Fingers running through my hair this way then that way, combing style into mood and, touch into knowing deeper things about the other.

You and me together on warm tarpaper roof vibrating from huge neon sign, bodies covered in Fassbinder Red, laying together upon checkered picnic cloth, cold chicken eaten quickly from buckets then, turned over becoming Bohemian lovers bongos. Cold beer chasing away roofs late day sizzle, poems created to drumming rhythm neon cycles.

Fingers probing each others skin, you guiding my mouth between your legs with one hand while using the other to play a beat and, asking me to play you with my tongue, asking me to play notes on your keys, bop bop bop… pop pop pop…

Tarpaper roof covered with checkered picnic cloth and, you and me.

Cardboard 7/365

I can pry open the plywood push the cardboard through crawl through myself in two minutes, no one sees me, I’m quick.

The more floors up less chance street punks find me, they kick me, rip my cardboard laugh so loud leaving me crumpled wet with piss, cold without my cardboard.

I hide from everyone no one cares bout me not anymore maybe not ever, a few on the street I trust but only when I’m awake, I never sleep near anyone. I’m not big I can’t fight back like the boys I just take it waiting for them to leave. Sometimes I cry cause it hurts with them on top of me, but mostly I go away.

Sitting in my cardboard I feel safe, like now looking out the little crack I can see the snow outside falling so far below me, it’s pretty and I wonder will it hurt jumping on the snow from here. I only have to unlatch the window and I can go away.

Snow Squeeze 6/365

Jasmin fretted a little about the recession, she knew diversifying her products would fortify her monetary well-being.

She thought and thought some more, when out of the sky came her answer, snow. Yes snow she said to anyone who would listen, snow is the answer.

Jasmin fashioned a contraption she called the snow squeeze, it collected snow squeezing out all imperfections and funneling pure snow into her special tank.

Jasmin bottled her concoction naming it Snow Boost a special water to enhance creative juices. The irony was not lost on Jasmin.

Customers were ecstatic, every bottle flew off the shelf.

Hanging Plant 5/365

“I’m happy to help” I told her, never realizing the depth of my offer.

Heading outside planters in hand I looked up, then I realized this was one complicated job.

The third floor window had a rot iron plant holder, the old woman wanted to see the plants from that window.

A misshapen grin spread as I pondered a permanently painted shut window, three stories up.

It came to me, I threw a ball of string over the iron holder creating a crude pulley. An hour later I had both plants hanging where she could see them, brightening her day.

Alabaster Sins 5/365

god I kneel before thee offering myself in transparent and humble shame, my sins are great taking up vast tracts in my scorched soul.

pride binds me to self, my putrid sight does miss what others see, greed gushes within my heart craving to take from others without returning.

god I supplicate my wretched foul body before thee seeking guidance and forgiveness for I have coveted things not mine lusted in dank alleys of the mind to possess the unpossessable

god I shed torrents of tears begging for absolution, a son hungering to be once again within your loving arms.

Blueberry Oatmeal

Jasmin was known as more then a little eccentric a few used kooky in their descriptions, yet the labels never stopped people from seeking her out.

Jasmin was a healer, an artist, a masseuse, a drummer but what people traveled hundreds of miles for was her mouth watering taste bud popping trade marked Blueberry Oatmeal.

Some people would eat it for its magical curative powers, others slathered it on aching muscles and creaky joints. In discrete adult company stories were told how it would supercharge you know what.

Jasmin only made two claims, it always tasted good and lowered cholesterol.

Tilt A Little 3/365

Karen knew it was an empty collection of wood, glass and nails yet in her mind it was sinister, her thoughts imagining lurid awful things going on at night.

One night, her family asleep she snuck out to see for herself.

Heart racing Karen silently peered through greasy filthy garage glass when the hand of a little girl embraced hers.

At first she flinched then became receptive to the girl’s touch, a trust and longing filled her.

Through the doll house door Karen went carrying no regrets and no past, she followed herself into a world of wonder and delight.

Tangy Friends,

Maria banged her head on the cupboard, “why can’t I think of one more guest” she growled, reviewing her mental guest list.

Trudy a habanero always dangling her shoes daringly, Matt a bell pepper solid and reliable, Vivie a jalapeno she lingered subtlety yet hot.

Roxanne beautiful yet sweet as Holland red, Carlos of course was crushed red pepper a very nice topping. Juan a pepperoncini all Mediterranean, Simone a poblano dark smokey with a bite,

Maria struggled finding one more tangy friend for her very elegant party, “of course it’s Alonzo a cayenne pepper good with everyone,” she effused.

Clean Plate 1/365

We both tried, isn’t that what your supposed to say when a break up occurs?

Oh sure I know I bent myself into a saltless pretzel, rolled myself flat all flaky pie crusty hidden under the flour so the tears never showed.

She smashed dishes screaming how worthless I was, how I had robbed her of possibilities dragging me through a colander shredding my soul and remaining love into nothing.

We went from a plate full of color mixing and melding simmering and boiling with possibilities to an arid plain trying to eat lifes juice, lifes blood with a fork.