You’re Mine

You’re mine and have been for years.

That is not as territorial nor as possessive as it sounds, it is just a statement of fact.

Sure there have been more than a few times when you have disputed this and or called me crazy for saying such things.

Those have always been punctuated by the moments in which you have told me I was yours and always would be and suggested there would never be a reason why it would be any different.

Sometimes I would suggest you operate off of your own double standards and then laugh when you tried to say otherwise. Logic is not as strong a suit as you might wish for and no amount of protest will change my mind.

And now stuck between George singing My Sweet Lord and It Don’t Come EasyIt Don’t Come Easy a wry smile crosses my face.

Two days ago I was accused of being deaf and of being able to ignore the world and I laughed because I am and I can.

It don’t come easy but the best things never do.

They ask for the difference between crazy and insane and all I do is wink.

The music in this place is still pumping out songs of long ago but ones that sometimes have meaning that transcends time and space.

Understanding meets misunderstanding and chaos is unleashed because no one hears the words that are said or listens to those that follow.

The time for thought is past and action takes its place but no one knows where the ball will end up on the spinning wheel or whether its placement will lead to cheering or cries of sorrow.

One giant adventure caused by a contraction and the word that follows. You’re mine.

Maybe once upon a lifetime ago or maybe never again and the silver ball bounces from red to black to red to black to…

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The Game Is Afoot

He was standing in the middle of an airport waiting for a plane to take him back to his new home when he realized he was slow dancing by himself.

Willie was singing The Last Thing I Needed First Thing This Morning and he was softly swaying back and forth, lost in a secret world.

He wasn’t upset or embarrassed by the realization and it wasn’t because no one had noticed him but because it felt like a hint of the future.

Somewhere out in the ether there was someone who would say he was crazy to think such a thing. The thought made him giggle a bit and a curvy lip broke into a broad smile.

“The game is afoot now and there is no telling where it might end. Maybe in a book or a movie or a broken heart.

What would you do if I said I have never stopped loving you and that I can’t stomach the idea of never kissing you again. What would you do if I said we ought to ‘accidentally’ show up in the same theater and share a moment in a movie.”

The reflection mocked him and made the words sound hollow and forced.

He turned and unleashed the full force of his glare upon it and was gifted with the same look in return.

“I see through you. I know who you are. I own space in your head and your heart rent free. Maybe you’ll open your eyes or maybe you won’t. Willful blindness is a gift and a curse.”

He held out his hand and waited to see if the reflection would leave it hanging or take it.

A wink and a smile followed, “when you think of me, you ought to know I am…”

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The Key To Everything

IMG_0439There are a bunch of stories about Johnny and June and the crazy twists and turns of their relationship.

One of them talks about crazy he would make her because as she would begin to feel close to him and think about connecting he would do things that would infuriate her.

She would wonder if it was intentional or if there was something about being male that made him blind.

Once she told him that all he had to do was keep his mouth shut and she would come running back. He had laughed and said that she didn’t want a mute and that neither one of them knew how to do that and when she smiled he knew she agreed.

Later on he told her that when she was gone he wondered if maybe she didn’t care as much and that he wished he could just pretend he felt nothing.

She had rolled her eyes at him and told him he was an idiot. They both smiled and held hands and stared out at the sunset.


There was another tale of a time when they were on tour together but not talking.

They’d ride the bus, sing their songs on stage and go their separate ways.

One night he got drunk and a made a comment that set her off and he got more than an earful in return.

She laid into him and he yelled back that he wasn’t a mind reader and she stormed off.

Later that night when he lay in bed desperate to talk to her but unwilling to let her know he thought about how it sometimes felt like they shared a heart.

Thought about how they could say soul mate one day and then roll their eyes the next like it never had truth.

Must be some sort of lock upon those things and if you could find the right key you would be set. nerudakiss

He caught her staring at him a bunch of times and wondered what was going on.

Sometimes she glared and sometimes she smiled but she never said anything and since pride wouldn’t let him make the first move he stayed silent.

Sat there and wondered how long the nonsense would go on for this time.

There were moments where he thought about just kissing her. Wouldn’t say a word, would just walk up, grab her and kiss her.

The poets would talk about that and write verses about the electric shock that would hit them both.

It would be magic and she would melt.

Or she would slap him and call it assault.

So he did nothing more than think about it and occasionally send it out thoughts.

“Woman, if you really want to know what is going on you are going to have to reach out or make me feel comfortable reaching out. I have done what I can do.”

Years later when the biographers asked them if June had ever confirmed whether she could hear his thoughts they got a smile.

They pressed for words and got “I knew what I needed and what I needed him to do.”

Again they pressed for more detail and this time he responded, “every time I think I understand women and know what to something happens that makes me think I am a genius and an idiot.”

I am a simple man with simple needs. Don’t take that to mean I am stupid, because we’re not talking about intelligence either.”


And then he muttered something about a long and winding road and went silent.

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He wasn’t going to move anything from heart to head to page because he was jammed for time or so he told himself.

Except brutal honesty required him to say he would put a few down because it was a sort of conversation with himself and someone important to him.

Because he was somewhere between scared and certain that everything he was doing was the best he could do and yet not good enough.

Had to keep moving forward because there was no time or reason to stay in place. The past was what was and the present wasn’t right for the future so moving forward was required.

Didn’t matter what certain outcomes were, none of the ones he hoped for could come from a stationary existence.

So he cast out his thought about many things, hugs, quiet conversations, laughter, hot sex and the quiet confidence that came from holding hands in silence.

There was more that could be said in more eloquent or more descriptive terms. Could be more romantic or more forceful because those were options too, but for the moment he could do nothing but tap a couple of keys.

Tickle that board and see what showed up on the page and wonder if confidence, and vulnerability would do a damn thing.

Maybe not, maybe yes, there was never a way to see what lay on the other side of doors you didn’t knock upon or try to open.

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Take A Chance

Once upon a time he heard a story about an elderly woman who spoke longingly about a red haired boy.

None of her grandchildren knew who he was to her. They couldn’t say whether he was a lost love or lover or just some friend she once had.

At least one suspected that grandma had loved him deeply but not knowing more than that she had no way to figure out the particulars.

Most of the time she didn’t think twice about it but there were moments she wondered if maybe she and grandma shared more in common than they knew. Since grandma was long gone there wasn’t any way to make that determination which was too bad, because she was certain grandma could have offered excellent advice.


Back in her own world she had her own set of questions she thought about it but usually chose not to delve too deep because they took her to places that were uncomfortable.

There was a boy she was curious about. She tried hard not to let it show or to let him think she was because she wasn’t entirely certain what she wanted to do. If she showed too much interest she was certain he would take it the wrong way.

And that was problematic because he could cause chaos and she wanted simplicity.

The problem was she loved his brand of chaos and feared taking a chance because it was a storm that you couldn’t just control.

Sometimes she thought about asking him questions but his answers could be unsettling and obnoxious. He would tell her that when her legs were wrapped around him that he would gladly answer all of her questions.

Most of the time when he said such things she would push back hard and express her disgust but she wasn’t ever sure if she was angry with him for saying it or angry with herself for not going for it.

She never could decide if she was angrier with him for pushing or for not pushing hard enough.


Of course he never forgot the time she told him she would never forgive him for not finding her earlier.

Every now and then he thought about asking her if she really meant it, expecting her to deny it, but the thought of her saying yes made him cringe a little bit.

Life could be so damn simple and so complicated.

Would be nice to have her legs wrapped around him because for however long that moment lasted everything would make sense.

He remembered asking for a favor and being certain she would say no. When she smiled and said yes he almost fainted.

Thinking about it made him look at the reflection and admit that he had no real idea where life might take him.

It was safest to not expect her to be a part of it or so he thought. That made him think of how many times she told him about life would be a certain way until she changed her mind.

That made him think of how many times she told him about life would be a certain way until she changed her mind.

It brought a chuckle to  his lips because he could see her tell him he was an idiot for thinking there was a possibility and an idiot for not believing there was.

As decisive as she might be that damn woman could still change her mind on a dime and try to make you believe you were just confused.

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Places We Fear To Go

He thought about writing her a letter in which he would tell her his thoughts, no holds barred.

He’d tell her he never stopped loving her and say he believed she never stopped loving him.

It would say he thought fear had held them back from moving forward the way they had always wanted to and would be so eloquently crafted he knew she would take his hand and take the chance he never had.

“You just want to bang me. You’re a guy. You can put it anywhere and all you want is to get my pants off of me or have me drop to my knees.”

Those weren’t words he had to imagine because she had said them to him before and he had always disputed them, had pushed back.

Had told her she was an idiot if she believed he just wanted to have her for her body.

“I love and have always loved you for your heart. I love the smile you give me that no one else gets and how you make me remember what it is like to truly live.

I love the look in your eyes when we are in our world and knowing that no one else can take you there just as no one else takes me.”

He could have kept going down the path but it was easier to let anger wash over him and help him avoid being taken to the places we fear to go.

In his heart he was convinced she felt the same ache and desire for connection he did.

He was certain if they were alone and he pushed her against the wall she would look at him with fire in her eyes and use words that would scald his ears. She would call him names and tell him how awful and disturbed he was.

It would hurt to hear it as it always did when she turned her wrath upon him. He would never understand how he could ignore the barbs from everyone else and not care what they think.

She was different and he knew it. Always the response pierced his heart and always it hurt, but he didn’t always say so or show it. Maybe it was ego or maybe it was fear.

Maybe it was because he hated being vulnerable but remembered once upon a time she had made it ok for him to be so and he missed feeling the embrace of her smile and the safe space.

Sometimes he’d look in the mirror and ask the reflection how it felt to know he was fucked.

It was never as simple as saying love the one you’re with.

So anger was where you went to find succor and safety. If you couldn’t be in the secret world it was easier to be angry and to pick upon the things the other did that pissed you off.

Find and focus upon their shortcomings and convince yourself that those were reason enough not to try to visit the places we fear so that you didn’t have to face possible rejection.

Or if that didn’t work do something to intentionally piss the other off so they would respond in a way that helped you find a reason to become angry.

But sometimes he thought it didn’t matter what they said or did because some stories aren’t done until they are finished.

Because you could send her a crude note and remind her of things you had done and ask for the same special treatment because you figured she would be offended by your words.

Except the thing was you knew that she could be just as crude as you and that sometimes she appreciated such a thing. That as much as she loved being romanced she wanted to just be taken and told what to do.

And then you’d realize your head was spinning because you had talked yourself into doing something and then out of it because the reasons why it made sense didn’t really work.

Up was down and inside was out and fear was master.

Fear that she would say no and fear that she would say yes.

And then your reflection would taunt you with:

“you really are fucked. If you said the right thing she would respond as you wish but you’ll never figure it out and thus you’ll never get closure. Never know if you were right or find out that you were wrong but take solace in knowing what you needed to know.”

“Go fuck yourself” would fly from your lips with enough venom and irritation to kill a legion and you’d go to the gym.

Everything was twice as hard as it needed to be and that was frustrating, but somewhere in the echoes of your mind you’d feel a soft touch and hear a soft voice and the anger would drain.

You never tried to find the source or figure out whose voice it was because it was enough to know that this moment would pass and eventually you’d find that place and inner peace again.

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Asking For Help

He closed his eyes and looked for that place we think of us as our center and focused on clearing his mind.

Need and want pushed him to be as certain as possible that he determine what was going on so that he could make a good decision.

That wasn’t going to be easy because he wanted to know exactly what would happen if he went forward, sideways, up, down or diagonal.

Didn’t matter that he knew what he sought was impossible because he still wanted it, but he was practical enough to understand it wouldn’t happen.

The best he could do was make an informed decision and just roll with it.

Might be time to ask for help, if you can’t answer all of the questions because you are too new to know who, how or where to go/ask…

Was it pride or ego holding things up or something else…

Eyes closed, he searched and searched and searched.

Eventually he thought he heard or felt something that sounded like an answer and went to find out.

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Was listening to some songs and thinking about how sometimes we hurt those we care the most about and how it just happens.

Just happens sounds so cavalier and unfeeling but sometimes it is the most accurate description of how some things happen.

It is not because of intent or any sort of desire that it takes place but because life places us in untenable positions and we are fallible creatures who find our best isn’t always enough.

And sometimes when we hurt each other we hold onto the hurt not because we want to but because we don’t know how to have to the conversation we want to.

Sometimes the conversation is stalled because we fear hurting the other person and sometimes it is because we fear to acknowledge our own feelings.

Because sometimes we hide from a reality that we know will force us to make hard choices that send our worlds spinning.

Yet there comes a time when we have to reach out and say we are sorry for it all. That we want to take away the hurt and the pain but can’t change the past. We can only go forwards and do our best not to repeat things.

That we would take their hand and look them in the eye while we said it if we could. We’d give them a big hug and move on into the future.

Sometimes that happens.

Sometimes life makes room for opportunities such as this and sometimes we make room for opportunities.

Anyway, I am sorry for the pain. I am sorry for any mistrust. I am just sorry.

Don’t know what comes next if anything, but couldn’t consider it without apologizing.

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Not Bad

Kind of catchy

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Song Sung Two

Someone asked him what his plan was and how he could hope to execute such a thing.

He shook his head and said he had no idea what he was doing and called it a Song Sung Two.

Sometimes people sing a song only they can hear and if they are lucky their solos intersect with a chorus that brings them back together.

Maybe that sounded stupid and ridiculous, he wasn’t certain of anything than he had lived in the land of stupidity for an age.

Broken hearts and shattered dreams were all around but so were islands of hope and opportunity.

Places that weren’t mirages, but an oasis upon which love lived or so he had heard.

After all this time who knew what was real and what was fake. It was all inside out and upside down to him.

A giant spinning top he hoped would deposit him somewhere favorable and not leave him sprawled face down on the cement.

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