Where Ever You Are

by Craig Daniels on January 25, 2013

Yesterday I looked up from the stained
sidewalk to see your reflection in Macy’s
downtown window, your red hooded wool
cape tightly closed at the neck, your long
brown hair peeking out. I spun around,
hoping to catch you, hoping you’d catch me.

I guess I didn’t turn quickly enough.
You were gone, replaced by a group of
tourists gawking and mumbling about
transient matters, not noticing the
bewildered man in their midst.

Crossing the Third Avenue bridge, I
saw you in a cab by yourself. You looked
into my eyes as you passed, then turned
away without a smile. Was that really you?
Tell me that wasn’t you turning away.

In the park I saw you helping a little
girl fly her kite higher and higher. I rushed
to say I was sorry; I touched a shoulder that
wasn’t yours. “I’m so sorry, I thought you
were someone else,” I effused as I backpedaled
with my head down.

Last night without thinking I cooked
grilled cheese just the way you liked,
chopping fresh basil into a pool of olive oil,
pressing it into the tomato slices before
rolling it in grated cheese. You would mash
it all up on the plate, and eat it with a fork
and hug yourself between each bite.

The leaves turned yellow and crimson
on the Jersey Shore last weekend. I went
down to spend a couple of days with
Audrey. Remember how she used to flirt
with me when the three of us were together?
You’d feign jealousy, knowing all the while
I never noticed anyone but you. She flirted
with me again. I quickly looked for you to
admonish me, but you weren’t there. Maybe
I flirted back.

The snow will fall soon. Audrey has
already asked me to go with her to Stowe.
We used to go there, you and I, for long
weekends. Sometimes we never made it to
the slopes to ski. In front of the fireplace,
you’d play your guitar, singing silly love
songs while I kissed your neck and rubbed
your shoulders.

I lie awake at night remembering how
we’d fall asleep entangled in each other, our
legs twisting, arms roaming, fingers
exploring for the best place to rest. Our
breath and hearts synchronizing, tongues
darting in and out, licking the other’s face.
Always we tried to climb inside the other to
be safe, to be held, to be loved.

Some days go by and I have moments
when I don’t think about you, but they are so
very few. Where ever you are, I send my



Dark Metal Edges

by Craig Daniels on December 18, 2012


Dark metal edges welded together, endless flanges cutting my hands my knees as I crawl to to meet your demands. Hard surfaces surrounding me I can’t break though to you, I ask and ask the answer is always the same, be patient. Thorns of patience circle round my brow burrowing deeply beyond the blood.

I stand on a soap box open and vulnerable scanning the horizon looking at my emotional destruction telling you what I feel letting you know I’ve opened my self to be what you said you wanted me to be, vulnerable . The more I open my self the more you push me away. I fracture my feeling allowing pain, horror and suffering to pour out warmly like cum between my fingers hoping you’ll do the same, but you don’t.

Road signs freshly painted every day I travel going left then right watching out for pot holes that will break my heart. Surprised that avenues opened yesterday are today closed.

You can’t be afraid of me your in control, has my use my amusement worn out. Did my bending over disgust you, maybe I should have spit in your face, instead  I told you I liked you and you were silent.

My exit blocked once again because you changed the rules. Rules upon rules that only you know. Please cut a hole in this curving maze built upon your tears and fears from a life way before I appeared.

I’m not part of your past yet scorn is heaped up me, I open myself to receive your pain only to be told it’s not the time, not right now.

I can’t crawl out from beneath this hideous weight of sharing my naked self only to be all alone the same as I was when we started. In the beginning you told me I was one of many and I needed to give you what you wanted or I’d fall down the list, smiling I acquiesced thinking you played, but now I know you were serious. The rules keeping changing, stretching into grotesque reflections in cracked mirror barely readable even by the one who wrote them.

For a moment I’d forget who I was as I bent and slithered to meet your needs dancing as fast as I could hoping against hope I’d amuse you to distraction painting a smile upon your tortured self but it was not to be. I became but hallow and shadow like as I meandered through each day wait for you to acknowledge me waiting for you to smile in my direction.

Cut and bleeding through every pour yet once again I’m awake and remembering who I am. I’m awake and though I sit with broken heart I see a deep amusement growing within and with that I thank you for all I’m feeling from opening myself to you.



Yellow Grimace

May 21, 2011

Bright yellow mustard gurgled its way from within the yellow plastic bottle lightly icing then smothering the hot dogs plump brown skin with its yellow lava. Dante stared at the salty yellow mustard overflowing the buns edges beginning to cover his fingers, it was only then he stopped squeezing yellow plastic and took a bite [...]

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Wrap Up

March 4, 2011

In the midst of everything I was ignored. Daily I’d stand hand extended, the crowds hustling past shunning connection proffering false intimacy. Sullen and rejected I watched time accelerate, crowds thin and pass me by. My life never amounted to anything, it was a momentary swirl of occurrence with me standing alone upon high cliffs [...]

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Sentimental Desperation

February 16, 2011

I’m an interloper to everyday life, born into a forgotten neighborhood lying on the other side of the tracks. I’m among you, standing toed to your metal gates gazing up at life no longer expanding into possibilities, you know nothing of my existence, the possibility of me never intrudes upon your consciousness. Clanking metals resonate [...]

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Authentic Blue Lettering

February 2, 2011

Of the many vivid memories that help shape who I’ve become, it’s the memories from the dinner table which I cherish most, an eager little boy listening to everything embracing all that was said. I’d watch all the hands and mouths going about their joyful tasks imprinting it somewhere in memory. Bread resides in many [...]

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Lingering Taste

August 29, 2010

Feeling crept into awareness, subtle flavor I nearly missed lingers on my tongue. Alone I stand starring at the mirror, my face starring back at me. Flushed red frowning, puffy anger clinging to cheeks like rusted barnacles, all this I feel from the emptiness surrounding me, when your not here. My imagination is pulling away [...]

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Cheap Fireworks

April 2, 2010

I gazed directly at the edginess walking slowly toward me. It’s not that I was daydreaming or counting the three pennies in my jeans pocket, no I looked straight ahead devouring scenes of early spring propelled upon dusty work boots, and over the city sidewalks I maneuvered around heaved concrete slabs listening as they sighed [...]

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What’s it all about?

March 7, 2010

Those of us who do even the smallest amount of writing will find ourselves sooner or later in a quandary that may seem quite dark. This particualr quandry is not the one you might be thinking, no I’m talking about the act of writing itself and not the over used clutch of writers block. Lately [...]

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Flash Writing – Fidelity Immediate

January 1, 2010

Toward the end of the year I was pondering what Flash Fiction Fidelity (faithfulness) would look like if put into words or chalked out upon a soiled building wall deep within some forgotten alley. Like the chalk maybe rules for writing Flash are meant to dissolve with the first rain, dripping into an ever widening [...]

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