Girlbysea came into my life,
Cooled me out ended my strife.
Our sweet lovemaking is only outdone,
By walking her beach under the sun.
She can’t cook, but boy can she clean,
And, strange as it seems, thinks I am keen.
Footrubs and back rubs, silver chains a delight,
Watching my re-runs night after night.
Cooking sans fat, I always take care.
Compliments a plenty on her short blondish hair.
My chauffeur in mornings, my masseuse at night,
I can’t beat the chick who thinks that I’m “tight!”
Those long good-bye kisses as I head to sea,
Get me through the long nights admirably.
No gift I’d love more if it fell from above,
'Cept my sweet, sweet GBS and all of her love.
In a fashion somewhat atypical of an English major, I’m going to admit that my words fall woefully short, and will brutally plagiarize someone else in order to get my point across.
Y’all know who this one’s for.
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
e. e. cummings
“Buffalo Bills? Oh, yeah. The guys that always snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.” --WallyM7
You know that poem that Drain printed above? The one about carrying your heart?
Well, I carry it with me always. A copy she printed for me is in my wallet. The edges are ripped, and it was ripped on the edges of her sink when I was there.
So I carry the heart-carrying poem always. Better, every day, I read it. Better yet, every day, I live it.
The sky is heavy
and the road is wet
it glistens in the night
like a lit cigarette,
I got a dollar in my pocket
how much you want to bet
that you ain’t thinkin’ 'bout me.
There were good times
and bad times
and something in between,
and for awhile you were the best thing
that I’d ever seen
then one day, don’t know why, you up and turned mean,
and you ain’t thinkin’ 'bout me.
I wish I had a headache
I wish I had the flu
or somebody or something else,
or something else to do,
because the last thing I want
is to be thinkin’ ‘bout you
when you ain’t thinkin’ bout me
no you ain’t thinkin’ 'bout me
anymore
Deborah was a Catholic girl
She held out to the bitter end
Karla was a different type
She’s the one who put it in
Mary was a black girl
And I was afraid of a girl like that
Susan painted pictured
Sitting down like the Buddha sat
Rena was an aimless girl
A geographic memory
Kathy was a Jesus freak
She liked that kind of misery
Vicki had that special way
Of turning sex into a song
Carmela, who couldn’t sing
Kept the beat, kept it strong
Zilla was an archetype
The voodoo queen, the queen of wrath
Joan thought men were second best
At masterbating in the bath
Sheri was a feminist
She really had that gift of gab
Kathleen’s point of view was this:
Take whatever you can grab
Seattle was another girl
Who left her mark upon the map
Karen liked to tie me up
And left me hanging by a strap
Jeanie had this night-club walk
That made grown men feel underage
Maryella, who had a son
Said I must go, but finally stayed
Mina, the last taboo
Was shattered by her tongue one night
Mimi brought the taboo back
Held it up before the light
Marylin, who knew no shame
Was never, ever satisfied
Julie came and went so fast
She didn’t even say goodbye
Rhonda had a house in Venice
Lived on brown rice and cocaine
Patty had a house in Huston
Shot cough syrup in her veins
Linda thought her life was empty
Filled it up with alcohol
Kathryn was much too pretty
She didn’t do that shit at all
Uh uh. Not Kathryn
Pauline thought that love was simple
Turn it on and turn it off
Jean-Marie was complicated
Like some French film-maker’s plot
Gina was a perfect lady
Always kept her stockings straight
Jackie was a rich punk rocker
Silver spoon and a paper plate
Sarah was a modern dancer
Lean pristene transparency
Janet wrote bad poetry
With a crazt kind of urgency
Tonya, Turkish liked to fuck
While wearing leather biker boots
Brenda’s strange obsession was
Her certain vegetables and fruit
Roweena was an artist’s daughter
The deeper image shook her up
Didi’s mother left her father
Took his money and his truck
Debbie Rey had no such problems
Perfect Norman Rockwell home
Dina, 16, had a baby
Left her parents, lived alone
Bobbie joined a new wave band
Changed her name to Bobby Socks
Eloise, who played guitar
Sang songs about whales and cocks
Terry didn’t give a shit
Was just a nihilist
Ronnie was much more my style cause
She wrote song just like this
Jezebel went 40 days
Drinking nothing but Pierre
Dinah drove her Chevrolet
Into the San Fransisco Bay
Judy came from Ohio
She’s a Scientologist
Amarante, here’s a kiss
I chose you to end this list
—88 Lines About 44 Women
The Nails
“I should not take bribes and Minister Bal Bahadur KC should not do so either. But if clerks take a bribe of Rs 50-60 after a hard day’s work, it is not an issue.” ----Krishna Prasad Bhattarai, Current Prime Minister of Nepal
you guys are a trip…lol. Wish I could fall in love as fast as some of you do. Or with the type of people that you do. Maybe one day. At any rate…not talking about the same kind of love…but the friendship kind…CanadianSue is about the best buddy a person can have. Her phone line is never busy and she never tells you what an idiot you are…even though you already know. So my love in friendship would be my buddy…CanadianSue. She is the kind of friend that is true to the end…and I’ve literally seen people that were supposed to be her “friends” cut her literally to her soul and yet although they will never be close to her again, she still allows them a small part of her life because that’s just the kind of person she is. Toast to you Sue.
I love me, I love me,
I’m wild about myself!
I love me, I love me—
My picture’s on my shelf!
You may not think I look so good—
But me thinks I’m just fine;
It’s grand when I look in my eyes
And know that I’m all mine!
I love me, I love me,
And my love doesn’t bore—
Day by day in every way
I love me more and more!
I take me to a quiet place,
I put my arm around my waist—
If me gets fresh, I slaps my face—
I’m wild about myself!
Why my dear Vickie, you have come out of the closet. Thank you for your sweet words, you know I feel the same way. I am very blessed with the friends I have. And altho I dont cuddle up with any of you at night, you know I wuv ya.
We are, each of us angels with only one wing,and we can only fly by embracing one another
lol…I’m not sure what you mean by “coming out of the closet” my friend…I’m not gay or anything…but I am proud to have you as a friend…and I do protect my privacy and always will…big hug
it is hard for me to articulate something that is not painful during this time which is supposed to be so happy, with people gushing and lovely to one another. Valentine’s is not my favourite day, though I’ve often wished otherwise.
but for all those who have come into my life, for them during this time:
I wanted to change your world, universe, life
Instead of merely hesitantly touching it
With shy glances and roaming hands.
I am a fire whose flames lick and spit at the boundless sky forever desiring wonderous consummation
-me
