Thursday, March 31, 2011

Where My Line Breaks At?

This, was going to be a poem, but apparently blogspot no longer believes in line breaks. So, until I figure out how to fix it, I won't be posting. Not that I was before.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Fruit Walks Into a Bar

Lemon leans heavily on the arm of her husband
Willing him to be somewhere else, yet alone
Avocado in the corner with shiftless eyes
Hands sticky with shame in Lemon's afterglow
Apple close by banana's side constantly questioning
What her side of the fruit-bowl is like
Cherry bounces from blueberry to blueberry
Oozing juice in her wake
The mirror behind the bottles of liquor reveal
Grape-purple stains beneath her eyes
Pineapple and Raspberry at the bar order another round
For the single girls
They are so getting a new profile picture for Facebook tonight
Strawberry hasn’t yet found her identity in a man
Or her final place in the network


Just because I'm no longer on Facebook doesn't mean I don't know what's going on there. Apparently a meme is afoot among the ladies to post a fruit as their status message, each item of fruit indicating a relationship status. You know, in case people can't actually read their actual relationship status. This meme is spread by a message that concludes: "The bra game reached TV, lets get this one to do the same, and show everyone how powerful women are." Oh what will we NOT do to get on TV? Also, please note how the former "breast cancer awareness" message has been changed to "the bra game."
What I really find amusing and horrifying simultaneously is that "I'm 'the other one'" and "wish I were single," are both options. And how about the desperation inherent in the cry of grape "want to be married"? Isn't that really all of us, but must we broadcast this to all of our cyber-neighbors.
Also, I want everyone to know that I don't think it's wrong, just silly. And what is Facebook for, but to be silly. It is, when used correctly, merely a form of entertainment. I don't think you have to be serious all the time.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

March the Second

After year-long weeks of bitter chill
Of numb fingers clattering over keyboards
Of face-skin indistinguishable from mist soaked grey
Of fog ever one step ahead
The sky has broken and heaven shines through
Over cumulus and under dirty gray stratus
March spills over in white-gold glory
Beams curl like fingers in cotton candy
I stand cold still, hopeful, expectant


I had a dry spell. That's all.