We have played this game since the end of it,

Who can act like they never cared the most?

You ended it,

But I cut contact.

This is what started it,

I couldn't stand being the stray who did you favors,

having me be your therapist,

but you didn't even reach out after the accident,

That's when I knew and I walked away from your sadness and sorrows.

Nobody tells you how much silence hurts,

stuck in a room with someone who used to fill you with such happiness,

now only unsaid bombs plague the air.

Who knew silence could cut me to the core?

You were bitter and in turn, lashed out,

In turn, I became bitter too,

because how could you care so deeply then hurt me so for putting me first?

something you knew I already had great trouble with,

but you couldn't let it go and had to make it that much harder.

You kept hurting me because you couldn't handle how life treated me.

So I took it a step further and removed myself from all aspects of your life.

I let the ocean sweep me away

because I couldn't take the shore beating on me any longer.

If you cared so little why did you keep watch of me like a guard dog?

We were caught in a never-ending dance of who could do the most damage,

I did mine by removing myself,

you always hated that I could leave so easily when I knew my time was up

because you could never do the same, letting people abuse you for fun.

You did yours by making me a number,

you knew I hated how you could rank me on your scale in your notes,

skillfully threatening where my name would end up on that list,

you never knew how to hold back did you?

Then one night you visited me once again,

we were where we first met,

we were just kids, yet we were here all grown up now.

I carried on as if nothing happened laughing like my life depended on it.

You questioned me then,

You broke the fourth wall of my dream

and asked why I was so happy after everything that has happened

I was taken aback it is my dream after all, so why can't we just enjoy it?

I replied that I had learned and moved on,

I have grown from what you have put me through

and have chosen to put it behind me.

You paused baffled at the way I carried myself.

I then asked how you have been dealing with life,

We talked about everything with no hindrance or malice,

and when we were both content with the conversation,

The morning came.

With it so did the confusion of the rawness that a dream could hold.

I just pray you were there in that dream too,

That we talked and connected about what happened,

That you got the same closure I did,

even if it was never really you who gave it to me.

Is my soul a milkshake

so tasty and satisfying

that you greedily slurp

till i’m gone ?

Do you need to feed

on my heart like a steak

rare with juices of creative

inspirations ?

Why must my brain

be your fine delicacy

for late night snack

or fancy ?

Does my sweat taste of wine

poured into crystalline glass

quenching thirst for my labor

and accomplishment ?

Are you full ?

I am now dry.

Not a bite for consumption.

If you starve,

not a thing I can do.

Every time and again

a Page saunters along

lame of tongue, says:

"---Art is Dead!"

And I graze him one,

right across the maw:

I know, but we are not

12.07.2023

Dead Again challenge @dctezcan

summer in winter .

still here: running out of words

quicksand, feeling again

sick maybe, just for one day

(i hope i say the right thing) -does it matter?

consequently,

colored pencil walls scratching against the sky

mixed with cloudsoaked future things (made up)

just stories i write

,summer in winter or winter in summer or

More punctuation.

I could barely make a phone call today

, or cook a simple meal

, which means im not sure i

m ready i d

The snow never touches the ground.

hanging on to things

I shouldn't

plastic silverware, handwritten notes,

birds in my brain, heart full of holes,

and all

this tomorrow (tomorrow) made up and swimming in circles

- unbelievably good, unbelievably bad

, all in my head (head)

springsummer : sunlight in winter

evergreen picking

together carrying,

Mommy and me,

then decorating

while listening to Chipmunks

and Brenda Lee

joyful celebration

at midnight mass

warm milk

sweet dreams

Written for my niece who lost her little girl in a drowning accident:

I know your anguish is for me

But take a breath and let it be

I am not far as you may think

Time nor space will break our link

I feel no pain and have no fear

I was with you shortly and hold it dear

You have more to do and lives to touch

my love for you is oh so much

So take a breath and hold it deep

Let it out and please don't weep

I am happy here, this new place I live

but you have so much more to give

I'll be here when it's your time

my heart is yours and yours is mine

So when you're sad and miss me so

Take a breath and always know

I am where I need to be

Smiling at all I see

So until I can hold your hand and bring you here

Live your life without fear

Happiness seems far away

But will get closer with each passing day

So take a breath and let it out

There are great things for you, have no doubt

In your reflection see my smile

I am part of you there is no denial

Our binding link is always there

Even though it seems unfair

There is a way to see it through

See me happy as you always do

and know when you smile, I smile too

... so take a breath

and let it out

I ache for the touch of your skin on my skin

The gentle pressing of your palms upon my breasts

Please kiss me softly, hold back but never to taunt me, just to let me rest before you begin once again

Take me to the beach at sunset and toss me down onto the shore

Tug your fingers through my hair and bite my lips once more

I need a little connection, to feel the beat of your heart against mine

I’m starving, darling

I need you like water, like a wanderer needs a river on a summer night

Because I’ve been lost for years in a lonely desert, with nothing to fasten me to life

Tell me, dear, would you taste the salt on my tongue?

Would you dig your fingernails into my shoulder or the flesh in between my ribs and collarbone?

Would you hold me so I don’t sink into the dirt?

So I don’t float away, untethered from Earth?

Please. Stay.

Take your hand in mine and trace the curve of my arm, the crook of my elbow, the fragile skin between my forefinger and thumb

Wait with me for sunrise to arrive

peaceful and sweet and clean and new

The 911 missing person call from the Sunnyside Nursing Home came in at 8:45 PM on Christmas Eve. My partner and I had signed on for the extra holiday shift because we didn't have a family waiting at home for us. We were just a couple of twice-divorced, bitter single folks counting down the hours to retirement, living on donuts, coffee, and adrenalin.

As we headed toward the outskirts of town where the nursing home was located, the heavy falling snow made the roads slippery, and visibility was low. There were better nights than this for a search and rescue operation, that was certain. The thermometer wasn't helping us either, as it was hovering at -2 degrees. My biggest fear was that the missing resident had decided to go for a walk in the nearby woods, probably dressed only in a nightgown and slippers.

"So, what do you think, Tucker? Senior Citizen flavored ice-pop?" I asked my partner.

Looking at me over his black-framed glasses, he just shook his head and replied, "Jesus, Smitty. You are the most vile woman I've ever met. Let's hope not."

"Hey, I call 'em like I see 'em. It's two degrees below zero, it's a blizzard, and the missing woman is probably half-naked."

Silently scanning the woods alongside the road, Tucker just kept his thoughts to himself as we approached the driveway to the home. The cruiser plowed through six inches of wet, heavy snow, and we pulled up to the front entrance as an employee waved us in.

After stomping the snow off our boots, the nurse ushered us down the quiet hallway that smelled of ammonia and lemon pledge. "Birdy seemed just fine at dinner. We had a special Christmas Eve meal with a lovely cake for dessert. She was singing along to the carols the high school chorus was performing. I don't understand it. She has been fairly lucid these past couple of weeks."

The nurse unlocked a door, and we entered "Birdy's" sanctuary. "We will look around, but I don't know if we'll find any clues. Have you contacted her family?" I asked, pawing through well-organized drawers and flipping through neatly hung garments in the closet. A sudden flash of familiarity went through my mind as I caught the distinctive scent of Muguet de Bois perfume. My Aunt Dolly had worn that daily, and it was one of her favorite Christmas gifts from me. A sudden feeling of connectivity overwhelmed me. I pushed that sucker back down where it belonged. I told myself that this was business, not a family reunion with ghosts.

"Oh, her family has all moved away, the ones she had left. Her husband passed away last year around this time, and we thought we were going to lose her too," the nurse explained.

Tucker piped up, "We will take a quick look around the property, but I think I will call the search and rescue team in case she has wandered into the woods. There's a creek running through just a few dozen yards from the property, and we don't want to take a chance."

"Oh, dear. That's not good. Well, whatever I can do for you, please let me know. Please don't hesitate to look in all the common areas. We've checked the resident rooms already," The nurse informed us.

Tucker, always more astute to the human condition than I was, commented, "You don't think she wandered away on purpose because she was thinking about her late husband, do you?"

"Naw. She was probably glad to not deal with his snoring and bad habits anymore. I'll bet she's shacking up with some hot, young orderly," I snapped.

"Never mind," he snapped back, rolling his eyes at me.

We made the rounds of the dining room, kitchen, and physical therapy rooms with no luck. Tucker pulled his watch cap on over his thinning, gray hair. "Time to go for a walk in the snow. You coming?"

"Do I have a freakin' choice?" I whined.

"Nope," he declared with a smirk.

"I didn't think so," I glumly concluded as I pulled my cap and gloves on, following him out into the frigid night air, my nostrils sticking together with every breath and my cheeks prickling in the cold wind. "Sheesh, I hope she was dressed warmly, this is brutal out here, even with our winter gear," I opined.

"Chances are she was in a nightgown and bedroom slippers, Smitty. I'm gonna call in the search and rescue team and grab some blankets and a first aid kit from the cruiser."

He handed me the emergency blankets and kit while he radioed in the call. Once we knew the team was en route, we began a careful search of the property, looking for footprints, which were hard to find with all the fresh snow that had fallen. Having no luck in the parking lot or yard of the home, we began walking down the road twenty feet in either direction, looking for any hint of our "Birdy".

Nothing to the South, so we turned around and headed North, carefully brushing snow away as we trudged through tire ruts so our footprints wouldn't cover up the missing person's prints. About twenty-five feet down the road, we found a pair of twisted and bent wire-framed glasses that had been crushed into a tire rut.

"What do you think, Tuck? Abduction? Rescuer?"

"Hard to say. I don't see any signs of a struggle near the glasses. Maybe it was a good Samaritan, and they took her to the hospital? I'll radio it in to check hospitals," he told me as he touched the radio on his shoulder that buzzed into life.

I walked forward about ten paces and could barely make out the outline of a small, bare footprint highlighted by my flashlight in the crystalline snow. Oh boy. It was worse than I thought. She wasn't even wearing bedroom slippers. How on earth did an eighty-year-old woman walk this far in this weather barefoot?

"Tuck, Tuck! I found footprints. You aren't going to believe this, but our Birdy is barefoot in this howling storm."

This missing person had become "our Birdy" in less than half an hour. This is why cops can't leave their work at work. Our work is all about human beings. Whether we arrest or save them, they infiltrate our souls with their troubles and seep their pain into our hearts, whether we want them to or not.

Birdy had grabbed a hold of my heart as soon as I smelled that familiar old-fashioned French perfume my Aunt used to wear. For Tuck, it probably happened as soon as he heard the call. He's like that, always trying to hide his tender heart under a gruff exterior. But he can't fool me. We'd been riding together for seven years, and not much gets past me. Tucker had held me together and kept me employed while recovering from my second divorce. It was messy and sad and took me forever to get over. He listened quietly, never offering to fix me. That was all I needed: an ear.

Tuck knelt down in the snow beside me to examine the footprint. Running his gloved hands down his face in frustration, he turned to me and said, "This just keeps getting worse. It's a long way to walk barefoot in this weather. She must be one determined lady. Let's stay close to the ground and see if more prints show up."

He found the next set of prints: one bare foot and one with a slipper still on. At least she still had one slipper. We were hunched over, practically crawling on the hard-packed snow, while the storm kept barreling down, relentlessly blasting our faces with bitter, stinging, icy pellets.

Tuck looked up at me with concern. "Smitty, you holding up? You need a break?" he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his uniform pants pocket for me.

"Thanks, yeah. I'm just worried about our Birdy. She's not going to be okay, is she, Tuck?" I asked, wiping the tears and snow from my face.

"I can't even think that far ahead. We're thirty years younger, dressed for the weather, and struggling. I just want to find her, is all."

Flashing red lights lit up the snowbanks and danced off from the whirling snow, causing us to move to the side of the road as the search and rescue teams approached. I flagged them down and told the lead team they needed to search the wooded area behind the nursing home to rule out the danger of Birdy falling into the frigid waters of the creek. Once they were on their way, Tucker and I resumed our painstaking search for tiny footprints.

An unusual glint caught my eye as we crept along, searching for clues. I shone my light on it and was rewarded with a broken gold necklace with a locket hanging from the twisted chain. I held it up in the air, and Tucker pushed himself up from a crouch with a groan and shuffled over to take a look. I wiped the slush off the locket and pried it open with freezing fingers. On one side was an oval frame with a tiny photograph of a dapper young man with dark hair combed into a duck's tail. On the other side was a similar photo of a pretty girl with short, blonde curls neatly tucked into a pink chiffon head scarf. A perfect fifties couple who probably did the twist and listened to Chubby Checker together. Maybe they went to the malt shop and high school hops.

Birdy was now more than a memorable scent or an elderly missing person to us. She was real. A person who had lived a life and deserved to be found so she could keep living. We stayed on the trail until the little footprints disappeared into a snowbank at the side of the road.

Tuck reached out and steadied me as I climbed the bank, wondering at the agility of our little Birdy. I had all I could do to not wipe out in the two feet of snow, even with help from Tucker. Once settled at the base of the hill's incline, I helped Tuck keep his balance on the slippery slope as we climbed. A fresh wind blew the powdery snow aside, revealing more tiny prints that had previously made it up this mound.

"Where was she going?" I asked Tuck, troubled that this woman would have ventured out in the storm on some mysterious mission that only she understood.

"Beats me. But I don't think she was out here wandering. I think she knew exactly where she was going. Just a hunch." He replied.

We slipped and slid to a small tree stand in the middle of an old farm field, bordered on two sides with haphazard rock walls that stood two feet high and were covered almost completely by the storm. An unnatural lump was evident in the snow near an old apple tree. A sick feeling began in the back of my throat and traveled to my mouth as I retched up my last cup of coffee.

"No! Birdy, we're here, we're here. Don't give up!" I yelled as the blizzard winds stole my words, rendering me voiceless.

Tuck reached out and took my arm gently. "Smitty, Darlene, we've found her. But she's not alive. Okay? Look at me. It's Okay. We did what we could, and we'll take her back home. Give me the blankets. You stay here."

"No. I don't want Birdy to be alone. I'm coming with you. I'm all right. I want to be there with her, Tuck."

Shaking his head, Tucker knew not to argue with me. We approached the lump under the snow with caution and gently brushed the accumulation off from our dear Birdy, who had died with a brilliant smile on her face and her eyes open and shining happily in the glow of my flashlight. So untroubled and young-looking was she that I immediately could tell she was the pretty girl in the locket.

We placed the blanket over her, rolling her over so her body was completely shrouded and protected from the frigid cold and wind. I called in to dispatch and told them to send the search and rescue home, as Tucker and I had found the missing person deceased in the snow. I gave them the last known location before we left the road, and dispatch would send the coroner's vehicle to that location.

As always, Tucker was more aware of his hunches than I was. Before we hefted Birdy's little body between us for the hike down the hill to the road, he walked closer to the apple tree where Birdy had spent her last moments on Earth. Brushing away the windswept, caked snow from the trunk of the gnarled little tree, Tucker waved me over.

'Jimmy

Her smile ignores optics

A visual for only my mind's eye

A direct message sidesteps synaptics

A communiqué to amplify

Elsewhere

Elsewhere, she takes me there

With transportation yet uninvented

Right-angle turns at the speed of prayer

With a caret to mark the unprecedented

In æther

In æther, zephyrs windblown, sideways

Through time, and laced with singularities

Inflating as each other's stowaways

And living out life with clarity

In parallax

In parallax, we set our sight

Resolute motion on tandem vectors

Being, there, has always been bright

And mutual radiance our connector

On ample bandwidth

"I do," says

The Truth,

and kills it-

self in proof,

again n' again:

That is the Tao,

and the I Ching

the very Aching

of Be-ing . . . . .

12.05.2023

Truth kills... Sometimes challenge @dctezcan