0445 wake up
0445 wake up by
Tick crawling on face.
0650 out the door
To find empty gas tank.
Got to work on time.
Ok. Good.
Equipment refuses to function
Just as surgeon is ready for
More xray guidence.
Do a quick switcharoo
For less broken machine.
Favorite pen drops to death
In pool of blood.
1630 still in OR.
Should be walking out the door.
Teammates forgot me.
1700 work day is done!
Nobody died.
Obsession
110
100
90
That’s how
I fell
From a healthy
13
Year old girl
To a frail
Child
Obsessed with
Becoming thinner,
And thinner.
A bagel dressed
With cream cheese
Served as fuel for
An entire day.
Track practice
Soccer practice
X-Country skiing.
A sip of water;
Not too much.
Concave stomach,
Protruding hips,
Absent meses,
Hair as dull as matte.
Concerned parents
Dragged me to the doc.
Every drop of urine
Collected for a week.
Protein present…
Kidneys failing.
“Lose one more pound and you’ll be admitted”.
The obsession to be
Thinner
Thinner
Thinner
Consumed me for a year.
We were
ONE
But...
I had to kill it;
The Obsession,
Before it killed me.
My older brother
Sat with me
As I slowly,
Painfully
Consumed a half
PBJ sandwich.
My stomach hurt.
My pride hurt.
Concave stomach
Expanded.
Protruding hips
Disappeared.
Absent meses
Made their monthly appearance.
Hair as smooth as silk again.
90
100
110 +
24 years later
And still reflecting,
Still not knowing
Why that
Obsession
Consumed me.
I’m happy it’s dead.
Labels
Fat
Skinny
No!
I’m me
White
Black
No!
I’m me
Smart
Stupid
Rich
Poor
No!
I’m me
Labels
Narrow one’s perspective
Of the world
People
Put others into boxes,
Never to be opened
A behavior
Learned from generation
To generation
We
Are all in someone’s
Box, as they are in ours
Hate
Prejudice
Ignorance
Fear
Break open
The boxes
See others
For who they are;
Fellow Humans;
You, Me
We are NOT
Fat, skinny
White, black
Smart, stupid
Rich, poor
We are
You,
Me,
Humans,
Life,
Love
Spectrum Experienced
Subdued world
Absent of vibrant colors
Accompanied Father for
65 years
Reds, yellows, greens
Hidden as muddy browns,
Blues muted to dull
Grays
A terrible shame,
A world half experienced
When surrounded by
Nature’s marvelous show
Father travels to
America’s Last Frontier
With his 3 children
In celebration of retirement
Half-pipe valleys,
Carpeted green,
Sprinkled with pinks and purples,
Meet cobalt sky
This trip MUST be
Fully experienced
With eyes capable of receiving
Such magnificent beauty
Children gift Father
Magical glasses,
He slides them on
“What do you see, Dad?”
“Oh My God”
Father instantly transports
To an extraordinary world
Bursting with colors
Of the entire spectrum
Muddy browns, only the moose as
Vivid greens
Visit his eyes now,
A world fully experienced!
Not Ready
Maine. 1992. Summer’s dusk accompanies the cricket choir. A warm breeze cools the sweaty skin of the little girl and takes a wisp of hair across her face. She perches upon the front porch, gazing across the greenest front lawn, to the forest beyond, then up to the fading sky. Night ushers in a calmness, stillness.
Suddenly, high noon bursts through the unsuspecting darkness! A white flash explodes and little girl floats
Up
Up
Faster
Faster.
She feels light, free, calm, content.
She realizes the truth; she is
Dead.
“No, no! This isn’t right!” she thinks. She feverishly begs God to let her live. She’s too young to die. She can’t leave her parents yet. Please, please. She has so much to do. Just please bring her back to earth, to her body.
She begins to sink. The weight of the world descends upon her shoulders
HEAVIER
as she nears earth. So heavy, heavy.
Her spirit reunites with her physical form. A dismal gratefulness swirls inside her core.
G A S P!
Eyes flicker. Labored breathing ensues. Confusion entangles her mind.
A dream?
An awakening?
An untimely death?
She seems to think it a premonition of her mortal end.
Or is she already dead?
20 Degrees
Twenty degrees chills me to the bone today. Wasn't like that a year ago. The only exposure to a bitter Baltimore winter I had last year was the thirty second walk from my cozy office to my preheated Beamer. Forty miles later, I strolled into my warm home and turned on the fireplace with a click of a button. I would listen to Frankie and sip top shelf bourbon and do my first line. God, life was good. Life was so good until one line turned into two, three. Pills. Heroin. Fuck. I fucked it all up. I couldn't make it to work on time. I smelled of rotten fish and looked like the homeless wreck I am today. Yeah, I was fired but I still had to feed my high. Sold the Beamer. Sold the house and everything in it. I had to. You don't understand the hell that ensues when you're coming down. Death. It feels like death, but you're not lucky enough to die. So you exert what morsel of energy you have left and dig deep in your shallow pocket to get ONE MORE HIGH.
Goddam. Twenty degrees never leaves when there's no place to retreat to.