lbd’s

lbd. saturdays

when sundays became mondays the world almost died of a heart attack. thank goodness our hair and air were fully conditioned. i wanted to stretch saturday and shake it out, but it was rigid as glass. by wednesday we were a distant memory with no return in sight. i would have to sweeten you up with something to get close again. how about a stringy lbd in an underachieving post? must i sing a song?
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when pennies were copper

mag wheels for eyes
roll out in silent film
silver screen dyes

down walkways
floorlit and salted
and buttered with
scenes

of someone else’s storied
childhood

long legs falling in love
with strapping lads on streets
paved flat by
pennies

land without
cell phones

a sunday. 1955
a city. 1959

when churches were
sanctuaries

mark the time
by the bells and
the sun

we rest on
bloody knees

the automobile
extinct

home. 1936
the sky. 1910

the pool
1920 and two metres
deep

the denim
1969. when pennies
were copper

the board
she saw better
days

cut elbows
in ink

porcelain cheap
for the poor

inscripted
the names
in powder blue
soap

sliding down rails
to the subway

we saw better
days

laughter echoes

a certain
despair

– KatYa, July’17

strikes

made my strikes

I went bowling over the weekend and made my strikes… we had nothing left to spare. I dropped some van halen on the ears and a ten pound marble on wax floors, and that puppy found its way to the void and disappeared, taking a whole lotta sticks with it to the hereafter. My form wasn’t very good and gosh, I didn’t care about the arrows or the baseball game or the scorecard on the screen next to it. All I cared about was turning around to look you in the eyes and know you loved me.

letter

one lonely night ona

edge ina pool
of light

inscribed by hand
taken from the scene
collected bya squeeze
ofa heart
folded in thirds
double encrypted
inaccessible to all
but one
like pores
touched by witch
hazel
ona edge
ina pool
of light
one candle
 night
kept
 from a
world and
given
you

– KatYa

harmless

i am not out to get anyone and i doubt i am so important that anyone would be out to get me either. i get upset and jaded and rebellious and depressed and lethargic and dramatic and hyper and childish as much as anyone. i get outta bed and clean myself up and make me some breakfast and coffee, and head out to work my ass off everyday just like anyone tryin to get by in this crazy world. i have trauma in my past which reaches out to grab me, too. i have good memories of being a carefree kid and am grateful to my family for all they did to raise me right. i went a little sideways, sure. who didn’t? i have my moments i feel elated and free and my spirit is strong these days. but i still make mistakes like anyone, i have my pitfalls. believe me, i mean no harm. i’m not out to cause anyone pain, and i don’t really subscribe to the idea that other people are the cause of my pain. well, maybe sometimes i feel that way. but at my best, i know my pain is my pain, and no one else can really be to blame. not my mom, not my dad, not my friend, not my enemy, not my brother, not my sister, and not even god.