Evangelical

There is a man on my street corner,
holding papers that are
rolled into a cone
to yell his words so I can hear.
I overslept.

Stranger On a Train Station

On the start of a brand new year,
we parted ways while old men had warm greetings.
I can't remember the taste of your lips
or the warmth of your tongue.
What I do remember is the way his shoes looked against day old snow
how their prints still held
the pure clay far beneath the snirt covered path,
how when his knees bent
and cracked against a warm wind,
how his face seemed as deep and understanding
of places that I've never seen.
He was the experiences of my dreams
in a stranger who didn't even notice me.

Self-Loathing

I can tell you one thing
the only thing,
that I'm ever certain of
is
uncertainty.
A horrible, trite irony
that never leaves my mind.

Underbelly

I can still remember everything
that I try to forget.
Kisses mean nothing
and october
with a toe-headed boy
who bent from the waist to
wind loops and frizz
until I'd cave.

I remember sliding
through ice and snow and frozen ground.
A wolf who held me hand.
Cushioned by passive voice,
critics who hulled idle hands in unison
while another was betrayed.

I remember a walk in a downpour
of conversation and condensation.
The shirts were peeling like paint,
a false modesty, inching closer
to only wake up and discuss
the weather
and a love for a good dark roast.

I remember my drunk who made claims,
took my hand under flying diamonds and unlit chandeliers.
Exposed to what I had done
and who he wanted me to be.
Maybe, I did it all
Maybe, it was for myself.
These times that I could forget
or regret
but insist on remembering
and lamenting.
For some god forsaken reason.
I'll kill him yet with dulled senses and new experience.

They Were All Inside

IT is his last day
the places wait
along with iced planes
runways full of red lights
with blinking blue
under yellow haze of snow
rain
mixed with more
and more moisture.

IT is her last thought
while driving
across the bridge
with rails
like bicycle wheels
who spin
when she drives past.

IT was his and her but now
who knows.
His mind lays still on a
blank canvas
while hers contemplates
broken windows
cracked book covers
and a seldom seen sense.

No, I wouldn't

The pain of distance is not something I would wish on anyone,
even the most vile adversary to all that is good in the world.
The simplicity held within a momentary touch is too
precious a thing to withhold.
The beauty in the hot sticky warmth of someone
else breathing on your neck
while the wind keeps blowing,
the clouds move further north,
the sun moves just a bit closer,
and everything makes sense.

Of a Curious Sort

A greenness
that can only
be a
starry-eyed, yellow-bellied, blue-soled acquaintance.
Followed by the murmurous quiet
belayed intrusions
New English girls with
flaming crowns and
affectionate indications
gently glancing
the left stage of a mort
who tied herself to the
current of the sea
wrapped in screens
and incandescent candy foils.

Mom

Another Saturday in the world of a seven year old, finally free from all the stress the second grade classroom. I would grab the overstuffed green chair in our living room with s’mores pop-tarts, fresh from the toaster, and watch my Saturday morning line-up. It started off with Doug leading to Darkwing Duck and ending with Captain Planet. Feeling inspired by the environmental message of the Planeteers, I decided to wander outside to ride my bike. I grabbed my hand me down bike with the wobbly back wheel and began my adventure up and down the 64th block of Western Kildare Avenue.
My block doesn’t have many interesting features to it. It’s covered in bungalows with their eight by ten foot patches of grass for their front yard. There are a few trees scattered, one distinct elm at the south end and in the middle is a giant tree with tiny leaves that would follow me whenever I would ride past. One interesting feature of my block is the direction that it faces. There is Lee School, a public elementary school and then half of the block is just an empty field. For some reason the kids from the neighborhood would always seem to congregate there, even though there were four perfectly fine baseball fields at the park one block away. The game was always baseball but I could never join in since it wasn’t allowed for me to cross the street. So I would just sit and watch from my porch while my dog Barney would wander and sniff the grass in our front yard. But before I could hang out with the dog for the afternoon, I heard my name being called from across the street.
The most astonishing thing about it was who was calling my name. I screeched to a halt to see Mary Eileen Dalton (Marsie as her friends called her) to be waving at me. She was one of the prettiest, nicest, most popular girls in our whole second grade. It was a really big deal that she even knew my name. I would’ve given anything for her just to talk about me but here she was actually waving at me and talking to me. She told me to come join them to go sit and hang out. I didn’t even process what was going on because my feet took action for me. I think they were tired of spending their Saturdays doing nothing but riding up and down the block. I had barely crossed the street before I realized what I had done. I froze in horror at the screeching sound of my name from behind me.
“Maureen! Maureen Therese Foody!”
My Mom marched up to me, ignoring my silent pleading to have mercy on my social life. She snatched the handle of my bike and grasped my right shoulder. She dragged me back across the asphalt and back onto our bland eggshell covered sidewalk. She was lecturing me the whole time but I was elsewhere. I kept trying to glance back and see what was going on across the street. Were they watching me? Were they on the floor laughing at how pathetic I was? I couldn’t get a glimpse until we reached the top of the stairs at the platform of our stairs. They were all laughing. I would later learn that this was not because of my incident but at the very same time Kevin Schumacher split his pants, exposing his batman underoos for all to see. From then on his presence always greeted by a chorus of, “Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na, Batman!” But since I didn’t know this hilarity had occurred, I assumed everyone was laughing at me, forcing me to utter one single word.
“Damn.”
“MAUREEN!”