Waking Up to Fever Ray

My heart beats for the trees outside,
for sacred naked blurried waves on the sheets,
for an occasional friend, and friends, and the right attitude to enjoy them.
for Leiv Schreiber and the Phantom of the Opera,
for high heels, dark eyes, and big messy pastey hair that swings,
for cigarettes, I pine!  I'm an addict already. They make me high.
for camping to come, and small touches from people I love.
for one particular memory which I will keep to myself. ; )
for my own breasts, and for the edge of your chin,
for writing, and for the dreams I have each night that are so vivid and convincing.

And these imaginary clouds that surround my head today soothe my wounds,
and through their mists, I hear the quiet spray that says,
"It's all gonna be Ok."

Small Town Plays

 

They see actors, yessssss
Acting out characters they met
Many times before. They've seen
Scrooge, and Wendy's rubied toes,
They recognize clearly the little
orphan Annie, Anne Frank, 
 Romeo and Cinderella.

They see actors, yessssss
But actors they've seen before
Seen play the Panthers on the court last week
Seen grow from 3 foot 4 to 6 foot 3
From chests flat to biblical curves
From boys and girls climbing trees
To climbing the seats in backs of cars
And corners of basements.


And the actors perform for their audience, yesss....
An audience that's dark against the hot
spotlights in their eyes, mere shadows,
bespectacled, glaring back at them in
anticipation, emotions ready for whatever
the commanding actors demand of them,
strangers in a strange sea of seats.


The actors perform for that audience, yessss....
But an audience they've seen before,
Seen shake their hand after they beat the Panthers,
Seen drive them around and package them lunches,
Seen grow from blonde to brown to cinnaberry,
From fit to fat, from smooth to wrinkles.
From worrying about the heights of trees
To the depths of seats in backs of cars
And basements.