when I get the blues

your touch implied
your glances expressed
your lips uttered
your tongue danced
your hands molded
your walk convened
what never was
my skin reacted
my eyes sparkled
my lips responded
my mouth enfolded
my hips changed
my legs followed
what will never be

———————-
when i get the blues
and the blues get me
papa we are messed
not fit for company

when i get the tears
and they really come down
papa it ain’t fun no mo’
it ain’t a pretty sound

when i get like this
you don’t get it at all
papa you just up and leave
no one to catch my fall

when i get the blues
and you run so far away
papa can’t just come back
no place for you to stay

for my heart is closed
my engine out of juice
nothing for you here
papa i got the blues

Natalie

- Wow, look at Natalie go! She’s going to break him in half.

Natalie is kissing her boyfriend. Nat the pug, Nat the wet rag pug has a boyfriend! This is truly the end of the world.

-Oh yeah, you didn’t know? They’re the talk of the office.

-But she is so, so plain…ly needy and plain and chubby and alone and plain and I was going to ask her to go out with me. Me with a plain girl. Who is putting a shine on somebody else’s tonsils smack dab in the middle of the day. And he has her hands on her butt. The one I touched, the one that looks like droopy dough but makes her do that mewling sound on the back of her mouth, when she has her tongue down my throat, his throat, whoever’s throat.

Natalie, Natalie why  she do this to me? Just when I finally decided I liked her enough that I did not care about what people thought when they saw us together. That I wanted her round face and sensible bra to be the first thing I saw in the morning. Especially the bra. I did not know how mad tightey whiteys drove me until I saw her changing in her cubicle thinking nobody was around. 

Natalie has the face of a friendly pug and hair that always stand up on the ends. She is a bit chubby  and clearly in need of attention. She rarely speaks in the meetings, and when she does, she always starts with an apology.  The best thing anyone can say about her outfits is that they are there, they are clean and they cover her. And this is the woman I have been debating over, ever since that crazy weekend after the office party. The party for which she was changing in her cubicle and unknowingly modeled her sensible white bra for me. I saw her in that bra, her round back cut by its stretched out straps. It was a good, touching and intimate glance into somebody else’s inside world. Then Stella called me and I forgot all about the little impromptu peepshow.

Later at the party, we got together. I don’t remember how it exactly happened. One minute I was talking to Stella about some upcoming beach deal I was trying to get her to go to, and the next Natalie was shoving another plastic cup of vodka in my hand and telling me she was sorry. Stella had left. Natalie smiled a worried smile and I remembered the bra again. So I took her to my home. And she was just what the doctor ordered. Very lively, very energetic, very there. Her warm body was my consolation and a great way to spend the night. 

Then the morning came and she was still there. The displeasure must have shown on my face because sputtering apologies aplenty, she quickly scrambled her clothes and left. She was distant at work too. I mean I was relieved of course. Natalie was no prize and I don’t go in for chubby chicks anyway. It just irked me that she would not acknowledge our night together either by a look, casual touch or even a quick blush on her pug face. It got so that I started watching her very closely for a reaction, anything out of the ordinary, but she was the same as she’d ever been. 

I thought about it a lot. I could not think about anything else. I was not even returning Stella’s calls anymore. I got on the verge of approaching her several times but I always held back. I mean Natalie and I?  I might as well buy a real pug. Which I did. But only because it reminded me of her. I called it Nate. Still the sleeplessness did not go away and I still woke every morning with Natalie’s bra on my mind. It got so bad that I knew I either had to get her to hang out with me or buy Nate a white, sensible bra.

This morning was to be that day. The day that I stepped over my ego, what my friends thought and made my peace with the fact that I wanted to date Natalie. Maybe even marry her at some point. I was sure she would be a good wife. Yes, this morning was the morning when I started to live the rest of my new life. With Natalie. Who has apparently made up with her boyfriend. The office is abuzz with gossip about their little show outside. And nobody knows about my little turmoil inside. All I can think of is that at least Nate will be happy to see me when I get home tonight. And I guess I’ll still have time to swing by Sears lingerie department on the way home.

whimsy flimsy

You know I am better but you always win,

I take you for a ride, you take me for a spin

You stole my dreams as iI stole your thunder

You screwed me up as I put you under

I cast the spells and you reap the magic

I am funny face, you play Madame Tragic

When I find love, you always get a taste

when you get a ring, I laugh at the waste

You stand by the sink and I wash the dishes

You break hearts and I pick up the pieces

You are a lot of fire, I am freezing cold

together we’d have conquered this world

And yet here we are, two tired old ladies

fighting useless fights, and imagining babies.

I because I like them, you because you must

do you think one day, my dust will like your dust?

Like, genuinely like, and hold it by the hand

and with a straight face call each-other friend.

CheaterSmiter Girl V (rated ED)

Michelle clearly does not want to elaborate, but I am not budging. Besides, I am intrigued by her hesitation.

- Well, she says. - I met Pablo last year, through a friend. Can I have another one please?

She is clearly delaying but I let her have this little extra time. My patience is soon rewarded as she starts talking in a small voice.

- He told me he was looking for a good girl to start a family with. He was so handsome, and so attentive. I mean nobody ever listened to me like that before. And he helped me with my laundry, he picked me up from work, he paid when we went out, he complemented me and he did not care that I was fat.

I raise an eyebrow at this and she giggles, flipping her hair and making her full breasts jiggle. All of a sudden, the bartender starts cleaning the counter in front of us. She takes out her cell phone and shows me.

-I used to be much bigger before. I wasn’t huge or anything like that, but I was totally out of shape. And it was so hard to find someone decent, looking like I did…Some people were unkind even.

Preach to the choir sister. I could tell her stories.

-But Pablo, Pablo never did anything to imply he cared about how I looked. And he never pressured me for sex. He kissed me, hugged me, but he never pushed things beyond what I wanted to do. I never saw much of a point in sex anyway. I told him from the beginning that I sort of sucked at it. It did not matter to him.

-Really?- says the bartender, catching us both by surprise. 

-Don’t you have some drink to shake or stir or whatever you do? – I ask. He throws me a murderous look and moves away but not so far off as to not be able to listen here and there. Hmm.

-He said he would teach me to enjoy it. I could hardly wait for our first time together. Before, it had all been so…mechanical. I mean push here, paw there, lick two inches below, ooh aah, ow ow, flap around a bit and boom, it was all over. I could never understand what the big hoopla was all about. I thought maybe it was because I was fat, or inexperienced, or simply lacking the right equipment. I figured good sex was a myth of people who wanted to sell porn and cheesy novels.

-Some of those novels are worse than porn, I tell you that much - the bartender chimes in again. What is with this guy? I wave him away but Michelle starts to speak again and he does not move. Well, if she does not care, neither do I.

-So then, we sleep together. And Pablo was attentive, caring, romantic, patient, sexy. Only… -and she stops.

-Only? – I prompt her, not waiting for the obnoxious bartender hanging onto her every word.

-Only he… couldn’t…you know, do it.

-Huh?

-He could not get it up! – Michelle snaps. – So he finished me by hand and we spent the rest of the night talking in each-other’s arms. Still, it was my best night ever. Isn’t it pathetic? I fell deeper for him, because he was that much more human. I mean he had finally shown a flaw. 

-I totally get that. – The bartender says – I mean once my boyfriend…

We look at him and he shuts up. But I totally get it too. 

-So then we tried again, and again and nothing. I mean it did not go stiff once. We’d kiss, we’d make out, we’d sleep in each-other’s arms but nothing. I thought it was my fault. I tried dressing sexier, I lost weight, I watched more porn to learn how to do stuff, we tried watching it together, but it did not help. Not even a stir. And then I asked him to get  a Viagra prescription, but he refused to go to the doctor for a checkup.

-Maybe Pablo was batting for his team. – I say, pointing to the shameless bartender. 

-Well, I thought about that too. I once rented some gay porn “by mistake” and I left some gay magazines around the house, but it only made him angry. By this time, everything was cracking at the seams anyway. But I tried, I really did. 

-You could have tried putting your finger up…-The helpful bartender says but she shakes her head. I shush him. 

- I tried that too. It just did not work. Nothing did. Finally I suggested we go to the doctor but he flat out refused. And I… I did not know how to approach it anymore. I felt embarrassed because I was so frustrated. And I loved him. So one night we started fighting and he finally admitted he’d always been impotent. He’d never really…

-Wow! Never, ever…Really?! I say. 

-Supposedly he’d had a girlfriend some years back and he was able to…perform with her. But he couldn’t ever since.  And he’d never gone to the doctor because he was embarrassed. How asinine is that? Why are guys such idiots anyway?

We do not know how to answer. They just are.

-So I dragged him with me to the doctor. He finally got a complete workout, and the doctor said that Viagra would help. They could not really find a reason why he was the way he was for so long. The doctor also suggested some type of therapy and he started to do that too. 

-So, did it work? The Viagra?

-I do not know! Michelle says, frustrated – Three months ago, I found him flirting online with this girl we both met at some stupid party about a month before. I did not worry at the time because, well, you know, he could not do anything. In retrospect, I should have seen the signs. I mean she told both of us she was not that great at sex. We’d all drunk a bit and the naughty talk was flowing freely. Everybody was sharing their experiences…In vino veritas, as they say 

She stops and gulps the unasked refill the bartender has placed in front of her. All three of us are locked in this little universe created by Michelle’s strange story. Around us ICILICIOUS is bustling with life and alcohol, but we don’t pay any attention. 

-Then what happened? – I ask.

-He was putting off taking Viagra and sleeping with me. He said the doctor told him to put off it for the moment until more test results came back.  I don’t know, he had so many excuses. And I believed them all. I was frustrated so I started a fight again and we weren’t talking for a while. Usually he gave in first, but this time he did not. He would not take my calls or see me at all. Two weeks ago I found out he was engaged to this girl. I have been a wreck ever since. Yesterday, I found out she was pregnant so I contacted you. Now, will you smite him? 

I do not know. Maybe I should just make his Viagra prescriptions disappear.

just another blues song (in search of a tune)

this man never loved me

he tole’ me all tonight

this man never loved me

and he kicked me out all right

i could not believe it

but he did

oh baby is cold outside

and night is surely deep

oh baby is cold outside

but you don’t care where i’ll sleep

i cannot belive it

but you don’t

i’ll find another fire

to burn me high and hot

i’ll find another fire

just watch me if i don’t

even if you won’t believe it

and you won’t

Oh baby there’ll be the day

that you’ll be cold outside

oh baby, there’ll come this day

and no fire to warm you up

even if you can’t believe it

but you will

Find the Author (and grade the translator)

haven’t done one of these in a while so i thought i’d give a shot to this one. read it, skewer it, and find the author if you can. if you do, you get a beer from me. if you don’t, you get your own beer. in a wine glass.

I sit beneath the pines in this summer garden café

alone, a glass of wine in my hand. A waiter

silently serves the customers, still sparse

in this early dusk. The just-lit bulbs

inside half-broken globes scattered in the corners of the dancing platform

look half dead, like all lights do

just before the night settles in

On a Sunday

She woke up early that morning,  fixed her bed, then went to wash her face and comb her hair. Her hair always gave her trouble, because it was thick and wavy and it never stayed long within the confines of the big black clips behind her ears. It was also strangely healthy for a woman her age. She was secretly proud of it although not vain. She had never been vain. The whole neighborhood could testify as to her modesty, moral and character. The ones that were still left anyway. Most had moved away with their children, or died. She could count the remaining ones with the fingers of one hand, still remembering when they moved in as brides, grooms, young parents full of worry, stress and little kids. The truth was, she barely recognised their faces today, mostly when they said hi on the street, or when they came to ask her for little favors that only good neighbors can provide. As much as the neighborhood changed, they still knew which door was still open for an extra cup of sugar, a saucer of yogurt, or a jug of water for when their own fancy faucets ran out.

whimsical

he says, you look beautiful. he says, nobody will be able to take their eyes of you. he says, your lips are soft and full and meaty like a good steak that i want to devour. he says, there is a glow on you that refuses to go away. he says, they will know.

it is true, they always do. they see the handywork, they understand the effect, and they try to find this magician that can perform the miracle of glamour, the beauty caster, the vigorus chef that cooks bodies in their own heat and sweat, until they turn into something so delectable, he commits gluttony on them.

there is no magician, no chef, no caster. it is all the talent deep inside that pours then dries out, the hands that lament a master while they shape the beauty, the brains that refuse to quit even when everything else is beat.

and she looks beautiful still. it will soon fade, absorbed by the mediocre, the hungry who can never get their fill because they keep spitting it out instead of swallowing it, and those strange creatures who can only flourish while all faces around them are drained and doped.

but while she looks beautiful and he looks on, life blooms and the skies turn blue. because he said, you look beautiful today.

sleepy verse

 such strange food you are

an all around ethopian combo

burns my tongue

then soothes it with that sweet silent wine

I am so full,

I can’t do anything but dream

and wake hungry again.

the prostitute (warning!!! sensitivity offender)

The car stopped at her feet and she got in it quickly, almost as if she did not want to be seen. She was surprised to feel a bit of shame still, even after six months into this thing. The quick entry hiked her skirt almost to her waist, exposing her thighs in the process and she unthinkingly tried to fix it.

-Don’t! – The driver said and put his hand on hers. – The skirt is fine where it is.

She left it like that and stared straight ahead fully conscious of his hand rubbing her thigh. She did not know why it was irritating her so much today. It was not the first time he had rubbed her thigh, or palmed her breasts while he drove to the little abandoned parking lot. It was usually like this. He picked her up, he drove her to the parking lot, they had sex and he dropped her off either at the same place or at a bus stop nearby. She’d tried conversation before but had found out that no matter what she said, she only got a grunt back if it was not related to sex. And if she tried after they were finished, he would be too sleepy or too pressed for time to talk to her.

Today too he kept pinching her nipples, which she had to admit, made her wet immediately and sort of muddled her mind.

She had no illusions about why she was in that car. She was completely aware of what he expected from her, and she was fully bent on giving him that. It was just that, well, it would be nice to pretend that that was not all there was to it, and that he possibly had other reasons to meet apart from sex. She did not like that the truth was dancing naked in front of her, just as his, um, private thingy would be in one, two, three, four, five…and go. Yep, there it was, bouncing and winking its only eye expectantly, begging for her mouth. It needed her warmth, the release that she could give, and the sweetness of her already salivating mouth.

She stayed where she was, looking at it. He waited, then took the initiative and kissed her on the mouth while his hand stopped molesting her chest and went on to rub her neck. She kissed him back fully and with tongue, but otherwise kept her hands relaxed on her sides. They went on kissing for a while until he realized nothing else was going to happen and broke the kiss.