Flower Power

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Yesterday, my boss gave me these:


.hand-picked from his garden.


I really don't like flowers.


But I like these.


They're called Dahlia's.


Like my mom.


Delia.


She adores The Color Purple.


They remind me of her.


Thanks BO'C. My desk now looks as though it's being inhabited by a human being.


BOMPF*

.Dirty.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

I’m itchy. I just took a shower but your remnants...remain. I can smell the residue that stained my dress on the tip of my collar. Looking past it.

.12:37.

I notice the time. Ante Meridiem. Perhaps there’s a wrinkle. It was a dark and stormy night. The phone lines are down and the power is out. The only light is that of the dial pad, but no matter how much you punch those 10 digits. No dial tone. No ring. Flat line. Like death. But. Wait. You have no home phone; you have no land line. Maybe I should call AT&T, see if lightning is causing a problem with the wireless service. But. Wait. Rain in the East don’t necessarily make rain in the West. Unless there’s a monsoon and you’ve been washed away. In current that carried you through New Mexico, Texas, and into the Gulf. Were you trying to find your way back to me?

Shhh. I think you’ve arrived. There’s a tap at my window. Shh.

You see I just can’t sleep without the sound of your voice. Without at least a goodnight, I’ll talk to you in the morning. A goodnight text will even do. Or else I’ll wake up in a few hours when my mind realizes it hadn’t registered that deep rasp, then a clear of the throat. Or the sipping through the straw; your sweet snore.

No. It’s just a good ol’ Nor’easter. Hurricane season on the east coast.

I’m itchy. You’ve entered my skin. My pores, they wreak your sin.

.1:01.

I notice the time. Ante Meridiem.

BOMPF*