friendship

friendship.
i’ve never been good at it.
oh hi, i’m me,
what’s your name?
you like this?
i like it too; let’s be
friends.
it’s funny –
(or tragic. i haven’t decided yet -)
but i can’t remember how i
first made friends.
of course, it
doesn’t help
(not one tiny bit)
that those people are,
for the most part,
not in my life anymore.
one due to simply drifting
apart, time taking its toll
(probably long overdue and the
hand was forced
(hers not mine)
but still).
another due to so many
factors
(wedding disaster the first
and
foremost).
but it doesn’t help
when i see others –
with so many friends.
why did i not retain
those special, treasured bonds,
from high school,
from college,
from sports teams,
from … everything?
i know
(oh trust me i know)
i’m not the most
open, or
engaging, and god knows i’m
awkward as hell.
but damnit,
i miss having someone
that i can call up and say
hi, let’s hang out,
you come here
or i’ll go there.
without four months of
phone tag, or
meaning to call
(likelier text)
and forgetting.
i don’t know how to be
girly, yet i want a
girls night,
someone to laugh with,
cry with,
share with.
acquaintances?
those i’ve got.
but a friend –
a true, honest-to-goodness
bff –
i’d love one.
please.
tell me how to make one.
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friendship, 2.4.19

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the ghosts of winter

as i run down the snowy path
in the quiet of the falling snow,
i encounter no one
save the ghosts of winter.
they are benevolent spirits,
enjoying the stillness and the emptiness
which i in my own way am
disturbing.
but as long as i make no sound –
save for the inhale exhale inhale exhale
exertion from the run –
they will not disturb me any more
than i disturb them.
i run back home,
the only footsteps in the snow my own,
but i know i’m not alone.
for while the ghosts leave no trace,
you feel their comforting presence.
they are there,
in the whispers of the wind,
and in the snow taking care to cover
the memories of me,
soon to be forgotten, not unlike
the spirits themselves.
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the ghosts of winter, 1.12.19

#Rocktober

it’s hard,
so hard,
to be a fan, love a team.
i did it once,
and was rewarded. (2001)*
i did it again, and had
another payoff … after i thought the
fire had been mostly extinguished. (2009)**
then the fanaticism
(in its literal sense)
slowly trickled away,
laying mostly dormant, save a few
wondrous
terrible
tumultuous times of year.
something lit the fire again,
awoke the beast,
(pick your cliche)
i think last year,
(maybe ’07 if we’re being historically accurate)
but
this year
it’s different.
this year,
it’s changed –
i’ve changed –
and i’m not sure why.
and i don’t know if my heart
can take
the rollercoaster ride again.
but maybe I’ll go,
take my dramamine and hop back aboard,
for this,
(playoff) Sports,
is what can keep us young.
.
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.
#Rocktober, 10.2.2018

* 2001 – Colorado Avalanche, Stanley Cup Champions.
** 2009, BU Hockey, NCAA Ice Hockey Champions.

Apprehension

I, I can do this.

Head down, a sigh, shoulders slumped.

Maybe I can’t.

A glance out across the water. Calm, still; nothing like the churning battle going on inside. At least the vista was pretty. The sunrises were always pretty magnificent this time of year.

A breath in, then out. A breath in, another out. Eyes closed.

Eyes open. The sun just beginning to crest the horizon. Other people were milling about, creeping toward the shoreline, jostling for position.

Cold toes, then calves, then waist. Shoulders bump with other competitors, elbows knocking as goggles get adjusted.

Inhale. Exhale.

Don’t think, just do.

A horn sounds. Splashing commences. Muscle memory kicks in. The race begins.
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Apprehension, 6.20.18. A vignette.

Audacity

“… but what about our plans? hadn’t we finally gotten reservations for brunch?” “oh, right. well, take one of your friends. Daniela, right? she’s been raving about it for ages. she’ll appreciate it more than I would anyway.” “well, yes, she has … as a perfectly romantic spot to take a lover. a significant other. which I thought I was but clearly not. clearly I’m just … just … an INSIGNIFICANT other.” “darling, I never meant for it to be like this …” “oh spare me the bullshit. I should have known you were only interested in the sex, and the illusion of being rich and well-known and famous and well I know I don’t have the perfect body I thought it didn’t matter as much since we actually seemed to be able to converse but no, you found Magdalena, with her magazine-perfect body and clearly fake tits who just by showing up can get in anywhere because your gender is the weakest pile of fucking shit out there.” “… are you done?” “yes. now pack up your shit and get the fuck out of my life.” “if you insist. again, I truly am sorry about everything.” “whatever, sure.” “just … one more thing?” “… what?” “well, erm, if you aren’t going to use the brunch reservations, might I have them for Mags and I?” “… the fuck?”
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Audacity, 2.26.18. A vignette.