poetry?

you're dad is getting older,

my brother is off to war,

you can smell the smoke on his clothes.

i look like my grandfather when he was 26

dodging bullets and raising flags.

he likes to walk around in the rain,

you're too tired to think,

he thinks you drink way too much caffeine.

you feel like your grandmother when she was 24

making quilts and raising kids.

Chapter 8: Anxiety

"If you bought those new jeans, then you'd fit right into my world." Samantha can't seem to get those words and that infectious melody out of her mind. What she doesn't quite understand about Andrew is how he can fake his way through confidence. She's always envied that. Its a strange night for Samantha as those thoughts run through her head. Laying on her chocolate colored leather, which has seen better days, the first breeze of spring passes over her body. She has candle burning to illuminate the dark room. The shadows it makes flicker across the living room walls and dance toward the paintings her friends made her a couple of years ago. Samantha's heart is still racing from the anxiety that she claims is bringing her down. Jamie and Amber have been waiting a couple of hours for her to show up. Wearing her new sleek black dress that she found on the discount rack at a Macy's store closing, and with freshly applied lipstick, Jamie looks over to Amber and says "Fuck Samantha. I'm so over this." Amber, wearing a pseudo red cowboy dress with white fringes hanging off the sleeves, quietly replies back "Seriously, fuck her."

Chapter 7: A summer day.

A breeze blows across the lawn. The grass is full and green, years of back breaking aeration have finally paid off. The blades of grass prick her feet as she crisscrosses her way across the lawn, avoiding the scattered bean bags and golf balls set up like land mines. She sees Andrew, wearing those new navy blue Paper Denim jeans she watched him try on during that trip they took to the Bay area. In his left hand he holds a half empty glass of sangria, his right hand is placed firmly on the lower back of his Marissa, his new fiance. Samantha has put it past her though, she's bigger than that. The sun hits the right side of Samantha's face as she lays in the rope hammock she help string up. Her eyes are closed and toes are pointed to the sky. Her head is filled with images of swirling colors while the thumping electro beats guide her the exotic images. The afternoon has been a reminder to the great things that she has in life. Today she's happy, today she's in love with the sun.

Chapter 6: Regrets

Samantha stares at a blank TV screen, the blue light bounces off her face. It is in these moments that she wonders what life is about. She wonders what she is doing here. It's been 3 long years and it hasn't gotten any easier. Under the glow of a television set she thinks about life. She thinks about what it could have been like, what it should have been like. She should have gone to school for something a little bit more practical than fashion design. She should have moved out to the glitzy west coast when she had the chance. She should have been by her fragile grandma's side those last few days. Mostly she should have said "I love you" to him long before he walked out on her. 

It's 8:25 on a saturday evening. Samantha sits alone at a table for two gazing into her raspberry mocha. Her first contact with anyone, on this typical saturday, came when the barista asked her if she'd prefer 1 or 2 espresso shots. Samantha chose 1 today; she doesn't need to stay up late tonight for anyone. There hasn't been anyone worth staying up late for since her split from Jacob. There have been a few boys here and there, even a few blind dates, but none have appealed to her. Samantha is wearing a light blue shirt skirt when a breeze hits her leg, sending a chill up her thigh to her chest. Its moments like this that make her feel like she's still alive. They make her yearn for the touch of a lover but she knows thats not much of an option tonight. She would settle though for a hello from someone at the coffee shop. Or maybe a smile from a cute boy walking by on the sidewalk. Right now is when she feels her loneliest, like she has no one around her. Tonight after she rolls into bed, and stares at her freshly shaven legs as they poke out of the boxers she's been wearing as pajama shorts for the last 2 years, she'll begin to wonder how much longer she can go on.

chapter 5: love

At 3:53pm its sunny out, and hot. Real hot. Samantha has been leaning against the brick building, built sometime in the booming 20s by a grain man whom later jumped off the roof, letting her back slowly begin to bake. She's been waiting for the past 25 minutes for the westbound 49 to take her from downtown back out to her clustered and claustrophobic studio apartment. Amongst the crowd of system analysts, aspiring engineers and paralegals she looks more like a club DJ. Samantha leans there with her eyes closed, messenger bag thrown over one shoulder, and oversized SONY headphones. Her headphones have been a godsend and help her drown out the outside world. "Love, love will tear us apart, again" blasts in her ears. It helps to heal her broken heart. She slowly begins to realize that she hates this city. 

Chapter 4: Blinded By The Light

The sun poured onto her face, causing her to pull down the sun visor. The way the light hit his face, she thought, made him look like a British actor. A tall, stoic man, with high cheek bones and frosted hair. She loved him, or at least tried to convince herself that she did. She squinted her eyes and strained to figure out what he was thinking. She could see a drop of sweat roll down his cheek. It was moments like this when she thought he was perfect.

chapter 3: middle class blues.

The light is hitting my eyes. Its 3:14 in afternoon. There is some movie about a popular folk artist who went to the same University as me on TV. Naturally, I'm intrigued. Of course though they don't use real names, and keep things semi-secretive. In all actuality, its like a semi-fictional theatrical version of a 2 hour documentary, done by a semi-overrated director, that I originally saw on public television a few years ago. I'm sort of confused by it and totally engulfed in it.

A year ago I was on a train, heading to out to a rainy coast, helping one of my best friends move. Essentially, looking back on it, I was really helping them get out of my life. Its kinda sad if you take time to think about it. Sometimes I think I about it, but i kinda try not to. I guess thought people are only a telephone call away, right? Right.

Its now 3:35 my hair is still wet from a shower i took almost 2 hours ago. Fuck humidity. I've been thinking about films, about wanting to be a filmmaker when I was 18, I was chalk full of ambition back in those days. But whose to say I'm not full of ambition now? I think it kinda depends on what type of ambition you're talking about. Right now I wanna buy some new clothes.

So I sit, with a new song spinning in my head.

"I was born by a lover that I never touched.
And I saw the sun falling down on his love.
If you ever come to California we'll talk it through.
And fall in love, fall in love, fall in love.
My dreams got handed out one at a time.
I don't recall anything that kept you in line.
The movies we played, all of the hollywood screens.
Hey you wrote that script just for me.
To all of the enemies you didn't respect.
All of your handy work had gone deaf.
I'll be here faster than them.
The turntables will set you free.."

But that song is pretty fucking terrible. Except for the line "turntables will set you free." Thats because its kinda a play off of a Lifter Puller song. And they totally rule.