Love Letter to a Poet

The Guardian, Centurion, the Gestapo of my heart. She inspects all, she watches all, and rarely allows anyone to tread across the front lawn of my Heart's Home. Her ego is slightly bruised because you snuck in when she was digging thru her purse for that ever elusive cigarette lighter.

My Heart sits in her lovely home waiting, knowing there is someone out there capable of touching her soul. Someone not afraid to dive into her world head first, undeterred, un-intimidated.

She hides scars, defects, the ugly parts, in a closet at the back of the laundry room. That dark cold room where you usually keep ancient linens and last year’s Christmas napkins. The people who come in and out of this home are sorely disappointed when they find this room, as though it were placed there conspiratorially and deceptively by The Gestapo of My Heart. It is always there, you pass it every time you go into the Laundry Room, which is often in a home like this one. Why would it be necessary to point out the obvious? My heart has better things to ponder, like how to replicate the brown of your eyes into a marvelous and lustrous paint, and what could she use that paint on?

She has no use for telling you that there is a small but significant twist to the Laundry Room Door, because you already know the trick to opening the door carefully, and it would only insult your intelligence and bruise your ego. Besides which she wants to know what you think about when you are pondering pansies. (The flowers not the weaklings.) She's far too busy remembering the time she listened to you breathe in the pre-dawn hours of a misty morning in Spring.

It scares me that my heart actually considers examining these things about you. The Guardian is frantically pacing the perimeter, chain smoking and wringing hands. These emotions float by, and I know from experience that you will vanish into the abyss just as miraculously as you surfaced.

Twice I have loved unconditionally, and twice I was rejected. Twice I gave up my self in the name of financial security and twice I walked away in search of soul nourishment.

Ahead of All Parting. That's the name of my favorite works on Rilke. I wonder sometimes if anyone reading that title can appreciate what it really means, what it could mean contextually. I have stayed well ahead of all my partings. I've been the rejecter before being rejected.   I've strived to no avail to be - to live up to the image he has of me, he had of me, they want of me. I have learned that remaining true to my heart, my soul, my self, always results in rejection.

I simply will not give up me to be loved by you. And so I stay ahead of the parting. We forever sit on the front porch, you forever sit on the front porch, never entering even the living room.

It has officially taken me 2 and one quarter hours to write this. How you make me struggle. How the Centurion baits me with distractions, tossing a lyric here, an image there. Any thing to stop the words from bleeding out of my mind.

The unconscious things I do ..... the subconscious decisions I make ...... all designed to steer you gently away from this house, this porch, this woman ..... are completely and utterly lost, because you silently step over them or around them. You made eye contact with the girl in the house, for just a brief moment, but long enough for her to see you ....

........ to see you.

It is not fear when I refuse to feel afraid. Does it not then follow that it is not love if I refuse to feel? And how long could I keep that charade going? Would hours bleed into weeks bleed into years ....... or does the bleeding eventually stop and I am forced to accept my fate.

I don't want somewhere to run to
I don't want somebody I can shake
Lord I want my dignity again
Before I walk on fire
You gotta look me in the face

I won't flinch
And I won't turn away

I admit I am afraid. I am scared. When one is counting days, how many is enough to say Yes?

You asked WHY?

Because I need to feel, I need someone to see me. Because I need to know that the worst pain I could ever feel is behind me, beyond me, and will never define me.

Fresh Air and Spring Flowers

March 2004

10 Things I Like About Him

He is much smarter than he pretends to be

He has nice hands

He appreciates clever alliteration

He casually drops dead-pan puns

He drinks scotch (yes, I noticed)

He's tall

He's a gentleman

He asked before he kissed me

He looks great in a hat

He appreciates “Happy Pants”

Soooooooooo, I could probably make time in my schedule to see him again; reschedule this meeting, cancel that appointment, etc, etc, etc

And the technology thing is ok.... my girlfriend broke out in a rash when her husband hooked up cable, developed hives when he installed DSL - she HATES technology!!  LOL

I’m going to stop talking now and hit the "send" button

March 2004

Raccoons - January 2005

Last night at about 2am, my dog Archie went ballistic with "securing the perimeter".  He dove off the bed and charged the balcony, prudently stopping at the thresh hold to wait for mom to "come get it!"  I live in a "tree house" of sorts, upstairs and surrounded on 2 sides by large mature leafy trees.  I thought I was chasing off a cat.  It came back.  I thought it was a possum, so I took the broom to it and chased it down the sidewalk.

Third time at the balcony with Archie going nuts, I look out the patio door and a masked creature stared back at me defiantly.  I ran around the house in a panic, closing doors, and windows and realized *that* activity was pointless, little buggers can open doors.  I went to the balcony and watched as not one raccoon, but 2, slowly and calmly climbed down the stairs.  I decided to reason with them.  "I live here," I said, "this is my house.  You can go live in the back yard.  There are plenty of bushes and trees back there, go make a nice den.  But this is my house and you can't live here."  Amazingly they went to the back yard.

About 20 minutes later I hear them crashing about in the back yard.  They knocked something over and probably scared themselves silly.  It got quiet immediately, nevertheless.  Within a few minutes, I hear one of them.  She parked herself under my bedroom window and chirruped, incessantly.  So I got up and went to the balcony.  The male, at least 20lbs, very large, very fluffy and a dark grey coat with a perfectly ringed tail and gorgeous black mask is looking up at me from the mid-point of the tree at my balcony.  We are literally eye to eye.   She is chirruping and scuttling down the side of the apartment and rounds the corner, looks up at me, puts her hands in front of her and chirrups at me!  She is about 15lbs, beautiful light grey coat, and the sides of her belly are plump and oddly shaped.  This kid is ready to pop!  Her tail has perfect rings and her mask is just as gorgeous but it's a bit spottled and striped at the edges.  He slowly climbs down to the ground and walks over to sit by her.  They mill around on the entry and then he jumps 4 feet straight up, and on to the entry ledge, and looks up at me.

So I say, "fine stay here but you can't come inside."  I go back to bed.  Within a few minutes the chirruping starts beneath my window.  I get up and this time he is sitting on the front steps and she is peaking around the corner.  At this point I realize that unless I give them something, this is going to go on all night!

I do the worst thing imaginable and the number one thing against the rules of interacting with Urban Wildlife - I give them a plate of dog kibble.  At first I threw a handful down to see if they would even eat it.... I mean why waste perfectly good dog kibble right?  Well they scarffed it up.  So I went down and put the plate on the steps.  By the time I got back up to the balcony to watch them they were sitting around the plate feasting.  They ate for about 10 minutes, or half the plate, they milled around.

I heard chirruping from the front sidewalk so I go to the front wall of the patio and look down:  She is sitting on one of the rocks in the front garden sitting on her haunches looking up at me.  Her hands are in front of her and clasped.  She tosses her head this way and that, and the male walked up behind her in the low plants and off they went.  I guess they were just "passing through".  She knew I'd give her food if she asked clearly, it just took her several tries!  Tenacious little devil! I'm sure they will be back at some point.  Probably with the entire family!   And yes, I will do the dumb thing and feed them.  What?  I'm going to let a Raccoon go hungry?