose,
as in him who I
linger, sojourn, anticipate
and I answered forever.

Hurry

Hurry cat- scratch, its almost 2:00 and the fat bird waits on no one. You tell the doctor not to call me but he stands on the mountain throwing pickles on passers-by, the Heathens, Heathen. Time wears a red robe and the children pull and the threads as they eat the sour cucumbers and yell in anger at the bald horse eating from the bag and even the shoes haven't a kick in the world and the pit in the plum pouts pitiful drops of sweet blood. You holler in silence at the dirty dog because that trash on the table feeds your appetite for salt and fear and he eats the falling rocks that bound up the sea. see. sea. World means nothing to you and the pigs called dinner but everything to the tires and feet and ants. Nonsense? You coward. Fool-heartedly fretting the Myth of Sisyphus and the Notes from the Underground. Never understanding a word of the bark or squawk because you too speak the nothing words of the gods. glory for the sake of glory, you're a glutton for the feel good things. Droppin' dollars on dogs on beats by the kids they call old hats now because they lived in the lemon drop days.  




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