more meandering; 81912

Published August 19, 2012 by April Fox

russian spiced
with a splash of
milk and too much
rickie lee is tinny through the
speakers here, but i am
too lazy to move
six inches
and put a record on.

i wish it was raining
(it just started raining as i typed that-
oddly enough)
babes tucked into cozy beds and i in mine
wrapped tight in the presence
of everything safe

i tell him, when he’s gone-
i miss your fuzzy body-
the house is too quiet now, the hush is negative
if i move too quickly
i might be
sucked in
and die.

there is only my breathing here
and that’s unreliable
at best.

fall is creeping in, painting the edges of summer
with cool mornings and nights that feel like
pulling blankets up
and slamming windows closed-
but not just yet.

the trees put up a valiant fight but they are losing
ground, collapsing
one by one
leaves give up and fade
and it’s like seeing them
through glasses smudged
with dirt and tears

i need a time machine
a rewind button
back to sun, to long lazy days
lying in the grass with one arm
thrown over my eyes
keeping watch over the children
by the sounds of their laughter
passing by

when i am scared, he holds my head
cradled in his lap
and brushes my hair back
with his fingers
till i sleep.

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