I Danced like the Devil

I had some unanswered questions about an affair I had last year. In my head I'd left it vaguely lovely, beautiful, a special bubble of him and me against the world.

I crushed that dream and now I know I will never go back. Not just to him, but to people who don't give a fuck, much less about me. No judgement, no opposition, just basic acknowledgment that somewhere along the line I became valuable.

I found my way to an old friend's apartment in the city and let myself in with the keys he gave me years ago. I undressed, pulled on pajamas and blankets, and fell asleep waiting for him to come home. He came in turned on the heater and tucked me in for the night. We talked a little but mostly we don't need words to clarify things.

I find love everywhere and nowhere. My heart is full; I am so broke; my birthday is moments away; I am free.

Hot to Trot

It happened— out of air and dust came a wedding with 56 adults and three kids from across the country to watch two friends do that thing. It wasn't horrible; I heard it was the best wedding most people have ever been to. It may have been the lights in the barn aisle, or the mandolin player, or the arbor; most likely it was the combination of sweat and tears that soaked the three weeks of planning that went into pulling off that event.

It was far from horrible.

So, then, why do I feel empty, hollow, vacant. More and more I know that I am cut from a cloth that doesn't match. The eclipsing wave of satisfaction has passed and whatever I forgot to remember I buried in two bottles of champagne while cleaning up the wreckage.

fade into me

I am on a real kick these days. February did its worst by throwing three new gigs at me; February wins, I spin.

One of my new jobs is wedding coordinator for two of my best friends. For the record, planning a wedding for 60 in three weeks is a monumental task, especially when I have never planned anything for anyone ever.

I am losing sleep and hair and gaining weight. None of those are good.

The balance of the equinox is almost upon us and I hope the cycle of renewed focus lends the gifts of clarity, vision, and humor to my life.

More than all of this external hubbub has been self-reflection. Seeing myself as a competent qualified adult is a hard won battle for me; I struggle continuously with ideas about relationships, morality, dedication, and the pursuit of happiness. I am alone, but not lonely.

From my youngest sister I feel the transformative power of unconditional love.

Pass the Salt

Brine—anchovies taste of the sea

awake at dawn before the birds
after sleeping fitfully wondering if my beloveds are safe
(she, young and willful, crept in just after six, shoes off, was almost silent)

I am not one to postpone happiness
or hinge satisfaction against the threat of a postponed tomorrow

back to stranger's arms

Strike the Record

I am in rough shape these days
edges fray
and the loose shape of my being shadow shape shifts

I am a lot of things
but mostly I see nothing inside
to hold

I want a kite
and a thunderstorm
and a new lipstick

but mostly
I want all of the people I've loved
even a little

to know that I remember
more than I forget
and that my voice may be broken

reflecting
holiday cheerfulness