I didn’t pack a coat or jacket
Just a flannel shirt
Three t-shirts
Jeans
Tennis shoes
And two pairs of socks
So by seven that night
I was wearing
Everything

The fire was more for cooking
Than for basking
So I crowded close
With the other
Smarter campers
To keep my front half warm
While my back half frosted over

Instead of ghost stories
We talked about Vegas
Swapping tales of big wins
Bad beats
Negotiations with strippers
And staggered drunken ramblings
Like so many fish that were
This big

The heat in the camper was broken
The blankets like suggestions
I got up around midnight
Sat in my car until I stopped shaking
Then drove my cold ass home

“The black room took us like a cave” – line from a poem by Anne Sexton

We’d been having drinks on the porch but the rain was coming down in torrents.
We moved slowly, intuitively towards the den, like animals going to the pond at sunset.
Something was odd, off center, cold, but I was distracted by my heart’s ache.
Like an Alzheimer sufferer, my heart daily broke at sunset.
The pain again felt freshly inflicted: “I don’t want you in my life any longer.”
Fiona was talking about her suicide plans again.
I knew some day she really would take those pills, spill that wine.
James wasn’t working to cheer her this time.
He scared me by talking about his own proposed date with his car exhaust.
The black room took us like a cave.

Maryellen Gradys last blog post..LORD, THERE’S JUST ONE SET OF FOOTPRINTS THANKS TO SARAH PALIN

I went to the riverside this afternoon
With my trusty notebook and lovely parasol
Strolling along casually in stunning maroon
With a red red rose in my dark dark hair

The brilliance of the shinning sun
Reflected clearly on the calm surface of the river
Like the lovely blood red rose in my bun
Appeared strikingly against my black locks

I sat solitarily on the riverside bench
As the sun continued its relentless marching
Scribbling random thoughts aimlessly in romantic French
Seemingly oblivious to everything and everyone that surrounded me

But the red rose in my locks
Reveals my secret as clearly as the brilliant sun
Cos I’m not here by chance, the fickle lady
But for you, stranger you.