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when little babies lay down little heads...
there are dreams of ice cream.
and never ever of monsters.
and sometimes they dream of monsters.
and on those nights they cry.
they pee in their beds and hug close their heads
while kittens get stuck in the blinds.

all these thoughts are mine.
they cannot hide the babies.
everyone must know the mess you've made.
and either way you show yourself through their skin.
and one day you'll show it through your own skin.

they've never grown
more than a few feet higher than a ruler.
and i saw one just the other day eating candy with sticky fingers
trying to pull kittens from the blinds.
digging through garbage she cries out.
lamenting the loss of the other kitten she believed to be hiding in the basement.

lay down your head sweet babies and dream ice cream and kittens.
dream of monsters no more.

missiles are anti-social

For obvious reasons, i have come to the conclusion that missiles are anti-social.
They will never stop on the street to "catch up" with you.
You won't find them at back to school night, lingering by the refreshment table looking for someone to chat with.
And you know very well that if you happen to be checking your mailbox at the same time, missiles will not wave and say hello.
They won't even give you "the nod".
You will invite them to your barbecues in an attempt to bring them into the circle of friends that you call your neighbors...they will not RSVP.
But what you need to understand is this.
As much as you will never understand why missiles do not want to be your friend, know that you do not want them as a friend.
If they stop you on the street,perhaps with carriage in tow, know it will only be to comment on how ugly your child is.
If they bump into you at the food store, know they will only address you passively by commenting on the close relation of your waist size and shopping cart contents.
If they happen to be in front of you in line at the post office, know they will make every attempt to prolong their transaction by asking about the limited edition stamps.
Know that you will have many friends in your life.
Know that they will show interest in your existence.
Know that that you can't make friends with everyone.
Know that you don't want to make friends with everyone.
Know that missiles will suck you dry.
Accept that missiles are anti-social.

up the street...

i have found a new home.
i cannot say how long i will stay.
my nails are brittle again from too much dish washing.
my fingers regain their beloved black ink freckles.
mocha polka dots create constellations on my forearms.
my feet sit sore in milk soaked shoes...
but i smile and chat and the banter drives me wild with delight.
this is the true outlet for my random conversations.
this is the place where i understand the workings of it all.
it is familiar and comforting.
perhaps one day i will be far away and disconnected from it all.
but for now, i have found a new home.
and my teeth chatter with the love of a new family.

i have been gone

working.
cutting...material.
poking...myself
with scissors and needle.
the cats have clawed my hands raw
while i handled the wiggling measuring tape.
blood and band aids.
the bobbin was my nemesis.
all of me has been put into this damn quilt.
you cannot laugh at my crooked hems.
if i ever see a scrap of rust orange velvet or
red and yellow tweed i will gouge my eyes out and sigh.
i hope that your quilt is well received.
i hope that your blanket keeps you warm.
it has taken away all my time to scribble down pointless observations.
it has made me slump in defeat at least twice a day for the past three weeks.
i complain, but really, i hope it makes you smile.