Undertaker and other thoughts

Oh, love is so good when you're treated like you should be
The sky goes on forever in a symphony of song
And how water can flow like it's streaming out of fountains
And all you gotta do is find a sword and a stone

And how it takes on the night like birds of paradise
Like way down in pollyanna where the race runs wild

Oh, but if you're gonna leave, better call the undertaker
Take me under, undertaker
Take me home

Oh, just place me in a box and fasten all the locks
and with a one-two throw me over the bay side bridge


And so it goes.... and now mine:

I saw newly paved streets of deep, perfect black outlined with white on all sides,
the houses neatly framed in brick,
pristine in line and form.
I thought that
for an instant they had been designed
for the blizzard
the newly fallen snow.

It is always nice to leave your usual place to see something that changes your perspective on things.


This was one of those weekends for me.



Take back the lack of depth,

immerse oneself in the waters of snow or baptism

I'm glad to be alone.

I wrap the down blanket around my shoulders

and smile myself to sleep.


Monday morning.
My back aches from the constant lifting and moving
she kills me and doesn't know it.
I woke with black clouds and they linger at the temples and between my eyebrows.

It was the weekend that did it to me. Again, trying to play a role set out at birth--this girl, this woman, this daughter, this mother, this sister, this lover, this friend.. this person isn't me.

Not sure if it is the rejection, or the constant unablilty to match up with the expectations. I overheard my father boast about the couples getaway, talking in twos to married members. I, to the Catholic others--even my MS Lutheran parents, am cast out. I see them judging me--their eyes booring through me.

Our conversations are so banal. Nothing is ever said that means anything.
How I long for a real conversation. Ho I long to meet a real person that isn't hiding something or judging or has a hidden agenda. I stare blankly as the hours pass. Waiting for escape.
How freeing it would be to explore the depths of someone, to be vulnerable with another knowing they wouldn't disappear. But they always do.
Go back to that place again and again.
And every time it is the same. I hate myself for going back.

I visualize
myself in a pool of water flowing
a shallow ceiling allows for the echos and sounds of splashing in distant corners

the water is soothing and warm
like blood flowing

I close my eyes and inhail
the murky smells
slip under the water
my hair standing out around my face

slipping further under
I am free