Sorry to be out of the loop and I’m not even putting up any holiday decorations which is a first for me. I’ve been ill and it’s taking me a long time and a few docs to find what is wrong, and more medicine to fight it. But it’s going down!💪🏻
The final symptom is somehow my right arm, neck and shoulder feel like a pulled muscle which makes doing anything painful. And I found out you can go six days only sipping water and live—you just don’t feel like you are😄.
Last doc on Wednesday with new antibiotics seems to be helping but I can’t think of using an aching head to read/write anything. Maybe this weekend?
I felt like an old piece of driftwood, a nene floating on the surf in abandon, waves clutching at the overused edges of my mind. Hawaii’s orange sunset glow didn’t touch the chill I felt, will always feel, with loss of her presence.
I tried to pose a confident swagger, but have no propinquity of that persona. I was trying to impress her of course, but that all failed as I walked nearer her. The bikini, barely there, only covering a small portion of well rounded breasts, and her skin, a smooth dark chocolate brown that made your mouth start to water. She was a vision of temptation and as I passed by, a scent of coconut oil emanated from her, furthering my appetite.
I would say I was quickly and completely mesmerized by her brief presence, almost bewitched. I made my way down to the sand and set up my blanket and chair, thermos of cold tea, and tried to do what I intended from the start–relax, forget all worldly things for a few days, and get myself sorted out. Of course that was never going to be accomplished now.
Her vision penetrated my mind as a sempiternal dream, escalating into obsession. I could not stop thinking about her, how it would be to envelop her in my arms and taste that chocolate skin. That evening I found myself searching the local establishments, desperate to see her again. I asked around, with no luck. After a fitful attempt at sleep I decided to peruse the boardwalk again, hoping to see her again, only this time, I would not just pass by.
It was Saturday and the walk was busier, crowded, but I did not give up. It was almost as if I was under a spell, I had to see her again. As I was about to take my gear back down to the beach, I caught a glimpse of her. She was walking towards me. I was frozen, unsure of what to do, how to approach her. I couldn’t just blurt out how I felt, how much I wanted her, to touch her, devour her. It didn’t occur to me that possibly she felt the attraction, that she might be looking for me, but she smiled when she saw me, and seemed to slow her pace. I put the gear down and walked unsteadily in her direction. I had no idea what I was going to say or do, but I was going to do something.
She was wearing a long multicolored scarf, covering her shoulders and flowing over those beautiful hidden parts under her bikini, and as she neared, it fell to the walk. I nearly lost my footing as I scooped it up. She turned to face me. Did she drop it on purpose? This is how a besotted mind works: she dropped it intentionally for a chance to stop and meet me.
My dreamed vision suddenly dimmed as she looked at me, crushing me with a scowl. “What do you think you’re doing? Give that back to me!” My imagined delight of meeting her dissolved into a salty puddle as she grabbed the scarf, turned and walked away. The chocolate left a bitter and sugarless taste in my mouth as I picked up my gear and walked down to the sand. Slumping into the beach chair, I motioned for the cabana boy to bring me a double.
Purging a memory to some may seem pleasant For myself then, why choose to descend Into the abyss of unforgotten encounters My recollections are not so numerous Hidden away in a chest of old words Taken out briefly like some potent herbs That flavor too strongly my dreams or wishes Ending up in too saporous dishes Enjoyed for the minute and regretted later Easing too easily into the cater Of lamentation, sorrow or grief The words’ impact cause no relief But disrupt the present norm One it is too late to reform I won’t take the time or the chance To relive those moments of a wished loving dance It is too painful, hard to accept In ways of love, completely inept Romance expected and never lived Notions of what I wanted to give Words stored in the chest I didn’t receive Only in dreams now conceived— I don’t want to open that book, but let him look.
“Great, here he comes again, asking to use my internet!” “Hey Joe, did you rev up the dish yet? You know Luca Doncic’s playing tomorrow! We all want to see it and I mean the whole building!” “I can’t fit the whole building in my apartment! When are you guys going to stop being cheapskates and get your own services?”
A short tale shall be had, of pretensed happiness of trial and success. The echo of sorrow began to tire as the weird tale so dire was presented at the village court based on the reply of a false death report. Why the wording had been misconstrued was yet to be found and continued to elude, the judge, who decided to rule failing to find facts presented true.
I think that I shall never see as delightful a sight as goats in a tree. I knew their well hewn feet were fine but never thought a tree they’d climb. It must have been a toothsome treat that caused them all to retreat into the tree limbs up above; perhaps t’was the crunchy leaves they love.
The 24 Seasons Syllabic Poetry challenge invites participants to write a poem using a Kigo word or phrase, distinct to the current season, Heavy Snow (December 7 – 20).
The Bag Lady 
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