DFA Writes

just to let go. November 20, 2008

The way your chin curved so beautifully
in the yellow puddles of light,
that perfect reflection of a jealous sentiment
tinged with a lovely shade of passion.
God, how i wish i could hold you one last time.
wish i could scribble out all  all the words we didn’t mean. i
 wish I could blot out all
the minutes that slipped into hours, the hours that slipped into
days, the days into darker, darker weeks.

it’s been almost a month now.
almost every friday i go to that spot under the awning
of that nameless law firm , or reality broker,
or contractor’s office…
that building with the brown-brick awning.
our brown brick awning when there was still an “us”.
i sit exsactly where we sat,
remember exsactly the way you smiled
while we shivered,
i remember.

i remember the first, and only time,
you broke down the last defense,
and i handed you my keys. i remember
the first time i thought the worst,
as i listened to that voicemail
over
and
over
and
over again.

i remeber all the times you watched
the ventiliquist
all your bellylaughs that kissed my soul.

i remember the way you looked me in the
eye, the way you laughed
while i screamed, so close 
to the end.

your anger made me tremble.
God, what a temper.
waht terrible children we would have
concocted.

everytime we kissed in that room,
James Bond was kissing the woman in the
black sequine dress.
i can’t watch that scene anymore.
i can’t watch any movie with that woman
in the black sequine dress anymore.
or any movie that has any woman in
a black sequine dress, for that matter…

oh, how i wish i could hold you

                                          one

                                                  final

                                          time.

[ i try not to do alot of relationship pieces but i think there are some good images in this one. am i wrong? and i’d loke to get some possible feedback on it to develop it a bit… it’s rough right now]

the Privelege of a license and the perils of speeding… November 13, 2008

Waiting in line; my right foot had begun to twitch slightly out of relief, slightly of excitement. I had just passed a huge milestone in my life. I had cleared the last huge hurdle, besides graduating high school, which was keeping me from that ever-evasive “fun side of the island”. I had just passed my driver’s exam and was about to be handed my first license; my first pass to driving up until the mind blowing hour of eleven p.m. without my grandpa in the car. This was a sweet success; so sweet I tried not to do I victory dance when the little Hispanic woman behind the counter told me to stand behind the blue-taped line on the linoleum. I grinned ear-to-ear as the huge camera beside her captured my grinning face to be stamped upon said license. This was a major perk.

            Unknowingly when I accepted that license I signed the de-facto document that came with it. The one with the infinitesimally small print that read, “This license insures more responsibility that may be including, but may not be limited to, driving to rehearsals and practices to pick-up both smaller, younger siblings and also doing mom’s last minute grocery store runs to get everything she forgot while in Wal-Mart.” I accepted all these responsibilities with a smile. I was the sibling that made all the other performers in my siblings’ rehearsals jealous. I was the kid that had bought my own car, with my money. Everyone’s parents looked at their children scathingly when that fact was brought up at a party, as if to insinuate, “She can so why can’t YOU?” Getting my driver’s license made me very popular, very quickly; I loved it.

            One of the best perks I got with the license was embarking on my first road trip. My brother and I left home armed with two weeks worth of clothes each, a small cooler, a dozen maps, and lots of messages to be delivered. We left one early July morning from our house in South Augusta and traveled straight to Indianapolis, Indiana. We stayed for five weeks, leaving the day after my birthday. My mother would have come but was in the middle of her divorce with my father, making her unable to leave the state. Seeing that I had been a licensed driver for almost a full six months, she agreed to let my brother and I go on vacation. While on this vacation I also got the extended pleasure of doing out of state driving since my older brother does not currently have an automobile. I was the one who drove to meet all the aunts and uncles that our mother had set mandate visits for. I was the one who drove to Wal-Mart almost every week when we went grocery shopping. 

This was only one of the places that I no longer needed to have a “mommy ride”. I could drive to school, to my own rehearsals, and to youth group outings at church. Not only did I feel like I was contributing to the world around me because of my new license and status as “fellow vehicle operator”, my wallet also felt like any other contributing wallet of the days’ economy each and every time I filled my gas tank.

            Fast forward from late August at our return home to early September. Part of the definition of being a secretary is being prompt and taking notes. After being the secretary for the Georgia Junior Classical League (Georgia’s latin club), I was good at exactly neither of those things. The meeting was schedualed for that morning at eleven o’clock, and , of course, I was running late by about half an hour. Said meeting was suppose to take place in Cumming, Georgia which is roughly three hours from Augusta, with good weather. Fearing the rapture of the state chair, Cameron Ward, my foot was a lead weight on the accelerator. My car is almost twenty years old and as a veteran of the roads it’s shiny grill has been pushed very hard many times but that day I pushed poor Sir Lancelot to his very limit. Going twenty-six miles over a seventy-mile and hour speed limit I am truly surprised that my car did not just fall apart around me like that of the Flintstones’s. Panicking, with loud music on, I could never have seen that deer that might have decided to dart across the highway. Racing at mind blowing speed I could never have seen that truck come over the median as the poor, tired man behind the wheel had only closed his eyes for a just a second. I certainly could not have seen the nails on the road, or even known they were there until my tire blew out, making me swerve out of control, mowing down at least four or five other cars in the process. I wouldn’t have been able to explain to someone’s love one why they would not be coming home had I lost control of my vehicle and hit another car, striking and killing it’s occupants. I couldn’t look at the construction worker’s wife and children and tell them their father would not be coming home because, going ninety miles an hour, I did not see him and hit him.

            I am glad the Georgia State Patrol Officer pulled me over when he did. Although, at the time, I was only irritated and wanted to hurry along to my meeting I now fully understand potential of the damage I could have done. I am not trying to say that I am a terrible person who is bent on killing half the population by vehicular homicide. I just never fully understood how dangerous a potential three-ton killing machine could be while being operated at ninety-five or more miles per hour. I never realized that those things do not always happen to someone else. I really began to look at speeding and driving very differently after getting lectured by that GSP Officer on the strip of I-20 right outside of Madison County. All I want people to know is it is not worth the price of a life just to make it to your meeting three minutes early.

waiting for the morning. November 7, 2008

only i could know the smell of 3 hour-old muffins, with a hint of orange mint. That was our secret. We had waited all night for that bakery to open. running down to the shop we purchased 50 orange cinnamon rolls, 24 creme filled donuts and 2 bakers’s dozen scones WITH the rasberry creme cheese. i had dreamed of this day for years, even since childhood. I wanted everything to be perfect. I would have a midmorning wedding followed by a light brunch. It would be perfect.

I waited at the alter. He never came. i ate a muffin, tears in my eyes, three hours later. I was in my apartment with my sister and my mother. they were with me but somehow i was still so alone.

the rasberry creme cheese is still in my refrigerator. unopened.