Steam rising from the soup urn cried out to be eaten. Before the ladle could serve it’s cupped treasure my other hand plunged slathered bread deeply into the foggy green pea soup all the way to the second knuckle before the searing heat caused  recoil and pain.

Emotions sending signals of desire from somewhere unknown completely hijacked my  consciousness, I obeyed commands shoving the bread dripping with green and yellow snoot into my cavernous mouth where my tongue sent impulses of ecstasy back and forth to my lonely primitive self, releasing gush after gush wave upon wave of delight exploding in every cell and region of my body. Even places long dead lit up briefly like backyard fireworks trailing off wet in a  hot July night.

Mustache caked with greenish yellow back-flow licked clean,  teeth gleaning, dripping saliva like a lion finishing its kill, picking at my teeth succumbing to desire rolling over exposing my soft side, drifting off to exotic places and erotic dreams still possessed by emotional tyranny looking to feed its elevated hunger.

Under my arm which was under the big black umbrella I carried your present covered in an old dry cleaning bag protecting it from the wet above and the splashes below. Every few feet I would look down at the package and smile thinking of you and wondering if you’d love this gift I was bringing to you.

At the bus stop I was the only one waiting, cars and trucks flew past leaving a rooters tail of mist shooting up into the sky hoping to beat the red traffic lights capricious nature. As they flew past I smiled under my big black umbrella thinking it could be any city in America where drivers  just look straight ahead missing everything around them, their passengers blank stares catching my eye and missing my smile.

Deftly I looked at my watch without anyone noticing and saw it was noon, time for the bus to be here to take me to you. Almost before I could look up my ears heard the dirty roar of diesel rumbling toward me and the metal grabbing of wet breaks as the bus stopped in front of me, climbing the steps holding your present tightly paying the fare I found a seat among all the empty seats hanging my black umbrella on the seat in front of me  and sat with your present on my knees.

The bus roared off down any main street chugging and lurching as it inched forward, squealing and hissing as it was made to stop. I thought about how excited you would be when I knocked on your door and handed you the present. Out from under the plastic I’d pull the neatly wrapped deep blue box all tied with yellow string inviting you to sit and unwrap it.

Click click click the fare box on the bus wrenched me from my daydream,  looking up I saw two young working girls making their way toward the seat in front of me, I quickly move my umbrella to make room, the taller one smiles mouthing thank you. They are in their twenties radiating a youth that covers them like a transparent egg shell and before I can catch myself leering they both turn in their seats and smile at me.

Quickly I’m pulled into their eyes so fresh and vital my hearts aches. The taller of one asks me what I’m carrying?” It’s a present” I stammer all tongue tied and gurgly. The girls look at each other with pouted smiles that could only be for my benefit. My thoughts drift to them and I wonder if they know they now belong to me, they are mine to take home for a rainy day just like today.

The bus lurches forward almost throwing me to the floor then stops and the girls get up to leave, turning back waving and smiling they are gone before I can end my daydream, before I can take them home I realize I have your present all wrapped up and on my knees. I think about how you would forgive me of my fantasy but just to be sure I’ll not tell you.

I climb the 13 wooden steps to your door my umbrella now under my arm the clouds parting to send a sliver of sun to your door. I think about how you would point out the  poetic nature of such a moment and I stop to breathe it into me so I can save it for you. I reach out ringing the door bell waiting for you to throw open the double wooded doors welcoming me hugging me kissing me but there is no answer.

Walking around your house carrying the present I have for you I look in every window only to see empty rooms, only to see no signs of you. Confused I sit on the porch swing holding your present on my lap swing back and forth wondering where you could be. The silver of sun passes by fading into evening and I swing back and forth with our present on my lap wondering where you could be

Starring out the window silence broken therapist asks what memories I have from growing up

Swiveling  in my chair praying silently the burning in my throat the tears manifesting behind my bulging eyes will join memories long forgotten from years of denial fading deeply into unconsciousness.

Memories flood of baby sitters parading in to care but always leaving while ignoring my cries to stay, walking out in a trail of slimy platitudes telling me it would be ok and it never was.

Memories wash over me of staying after school, staying after church  janitors and nuns who could not be bothered with knowing my name shuffling me from room to room.

Detention was a blessing a refuge sitting with kids like me, forgotten kids, scared kids, abused kids, unwanted kids all acting out for attention that momentarily stopped the feelings, that for the briefest time made things alright.

I leaned against the car in the therapist parking lot shaking from memories I didn’t want to feel, tears streaming down my face all from an empty place inside. From the car she got out and guided me into the passengers seat kissing my face while strapping me into the seat like a child.

Once home I laid on the couch with my head on her lap rhythmically convulsing in tears. Lighting a cigarette handing it to me as she’d brush back my hair with her fingers, I’d take a long drag momentarily coming into a pissy reality then fade back into hugging myself.

Over and over she repeated “you didn’t deserve to be abandoned” urging me on till I repeated it out loud while rocking in her arms. “I didn’t deserve to be abandoned… I didn’t deserve to be forgotten, I didn’t deserve to be left alone”.

She undressed me and put me to bed, clean fresh sheets, then she undressed crawling into bed to hold my still convulsing body, she lifted her breast offering it to me my mouth opened to receive it and all the comfort that came with it.

This was the first time she had allowed me to break down, to decompose, to not be the alpha dog, it would be the last time as well. 30 days later she would leave while I was at work. I’d never see her again but I never felt abandoned.

Let me be your sandwich

Fingernail the tape baby, one quick flick is all you need to do, I’ll be free to be unwrapped free to be discovered laid open for your pleasure naked on your plate.

Let me be you sandwich

My ingredients touching each like crazed orgies of the senses, spices, oils, muscle and grizzle straining to hold me together, blood and spit traveling end to end.

Let me be your sandwich

You can eat me two handed rough or cut me into four delicate tongue teasing morsels just waiting for your enameled fingers to chomp me up.

Let me be your sandwich

Serve me on your stomach so my drizzled juices meld with yours creating sticky love, television background all black and white, neighbors quiet listening as you eat.

Let me be your sandwich

Throw out my pickles throw out my onions, get down to the bone the marrow of my soul, the succulent center of all my creativity. Fingers as fork digging in the middle bringing up gobs feeding mouths as cups sharing one then another.

Let me be your sandwich

Discard my appearance close your eyes savoring my touch knees, thighs stomach, neck back then lips to lips I come to you.

Let me be your sandwich.

Crumbs laying upon your out stretched body licking fingers smiling at white paper crumpled on the floor, waiting for desert. My breath is served upon your treasure, mouth upon the universe, kiss upon your love, pleasure joy ecstasy all mixed mashed and swallowed.

Satiating warmth wraps you in white paper and you sleep.

Crushing rant dimming light, depression squeezes gray matter out my ears dripping down my neck cold sticky emotions finding their way out of my decaying soul. Nothing will stop the tortured pursuit of me for you.

There’s one more hole to climb out of to see your smile. I ask, will you smile back if muscle my way from this muddy pit my feelings have constructed, this quicksand of denial I pass off as me, will your smile be there if I climb out?

Grinding hips wrapping tongue against around, pressing  against the chain link fence trying to feel something, needing to break through to you. Hands bloody from grabbing too hard, tongue bloody from biting too hard, hips bloody from grinding too hard.

Struggling alone inside my head, one more hole to climb out of, Lights dim each time I turn to see your smile wondering if this time it won’t be there.

Tossing around pretending to sleep, acid crawling up my throat to wake me reminding me I’ve one more hole to climb out of. I don’t need reminding I know where I am down in this piss infested hole representing my life.

One more hurdle before your smile greets me before you arms wrap around my neck squeezing your love into me, licking my face with your sloppy tongue thrusting your knee between my legs to wake me from my fright.

I’ve run so long so far I don’t know where I am which city which street I’m on. I only see one more hole to climb out of. One more hole then another, before I see your smile.

My lifeless corpse vibrates to a distant memory heard laying my head on your chest last time I crawled out of just one more hole. Will you be there this time when I crawl out?

Will it be you who welcomes me or will you spit your salve in my face while you grab me telling me what I can do for you how I can be there for you. Will you mistreat me so I know you love me, will you hate me so I know you care that I crawled out of one last hole to see your smile.

Should I crawl out of one last hole or should I cover myself with dirt holding your smile in my still beating heart all to myself?

Leah curled in front of the fireplace clutching her legs to her chest her cheek rubbing against the filthy braided rug, she didn’t care, this was her refuge from this ugliness’s inhabiting her body and mind.

She watched the flames dance in front of her eyes filling her pupils with orange, temporarily blocking out the feelings of dark arid barrenness, that’d become her soul.

Leah was frightened by her lack of feeling more then anything else. Change had hit Leah like a landslide in the desert mountains, dust clouds of confusion surrounding her senses while the dryness of anxiety choked off her words and thoughts.

As if trapped on a carousel her mind chattered round and round the same thought, was she losing her mind like her mother had. Would she succumb to the terror she’d seen as a little girl. As this gained strength her body started involuntarily jerking in petite spasms. As if she were already dead her tongue fell out of her mouth touching the pee stained rug sending revulsion echoing through her, she didn’t move.

Leah morphed into a rag doll melting into the floor crying softly for everything she’d lost. One hand over her face catching the tears while in furtive gesture of despair her other hand wedged itself between her dry legs knowing there was nothing left to feel.

From her fetal prison Leah could see the fires consuming dance slowly leaping skyward, hot blue interior of the flame directing it upward to freedom. Leah wondered about the feel of burning on her skin, asking herself which was worse a long descent into madness or the madness of crawling into the fire and freeing herself.

The flames call grew louder seemingly promising Leah a way out, crackling and popping, laughing, pointing and enticing her to get up to crawl into its burning arms for relief. The fires pull was overpowering Leah, she felt longing for release her hands now pushing her heavy body upright.

Leah unconsciously unbuttoned her shirt throwing it into the hungry fire, soon her jeans and underwear fed the fire. Naked on her knees leaning toward the flames hands rubbing her stomach in tight circles Leah gasped at the nothingness playing out in front of her.

Her shoulders felt like rusted steel bending and twisting in searing pain yet Leah grabbed the field stone skirt and pushed herself away from the ravenous mouth that drooled its lust out into the room showering embers of anticipation in front of her horribly naked yet upright body.

Leah stood quietly watching as the mouth folded back into a fireplace, her body drenched in sweat, she ran her fingers over her stomach and felt a little fire burning there where a moment ago there had been nothing. Leah let a little smile break out out in her scared soul and laid down on the bed to sleep.

On the door a sign said closed for holiday, impatiently jiggling the handle I pressed my nose against the window in hope of being noticed, in hope of being noticed so an exception to the rule would be made.

For God’s sake it was my birthday, every year I’d drive into the city to get my cake and make no mistake, it was my cake. A 12 layer chocolate confection, filled inside with liquid ooze so decadent, so luxurious it mashed your taste buds into submission and usually rendered you speechless.

I walked toward the bridge wondering if I might fling myself into the river. I wasn’t depressed but I needed that cake, I needed to taste, to experience the overpowering delight in each bite and then fall into the arms of the Goddess that flows into your soul in subtle waves of ecstasy.

I needed to be part of something beyond my pitiful existence. I craved visiting feelings you could only find in a shangri-la of dark gooey sticky slippery velvety chocolate. I turned on my heels and headed back to the store, at least for today the demon inside would not coax me to the rivers edge.

Back at the Bakery I kicked the door muttering something about seeing them in hell and walked back to my car where I typed Ben & Jerry’s, Waterbury Vt into the GPS. The factory tour would have to suffice this year.

Mobile post sent by Craig using Utterli.  Replies.  mp3

I ran across a couple of communities for artists that I thought might be of interest. First is Pangaeaa, it’s tag line is “bringing the art together.” Seems to be a robust online community and worth checking out. Second is Protagonize, it is an online communnity for writers and those that want to be writers. Third is Urbis which says they are helping writers market and find opportunities to market their work. Forth and last is UrbanSeeder, it is a site centered around communicating with people one on one.

Sometimes having a community of peers who comment on our work can be a good thing, of course sometimes it is the last thing any of us want. Make the choice either way on a daily basis, going down the same road everyday is a ticket to becoming stale.

Door closed in front of me, knob waiting to be turned

Window closed but I can see, what’s waiting for me

Path at woods edge pointing me to nature,waiting

Mountain touching sky, waiting for me to climb

Lover laying exposed, arms on-top of head, waiting

Seven Eleven clerk distracted, waiting for me to pay

Car Wash cavernous tunnel waiting, drive in the tracks

Television’s blank stare, waiting for me, to press on

Email dot on the screen, waiting for your electric charge

Roads dusty with pollen, waiting for the rain

Dishes piled high staring at chrome fixtures, waiting

Graves baked, grass burnt, flowers wilted, waiting

Roadside humanity, doorway sitters, unshaven retches, waiting

Soldiers wife pushing out children, alone, waiting

Gurney’s stained with last nights fracas, waiting

Angels weeping, devils laughing, God vacationing, waiting

One Arm Bandits swallowing deeper then a whore, waiting

Pastor’s Priest, toll collectors of our souls, waiting

Time ripped from Form, waiting

Waiting waiting waiting waiting, waiting

Ancient cutting board pitted knife English country plates

Nervously cut toasted golden sourdough

Olive oil mayo slathered like meringue

Drizzling lemon puddles filling mayo crevices

Ripe juicy tomatoes sliced thick dripping blood

Steel grinds pepper fine infusing tomato membranes

Grated parmesan merging with pepper, tomato, lemon,  mayo, bread

Fingers dripping delight with acidic juices spiced from nature

Lovers mouth waiting, open, receptive, yielding, famished

Each bite exciting nuanced earthy flavors, melding into something new

Silva juices mixing mashing liquefying ravishing sun air ground vines sweat

Juices dripping mouth neck breasts, drying like a mountain road

Stomach spreading satiated glow throughout our bodies

Lover’s juice encrusted fingers gently licked clean

Long soft kisses exchanging tangy sweet remnants, upon the kitchen table

The refrain in the background “Heroin” grabs my backbone, I sit straight up my left fingers reaching to caresses industrial tan monitor shell.

Lips pursed moving closer to the digital screen connecting me to the universe. Tongue licking glass trying to get in.

Again “Heroin” enters my bleeding ears sending orgasmic warmth into my chest into my crotch, “Heroin”.

Chills ramp through my body in both directions as I run ten fingers through my matted greasy hair, letting out a plaintive moan all drooling sexy.

Like a cardboard junkie I arch my chest rosteeresque, hands sliding from hair to nipples then knead stomach into a rounded shape relishing my touch.

“Heroin” naked behind my eyes everything turns maple syrup, walls melting couch rising up to receive my body.

“Heroin” hugs with the touch of my first lover all giddy, sliding glass against glass watching myself repeat it repeat it repeat it.

Sickly flame flickering melting my mind running out of time spent my last dime.

“Heroin” draining from my mind over taking my frightened fragile soul.

I guess I just don’t care I guess I just don’t care “Heroin” got me by the balls.

“Heroin” in the background of my mind, crawling under my skin crawling on the floor.

Can we go again, can we go again?

On my knee Randy the lush parodies  Marilyn Monroe, asking if I’ll buy her another drink

Not wanting to feel those pesky lonely feelings I snap my fingers, for another round

A Credence cover band blasts out a respectable Susie-Q I like the way you walk, I like the way you talk, oh baby, I love you Susie-Q

I catch myself falling into Randy’s amply exposed bosom she just strokes my hair and says Oh honey, you paid for em

Rod Stewart steals the microphone grinds out “I recall the night we shared a dream”  and the crowd goes wild. Rod shakes his arthritic hips wondering if this 79th  attempted comeback will crack it open

Through the nicotine windows I watch all the people rush by  Lou Reed press his face against the glass and sings “I see the Light” then merges with the suits

On cue Randy takes my hand saying Honey I’ll show you the light

Here we go again upstairs to chase away the pain of being all alone

I wonder – what’s going on

Crap crap crap that’s all this is my editor yelled. Day after day you come in here with these light weight stories and you expect me to publish them, what’s wrong with you? He sneered

What’a mean lite weight stories, I write about heart break, romance and unrequited love

Shit man all you write about are romanticized views of reality and they are not even your reality they are some sort of dark works colored with an Audrey Hepburn-esque brush.

I recoiled in my chair griping the arms tightly,” what are you saying, you have encouraged me to to write more you said my work was deepening and was good”. I shouted.
“
I said those things hoping you would move toward your depth toward your truth. Instead you serve up white bread drivel meant to melt the heats of women who lie on couches eating chocolates and spend the night getting themselves off.”

Your experiences are not like what you write, hell most of the women you’ve loved were wicked, they were drunks, they slept around, fuck a couple of them were whores  and yet you continue to write like you were stuck in the 1950’s.

By this time anxiety was cascading throughout my body, I wanted to run and run fast I had to get out but I couldn’t move it all just flew apart like some dime store puzzle.

The editor stared at me red faced then lit it up again. “Now your sitting there wanting to run away when you need to jump over this desk and beat my god-damn face in, but no your all caught up in your head.”

He took a breath walked around the desk to sit in the chair next to me and with a hand on my knee continued to destroy everything I had thought about my writing.

Let me give you an example. He effused. You write about these women in your life like they are the only ones with the flaws yet that’s not  your own experience, out of the 3 big loves of your life two died hating you and the third won’t talk with you. What’s that say man? Why are you not writing about that?

Look I said I’ve had enough, this is over I don’t want to hear another word, your fired.”

My editor stood up laughing and looked down at me saying “you can’t fire me, for christ-sakes man, I’m you.”

Oh Come On!

What’da mean what am I saying
I don’t need no sing song rhythm to get past the wax
You understood me when I said your fat
So slow to get out the door, always stopping to breathe
You know what I mean, you know what I mean
Stop the show I want to get off, stop the car I want to get out
Stop the fucking planet so you can get your lazy self off
Off to another galaxy where whining will seem new
Off to merge with the difference you crave and whine so much about
Gotta be new, gotta be hip, gotta be now sister, gotta be right now.
Ain’t no time to be bored, gotta be floored, gotta be seen.
Who I am, I’m the man you got walking behind you picking it all up
Ain’t no time for sugar, Ain’t no time just gotta be you gotta be seen
Gotta be new, Gotta be hip, gotta be now sister, gotta be right now