O'Keefe saw it, knew it

The Original

Pornography

The way she painted

pleading, begging petals

exposed, eager, yearning

to be seen by different eyes

to have their texture felt by

shifting fingertips

Strokes--

--for other strokes

Waves thrust on rock, the sun

asks seeds to burst, coaxes stem

and thirsting leaves from dirt

Precious nectars drained and

turned to gold, sticky sweet,

leaving alchemy wherever

it may fall

Spores explode, waterfalls rush

and slowly melt into gentle pools

that hide secrets in their grottos,

roots search quiet, determined for

warm, inviting earth, the clouds part

and drench the bold

The ageless coquette, she spreads

and releases, takes and gives,

dominant, yielding, known

to all, possessed by none,

Coy seductress, winking vixen,

star of The Original

Pornography

We see it, know it

I don’t have a degree in psychology or experience in social work. I have never led group therapy or prescribed medicine. Self-fulfilling-prophecy is the title of a monster movie in my world. I have nothing tangible to offer the depressed and suicidal.

But, I am a great listener.

My office is my bar. My stools double as therapy couches. I hear confessions on 15 minute intervals throughout the day. I make eye contact, nod my head, and watch for facial inflections that proceed bar orders. If the customer wants to explain his life while nursing multiple drinks, then I will listen to his story, and learn what he wants even before he knows himself.

William mixes and pours cement ten hours a day. He drinks beer. His first visit had him wanting whiskey. I extolled the values of the ice cold drafts and the refreshing carbs within. A large sweaty man wants to be refreshed, not drunk. He tells me more of his life each day. I know his twins want to go to college, but William wants them to work when not in school. “Who am I to disagree?”

Mary works as a law clerk, obviously underpaid considering how much she knows. I see her nightly at her table reading briefs and nursing her Virgin Mary. Her face could use a bit of color and her glasses are too large, too heavy. However, if I were a betting man, I would give even odds on the first chap who bothers to look past her superficials to see what she has yet to reveal. She is too intelligent to let such a patient scrutinizer escape her clutches easily.

Then there is Travis. He is a man hiding his pain, attempting to discover a new friend in the bottom of each glass of whatever he is drinking tonight. Every day, Travis discovers a new drink, one with a variety of components, maybe an Old Fashioned, maybe a Manhattan. Tonight, Travis wants Commonwealths. Currently, he is on number three. I will place him on black coffee for number four and then call him a cab. His indifference to others speaks louder than the crowds. At the end of the bar, Travis sits alone and always will until he finds what he is looking for.

These are my clients. I am their doctor. By the end of tonight’s session, they will all leave for the better.

Connoisseurs of the fine line:

To bang the gong for the end of our CotM series, here's a quick video highlighting the winner, and, like all the other pieces in this Challenge, it was seasoned and made for another tough call for the panel, as any one of these posts could have easily won.

With all the updates and upgrades in sight, continuing the Challenge of the Month wouldn't make sense like it has. That stated here, we're still bringing Challenges like these, only less scheduled, so we can expand the breath a bit.

A ton of talent keeps signing up here, and a ton of my time is spent in the minds of you writers, so thank you, and keep it coming. Never enough.

Here's the link for the video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYPWYjXOAu4

And.

As always...

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose. team