Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Kayla and the Maize



Kayla stared across a thicket of maize. The seemingly endless rows of emerald shoots stood in contrast with the orange and blue of her skirt. The silver queen had grown fast and thick this year, ripe for an early harvest. 

She squinted, looking past the gaze of the gleaming sun. She could just barely make out the tip of the church steeple at the end of Serena Lane. This was the road he would come down, but not for a while. 

"Come to the maize by Tohogan's farm," James had told her over the phone. "You know, where we used to play. Meet me just before dusk."

Kayla was so excited to see her childhood friend that she had come almost an hour early. But the heat and the humidity kept coaxing pearls of sweat on her brow, and she soon began to regret her punctuality. Kayla reached into her satchel and blotted her forehead with a kerchief. If only there was shade! 

She surveyed the field, and spotted comfort in an old elm tree a football field away. She hurried towards the sanctuary. The ulmus had borne the years gracefully--it was covered in pockmarks of lovers' trysts and their broken promises. Half of a plank dangled from a rope hung from a higher branch, a relic from a stranger's childhood. Kayla sighed relief and sat down under the umbrella of leaves.

Though she and James had practically been neighbors, Kayla hadn't seen him since high school. After graduation, she had hastily taken the first train away from the suburbs. Away from her parents. Away from their divorce, only to step into her own a decade later. Away from James.

Just then, a faded yellow jalopy sputtered its way down the road, coughing puffs of black smoke now and again, and startled Kayla from her thoughts. She frowned at the inbound motorcar. Was it James? Would he be seen driving something like that? The car slowed to a halt at the far edge of the field, and a hefty man got out. He popped the trunk, and furiously rummaged for a few minutes. The man then slammed the trunk shut, kicked the car, and shrieked in frustration. He got back in the car, and didn't slow as he drove past the elm. For the second time that afternoon, Kayla gave a sigh of genuine relief.

Though she tried to relax under the cooling shade, she could barely contain her nerves. She fidgeted with her bracelet. Was it too gaudy? She took it off, examined her hand, and put it back on again. She felt naked without it. Thinking a touch-up was in order, she fished a compact out of her bag. She scrutinized every bump, every freckle on her face, before deciding she was okay.

As the sun began to meander it's way to the horizon, she caught a glimpse of a handsome stranger walking down the road. Kayla's heart was pounding in her chest. This was him! The stranger was dressed in a spruce suit, complete with a tie. He seemed to be carrying something under his arm. It looked like a telescoping tube. She seemed to recall James saying something about architecture. She smiled to herself and stood up. The closer the stranger came, the faster Kayla's heart raced. Soon he was upon her, and beamed.

"Howdy, ma'am."

"Uhh, hi," Kayla croaked. She could barely speak!

"A little hot to be standing outside, isn't it?" the man asked her.

"Yes, a little," Kayla blushed. She was at a surprising loss for words. He was just so comely.

"I'd loathe to leave a pretty girl standing, but I have to carry some urgent documents to Dr. Laurey. I haven't seen you around these parts before, but maybe I'll run into you in town."

She smiled politely, but realized this wasn't her stranger. "Maybe," she demurred. 

The stranger continued onward, resigning Kayla, all alone, to watch dusk pastel the sky pink then burgundy. Soon she saw the sun fall into the embrace of the night. She picked herself up off the ground and bent over to grab her satchel. It would be a long, dark walk home.

As she rose, Kayla heard a measured whisper.

"Kissy?"

Monday, February 16, 2015

floating.

"floating"

like a star without a shine,

or satin without a sheen,
when you are not beside me,
i'm left floating in-between.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

flowers.


i once found a flower,
beautiful yet grim,
i plucked her from her home,
and smelled her on a whim.

she was fragranced of the heavens,
an evanescent sweet,
but her petals were a’ plenty
her spume was soon replete.

then i felt her plumage,
ever soft and plush,
but when i tired of one,
it crumbled with my touch.

now this once resplendent beauty,
was looking frail and thin,
so i found another blossom,
a patsy for my whims.

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Quiet songs for a cold december

A song I wrote:

Favorite Fan

You were the girl that I thought I would never meet.
You were just sexy, and smart, and ever sweet.
We were up on the roof, you were my only queen,
But now we're stuck on the ground, in the mezzanine.

I'll take it. We might make it. It hurts too damn bad to break it.

There you were my favorite fan,
We should be dancing, but you just stand.
Why didn't you try to take my hand,
When I asked for another dance, tonight?

Our summertime highs, were a sight to see,
All bubbles and froth, and a happy we.
Now the strain in your eyes, its hard to see.
I think I should take from this jail and set your free.

You fake it. We won't make it. It hurts too damn bad to take it.

There you are my faithless fan,
You are dancing with another man,
It's sad I wasn't in your plan,
So now I'll seek another fan, tonight.

Friday, June 21, 2013

Undeserving

I don't deserve my family. I wish I was a better man; hopefully some day I will be.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Pain

Broken

I cannot sleep, for I shall dream,
Of you and me, and all our scenes.
My mind is broken, my heart unfurled,
As tears turn limestone into marl.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Writing

The thesis writing begins! It will be a long road to finish up, but I am looking forward to finally being done with school after this year. This was written for my muse at an earlier:

The Artist She Is
Love paints the portrait of the perfect sunset,
But before she was done, the bristle frayed.
Now pain mutes the stroke of the tremulous brush.
Tears run the colors, but the picture hangs flush.

And this was written when I was in high school:

Color

I do not see in black and white,
For color does not blind my sight.
You and me, we're just the same,
So why're we separate in this game?

The very same way we walk to school,
Yet "Not Allowed" is your rule.
Does color really matter much?
Ain't I human, with a human touch?

Your sniffling nose when your sick,
Your beaming face in total bliss.
I cry, I whimper when I'm sad,
You do the same when feeling bad.

We all the same,you and me,
We're no different as you see.
I laugh, I love, I listen too,
I'm in this melting pot with you.


Finished Reading:
"Simulcron-3" by Daniel F. Galouye
"The Unacustmoned Earth" by Jhumpa Lahiri
"Gitanjali" by Rabindranath Tagore

Currently Reading:
"Tuesdays with Morrie" by Mitch Alborn
"The Line of Beauty" by Alan Hollinghurst