Monday, April 27, 2009

How Does Your Garden Grow?

I sat there in my chucks and sundress. I thought about Justin Timberlake and the fact he's so cute. And that was the only thought I had about the man. He looked at me under the brim of his hat, and asked, do you wear contacts? No, Jesus gave me pretty eyes. He put his hand on my leg. I jerked like I had been set on fire. You know, we can say, say, say, say, but it's our reaction. Always.

Listen, how is it true a girl like me hasn't been fishin'? I will tell you why. I have been on good intentioned "fishin" trips. Layed in a boat, sat on a dock, line dropped. The man folk have disguised this as, er, snipe huntin' trip. Honest to goodness. One trip I had taken with a boy I ended up with out any tan lines. Another time, just a really good make out session. I think that's it. You wanna go on my boat? Yes, Mr. Hendrix. Please.

I'm drained today.

If you're such an open book, how come you're so hard to read?

I know this next line, will be admired, and appreciated for the truth it contains. Is it acceptable to put yourself into debt to further yourself? When do the risks outweigh the reality?

I need to sit on the back porch and do shots. That'll give me clarity. I shoot straight liquor, hold on, I'm adding some juice for you.

I would love to hide under the refrigerator with the dust bunnies.

Again, is what's good for the goose, good for the gander?

Go ahead, tell me your work schedule. Let me feel unintentional.

The director tried his best. Frazzled. Pointing, and shouting. I threw the bottle up against the wall, and threw a 5 star fit. He yanked the magnolia out of my hair, and grabbed my wrist. "You know what?" "If you ever show your ass like that again, I, I, just don't know what I'm gonna do!"

(Can Josh draw me a map to cut through Savannah to see you?)

(I can taste the mimosa's right now.)

My eyes were like daggers when I sat in the easy chair. I lifted my legs over the side.

He said, "Girl, I don't know what to do with you." I laughed. My response? "Son, you ain't gotta do nothin' with me." "Why do you buck like a horse when all I want is to hold you?"

I looked at him and said, "You can't cage a wild bird."

I started my bathwater. Sat on the edge of the tub. I said bible verses out loud, and told secrets to the ghosts in the room. Ghosts of lovers. Past and present. I quoted books I have memorized, and knew exactly the feeling Shakespeare tried to convey through Mecrutio.

You may have bought me satin sheets, but I wouldn't dare lay in them.

The dogs prefer them, cool to their skin.

Back to my lack of value. Or what I create. I didn't want to walk out of the house today. Champ told me I didn't have to go. We sat and had a discussion on economics, and he encouraged me to get out. I said, just one more cup of coffee? No, there's doughnuts to be made lady.

Point taken.

Maybe I will. Just take the plunge. Like those old Crystal Light commercials?

My circumstance. Mine. When I grow proud of something, I lose it. Examine it. Inventory how it made me feel. You? Seem to move right along. Lost your job? Oh well, let me find someone to sleep with so I don't have to struggle. Isn't that a sign of struggle? Holding on to whatever comes your way? How come my struggle is so obvious? Isn't the above a sign of self destruction? No, it looks healthy. Bc, society tells us so. The normal is the ugly. Word.

(Cue to Common rapping.)

Scared yet? You should be.

Daylight come and me wanna go home.

Do you believe in signs? Not the movie. M. Night, Mr. Gibson, please step out of my spotlight. Mr. Phoenix, you can stay right there. I like you. And your beard. And I love your rapping. You remind me so much of myself after too much moonshine. Come here, let me adjust your sweat band. There, all better.

I'm gonna call this lady Ms. D. She is fabulous. Not everyone is nice to her, bc, she's different. She takes patience to talk to. I love her. Before she left me, she said, can I tell you a story?

Of course you can. All ears.

Sweetheart, I had woke up with a thought this morning, and I can't stop thinking about it. (She's an older lady, and absolutely has her wits) I received a letter in the mail, (tell me more) it was from a man that my husband and I had been friends with for years. She started crying. (I grabbed the tissues) He had been divorced. He never remarried. She said, as she took off her sunglasses, the letter said how he had been in love with her over the years. I just hugged her neck. Paula, he's dead. He died before the letter got to me. The tears started pouring out. She said, he had loved me all this time. And he told me, and is now dead. What do I do? (She is a widow)I told her to look for closure. She might as well slapped my face.

Can you imagine having feelings for someone and not telling them?


I pretty much felt busted. (sans Jessi Jeffrey solo)

I don't know which part grabbed me the most.

A. This man loved her, and kept it to himself.

B. He died before she got to respond.

So, I don't know if you got to read yesterday's post, but it seems like a genius follow up to what transpired today.

And as soon as I was driving back from Waffle House, that song was playing.

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