I think of you when it snows, because that’s what the sky was doing the last time I saw you—the last time I felt your warmth—-that was back then, when I thought I’d always feel you. Little pieces of whiteness falling gracefully from the heavens, collecting in your hair, clinging to pine trees and covering the tired backstreets of our hometown, back then, this pale city was ours for the taking.
We were becoming one, one with the sky and the ground, as our bodies clung together, our eyes pure and childlike, as we shared a common breath that fused into a cloud of steam, immaculate and white, it felt like eternity, like that moment would last forever, as if time stood still, but time stops for nothing and takes pity on no one. Life is a dissolving vapor, love a dream.
I can hear the passage of time in the strange silence that accompanies a fresh layer of snow, I recall the sound of your voice, the way you listened to my stories, the little pieces of you that still inhabit my soul, your smile, your laughter, your eyes, how you moved through the ether, giving shape to this void we call life.
I love you in that place where there is no time or space, in that mini death between heartbeats, in the stillness that separates each breath, only you have the power to take me to that place where eroticism and ecstasy collide.
Is time real, or man made, is it linear or circular? Time without you is meaningless—-I walk through the vacant snowy streets like a ghost, invisible as white on white. Is this real? Am I real? I fade into you——-
“Don’t you believe in love? Sure, I believe in love, I just don’t believe in people.”
People will let you down, they’ll offer up a thousand promises and then forsake you as they play dumb, as they stare past you with those faux naive eyes——- People are fickle, love is temporary, time is fleeting, —-lipstick stains while french kisses fade—love letters are scribbled in disappearing ink
yet love is always good. I didn’t say that it’s always worth it, but it’s good while it lasts.
Love, it brings out the best and the worst in us all. It has caused some to take their own life, while others in a jealous rage take another’s life, and some will sacrifice everything for a believed to be one and only———it’ll leave you with blood on your hands, it’ll lead you down dark blind alleys, leave ya stupefied broken and adrift—-
yet love is good. I didn’t say that it’s always worth it, but it’s good while it lasts.
It’ll make ya feel invincible, immortal, it’ll pull back the drapes covering your parched heart and let in all the colors you never knew existed, it’ll rock your world like a shot of tequila burning the back of your throat——-causing your eyes to water as your face contorts into a squinted fist, as you let out an involuntary “Ahhhhhhhh”—-
yet love is always good. I didn’t say that it’s always worth it, but it’s good while it lasts.
It’ll come to you exulted, wearing the robes of royalty, rose pedals line its path——- only to reduce you into a beggar, a panhandler, a homeless heart aimlessly wandering the bleakest of city streets. Just when you think you’ve figured it all out, you’ll realize you’ve been chasing a mirage, you’ve been kneeling before a charlatan, duped by a chameleon. You’ve drank the potion, taken the cure, only to find that the miracle drug is snake oil.
yet love is always good. I didn’t say that it’s always worth it, but it’s good while it lasts.
She speaks to you in a slow deliberate voice, a whisper, so precise, so careful, like a priest giving a crowd of strangers a eulogy for someone who’ll never be seen, heard from or touched again. And, that’s how this thing called love works. A hundred years from now, who will know, who will care, who will miss you?——
yet love is always good. I didn’t say that it’s always worth it, but it’s good while it lasts.
“Don’t you believe in love? Sure, I believe in love, I just don’t believe in people.”
It’s the kind of love reminiscent of a house that’s been neglected and is now ghost infested. . Like a room no longer dusted, every surface has lost it’s shine and luster. No one has paid attention to the accumulation of times tiny cruelties. Things have gone messy, unsightly, rundown and tired——entropy, a law of physic’s leading me to loneliness.
The floor is stamped by a stampede of scuff marks across its hardwood planks. It’s as if the inhabitants had walked in endless circles never reaching a place of compromise. The windows now clouded by years of harsh weather . There’s no longer a way to see out, nor peer in, it’s as if the house has lost its vision—a dark place of shadows and gloom. And, if the eyes are a mirror to the soul, then this room should be bloodshot and stained blue.
She left her finger prints on my door knobs, her dirty dishes fill my sink, her wrinkled clothes on the floor, yet the passenger side of the bed is always neatly made up, not so much as an indentation leaning to my side. No matter how hard you clean a tomb, it’s still a place that reeks of death.
I once read that before a big battle, civil war solders would sew their name onto the back of their shirt collars—-along with the regiment to which they belonged. I’ve tattooed the same on my heart, cause with its last beat, I want someone to know it once belonged to someone——somewhere.
The wind whistles through the cracks in our walls. The fireplace has only fine ash from a fire that’s long ago gone cold.
Bad things have befallen this room. “To be perfectly honest, I can’t live like this.” Such mean things we screamed at one another. Honesty is overrated, please tell me nice things even if they’re a stone-cold lie. A temporary lie is better than an irrevocable truth.
A belly laugh is better than an orgasm. I’m not talking about a giggle, a snicker, or a leisure guffaw—no I’m talking about a drop to your knees, fall on your back, tears streaming down your cheeks, face twisted into contortions, uncontrolled howling, floor pounding, rib splitting, muscle contracting hysteria. Although many of these physical gyrations are quiet similar to someone experiencing an orgasm, a belly laugh does not lead to accidental pregnancies, broken hearts or STD’s. If they could bottle the stuff, it would fly off the shelf like squirting flowers, exploding golf balls and handshake buzzers—–
What’s even better yet, is when you’re laughing so hard that you forget what you’re laughing about, and this causes you to laugh even harder about laughing at nothing. Or, how bout that little chortle that gets out of control at the most inappropriate time, such as a funeral, or a court appearance, or during an intimate moment. Unexpectedly, that innocent chuckle goes from being a suppressed snicker into a full blown crack up. Why fight it, go ahead and give into the pandemonium, it’s sure to break up the boredom. Come on, allow yourself to let go. Embrace the madness, the delirium and the ecstasy that comes with accepting the horror, humor and pointlessness of it all. Meaningless laughter is nirvana, its like watching god sit on a Whoopi cushion—-a holy Whoopi cushion—-ya-ought of seen the look on his face…
The joke is on you, it’s called life. It’s in the darkness, the light, the broken, the frozen, the holy men and hooligans, grifters, grafters, carnival barkers, bonkers, brokers, bankers, swindlers, smokers, jokers, jugglers and joggers (I was going for a little Dr Sues humor there, rim shot please!). Our only defense is to offer up a quick wit because funny is everywhere—that is, if you’re looking in the right places. To prove this point, I double dog dare ya to watch an episode of the Three Stooges, there’s just something hilarious about someone getting hit on the head with a hammer. Or, who could forget Jackie Gleason and the Honeymooners, “Bang zoom—-To the moon Alice”.
Humor is about letting go of control. It’s about going in for the kill, finding an opening and saying something everyone knows, but most are afraid to admit. Humor is based on stripping away all the crap we accept as normal and shining a light into the darkest corners of the psyche—this is where the clowns, jesters and harlequins live. Comedy comes to life when you drop all false pretenses and see things for what they are—-or for what they ain’t. Somewhere buried beneath our hidden flaws and secret doubts resides the absurdity of it all. Life is to short and uncertain to be glum and uptight. Jobs are stupid, sex is weird, marriage a joke, politics a circus, religion absurd, racism, sexism and biases make us out to be fools. We’re all just passing through—so I pray that in god’s good time all will be forgotten and forgiven—–in the meantime I choose laughter.
Life is a series of punchlines waiting to be delivered. It’s all about timing. Suddenly a door will open and you can drop that bomb that makes everyone see the insanity we are swimmin in e.g. What is the last thing a fish becomes aware of? Water. Remember this, if you have to explain a joke, then it’s not funny—if you have to justify your life, then you’re hanging around the wrong people—-”Laugh and world laughs with you, cry and”—-well you can see where I’m going with this line of reasoning. Find reasons to laugh—laugh at yourself—laugh at friends—laugh to keep from crying…..Open the door on that tiny clown car and watch all the funnyness come tumbling out.
Humor is life’s natural coping mechanism. It helps us through the loneliness, the fool heartedness and blatant futility of it all. Laughter levels the playing field, it reveals how we are all more alike than different, how we’re all fighting similar battles, fumbling towards love and companionship, bailing water from our sinking ships.
“Now, listen up ladies and germs.”
There’s many reasons to cross a road, but I’ll leave you with this one, “Why did the chicken cross the road?”
Please feel free to insert your own punch line here.
My answer—Because it’s funnier on the other side.Cluck Cluck—
