The Poetry Marathon

Hand snaking through
the wind flowing through the car window
Traffic has been light
Moving @75 up 75
The semis keeping to their lane

Heading to another dr's visit in Atlanta. The local quack scared Crissee with his
stoned eyes, trembling hands
So on the road to Dr Schmidt
To get my bones to behave
I'm 12, what do I know?
The new Super Mario Bros game looks good. Whistles.

The cast will come off. The pins will come out. The cast gets put back on.
Good it was starting to stink.
So heavy.
Back on the road home
Every
Bump
Shake
Brake
Speed up
Slow down hits my knee with the same level of Ihatedoctors

Weeks pass and it's time to hit 75 again

Hand in the flowing wind, truckers wave to me.

This time
The cast comes off
For good

I don't recognize my own
leg.
It's still attached to me, I feel it but it's alien.
Purple bruises, black stitched half absorbed, streaks of gooey yellow iodine, two long red lines marking my flesh.
The pin holes
marked now with two stitches each mark the skin where they erupted my skin.

It's been three decades since I was last there,
up in your arms
The world was kept away
I was safe
Loved
Loving
Everything was new and bright
Including me

You picked up when I cried
when I laughed
when I needed you more than a doll
Your heartbeat, against mine
The scent of Old Spice and soap after a shower
whiskers brushing against my cheek
Sparking off my nerves,
Alive
Loved

I don't remember remember the first time your carried me, I don't remember the last time
or
marked it as the last

If I knew, I'd of asked to be held a little longer, tighter, safer, for a while longer to last this lifetime.

No hug carried the same feel but the love, always there,
as I grew
too big to be held
.
It's been three decades since I was last up in your arms,
my safe space for always
long after you've been gone.

Drama drives us forward.

Keeping my head down
I run into everything
Your business ain't mine but
Drama drives us forward along an edge.

I hear the gossip and stories
I even passed on a few of my own
Your business is now my business
Drama drives us forward

To tell our tales, we don't bother
With the burning ears or hearts
We make their business our business
Drama drives us forward.

It's harmless, we excuse
Ignoring the pain we speak into existence
Their business is the only business we have
Drama drives us forward,
Over the edge.

I stop noticing or caring about the edge of the guard railing digging into my thigh about 20 minutes ago.

The wind tries to push me backwards. I lean into Zephyr.

The water breaks along the sand and the whooshing rhythm fills my ears.

Gulls crying for a Cheeto percuss the beat.

Ants moving from shady spot to shady spot, the sun beating down on all.

One ant is dragging her toddler ant towards the water.

My eyes focus on the tiny pink bathing suit and the blonde curls.

Not ants.

I feel small again. My thighs start to ache again.

The wind tries to push me back. I let him.

I spend too much of my breath wanting something I don’t have.

I wish I had less of you.

You crashed into me and I can’t get rid of you.

I don’t want you.
I don’t want you to want me.

I don’t want your love.
I don’t want you to love me.

I don’t want your body.
I don’t want you to want mine.

I don’t want to hear your voice.
I don’t want you listening for mine.

I don’t want to touch you.
I don’t want your touch.

I don’t want you in my life.
I don’t want your life in mine.

I yearn to be free of you.

You.

YOU

I
contain
the Universe
within.

I am starstuff, the fires of the sun
burn along
every nerve and flash of thought.

With every breath
I steal the air from your chest.

I am rooted to the earth
with each step,
Gaia lives in my hardened bones and teeth.

With every pulse of my heart
the waters of my peoples flow filling my vessel with history and passion/compassion.

Elements dance
among the stars and my being
to the cosmic rhythm.

I am the universe,
the universe aware.