Two Minutes and Five Seconds

This is basically my life right now.

A List of Lists

Red Things
-Buttons
-Bears
-Candle wax
-Toasters

Blue Things
-Blobs
-Frogs
-Eyes
-Memory

New Things
-Babies
-My zit
-Gloves
-The term

Moo Things
-Cows
-Grass
-Cud
-Cows

Glue Things
-Tape
-Elmer
-Frowns
-Hugs

You Things
-Glasses
-Haircuts
-Bow ties
-Cats

True Things
-Physics
-James Madison
-Pineapples
-Numbers after 12

The Princess and the Pluviophile

You were so happy when I knew the word "petrichor."  Nobody else knows that word except for me and you.  How does that work?  When I asked, I didn't even think you would.  Was that really how it happened?

Needless to say, this gray weather has made me more than a little red and blue with wanting to see you.  Thing is, I know you're dying to see me too.  You're probably dying just a little more inside because you know the word "petrichor" and you love the rain and you're the reason why we talk about it every time it occurs and why I go walk around in boots and an umbrella in the downpours that I can.

I know I'm your princess, okay?  Just let me know when you figure out what that means for yourself.  In the meantime, I hope you can figure out from my discombobulating responses and loud laughter that you're my pluviophile.

We'll be pluviophiles for life, okay?  No, that's not a commitment to you.  It's a commitment to me and to the rain and to the petrichor.  I swear by my title as a princess.

However.

Right now, we can be pluviophiles not for life at the same time and together.

A Second Hypothetical Conversation with Howard Long

Hello my dear Howard.

And how are you tonight?

Oh.

That's good.

I thought you might be at least a little better.

But that's fine.


So it sounds like you miss me Howard.

Fine.  Just fine.

I CARE.  You ROCK anyway.


Once again...the moon.

Yep.  It's pretty romantic.

I'm kind of serious this time.

What can I say?  Where do I start?

Okay.

Deep breath.

Let's face it--I was wrong about you.

Just because I did not know you, just because I saw the boyish side of you, just because you were far too afraid and I just too unsure.

It all changed when you told me what you want to be when you grow up, and that matters.

"Perhaps I'll let myself," I said.  "Perhaps it's not just the attention he's giving me."

And it worked.

You're wonderful and charming and delightful and I know I care more than ever even though I've totally always cared.  Thanks for the letters.  We haven't admitted they're love letters yet, but the wax seals prove it for us.

You should have told me you were going on an expedition of everything too.  I'm not supposed to know, but I'm told it's because you want to meet me at the edge of the universe.

That'd be nice.

I've seen more moons in more skies and I'm starting to change my mind.  The moon can be as creative as all the things you've done that I never thought were possible.

That were for me.

I didn't know you adore Clair de Lune too.

Want to dance to another song?  I'm sorry it's in Spanish again.  But you'll probably like it.

Adios and fond farewell.


Sapo Azul por Jesse y Joy

Stranded

So we're stranded in the middle of nowhere, waiting for a rescue fleet.
It's like laying in a street
At 10:39pm
In the Milky Way
On Earth
In America
Outside my house
Alone.

But I am not outside my house
In America
On Earth
In the Milky Way
At 10:39pm
Laying in a street.


And yet I'm still alone.

Space Camp

Captain stopped the spacecraft on a distant planet which was shaped like something I could never describe.  A lot of little alien kids hopped on and we gave them a ride.

"Where are you going?" I asked a particularly short one; I think it was a girl.

"To save a galaxy!" it chimed.  "And survive a supernova!"

"You really think you'll do that much?  Aren't you a bit young?"

"The youngest youngling ever!  Exactly so!"

And then the supernova hit.

I banged my head on the deck and things got fuzzy.  Red lights went off.  Alarms blared.  My nose bled.

In the morning, those kids were gone, so the only thing I remember...

Was them smacking the floor and screaming "I THOUGHT THIS WAS SPACE CAMP!  I THOUGHT THIS WAS SPACE CAMP!"

Herbs

Mint and lavender.

Mint for me, and lavender for you.

You picked the mint from your garden.

I picked the lavender from a speeding comet.

Mint has soothing properties, perhaps it can make this comet slow down.  Oh dear.  The comet looks like my heart.  Mint is a bit too much for it--you know how I feel.

Slow down everything, because I can't do it.  Not when you give me mint.

Here is your lavender.  A marvelous little plant.  Lavender is poetry.  Lavender is a pastime.  Lavender is purple, which just so happens to be a combination of two of my favorite primary colors.

I have a feeling you like those colors too.

I can't keep calm, so if you want to ride the comet with me, you had better find a way to slow things down.  I don't want you to stop giving me mint.

If only we had a little more thyme.

Whack

Everyone is dead.

I'm looking at you, pathetic humans.  You bloggers, you.

You're sad and broody.  All the time.  And yet your stuff is so remarkable.  That's not fair.

The parts of me that are dead go stiff in the dirt and I weep over the carved stones of their dwelling places until I am forced to avenge their death and structure my life around reviving them.

I beat the ghosts of myself with a club.

You dance with your ghosts in the darkness.

I am alone in the light.

I want the light.

I don't need ghosts.

I don't want to write ghosts.

But you all do.  And it is beautiful.  It's not fair.

Maybe it is because I do not know your darknesses.

But I want to write bright.

Is that too much to ask for, in an existence of divine shadow?

Please take pleasure in what happiness I can offer you in my jealous and ignorant state, you little lurking beasts.

For I will not be morbid.

Here is a microwave and some leftover pasta.

Here is my favorite pair of gloves.

It's getting cold outside, but you don't have to cry.

If you do, you can still be sad.  But make it a good sad, without the raw gore and sobbing embellishments.

Here is a tear to go with the cold.

It was not fun to extract from my eye.
Go ahead and sigh.
Just don't die.

I'm Not Dead. It's Called Homework.

So you know my secret.

I'm still traveling the universe, but the thing is, the longer I'm here, the more like home it feels.

I still sit in class.

I still have a job.

I even went to Homecoming and Sadie Hawkins.

Now isn't that funny.

I'm here, but I'm hiding, but I'm all over the place and won't get out of your face.

Kind of like the universe and my life.

Here are some post cards from another dimension.

A Letter to Fear

Dear Fear,

Hello dear.  How has it been since I ran into you?  Remember, when I fell out of the space craft and landed in the black hole?

I hope you and Anxiety are doing well.  I saw her across an asteroid belt the other day.  We chatted about the two of you and paced back and forth a bit.  By a bit, as you know, I mean a lot.  She told me all about her pacing in the kitchen while she makes you sandwiches.

Grilled cheese is your new favorite.  Perspiration is the butter that browns the bread, and the cheese is the filth that gets in humans' heads.

And I hear there's a baby too.  You named her Worry.

Well you know what they say about Worry and rocking chairs.  Bet she's fun to put to sleep.  Bet she drinks her bottle all up.

I just wanted to let you know something, Fear.

LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You stalker.

Get out of my life.  You and your creepy family and your pet tarantula.

Don't make me get a restraining order.  Do those count out in space?

Serenity Blue

Just So You Know

I like it when you fold paper cranes better than the pouring rain.

Sometimes you have to write in pencil, not pen.

People will tell me it's less genuine.

But hey.

It's different.

And that is absolutely everlasting.

At least as everlasting as the thread on the friendship bracelet you gave me.

My  nail polish is chipping away just like the time.

But at least the time has been spent on you.

House of Bricks

Come brother, come sister,
Come into my house of bricks.
It's better than straw and sticks.
I won't play any tricks.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in."
Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin.

Listen one and listen all,
There's a big bad wolf outside.
He runs around, but we will hide,
And he will be denied.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in."
Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin.

You're a pig and I'm a pig,
But we can make some stew.
Maybe the wolf will fall in our brew.
I have fresh vegetables too.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in."
"Not by the hair on my chinny chin CHIN!"

He could huff and he could puff,
But he couldn't blow MY house down!
But...why does that make you frown?
I thought his eyes were yellow, not brown.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in.
I'm just a sheep, but I'm in wolf's skin."

---

Straw and sticks aren't as strong as bricks,
But bricks will kill you slower.

So if I'm not stew
Before you're through,
I'll shave my chin
And let you in.