Sunday, August 9, 2009

Sorry, that mailbox is full


Said the recording ...
"try again later"

My inbox clicks full of junk mail.  
My mailbox is full of medical bills. 

feeling a little disconnected, disconcerted even
perhaps just riddled with hormones as the moon and the month would schedule it that way
 it's all just process repeats as the broken record skips another beat in my brain

I need ten minutes of your time
...my time
just 
...time

leave a message.....

be something other than what's become of me, in this darkly lit room
looking for a reason as I hang up phone....no message
again

there's nothing more to bite into since I've already bitten off more than I care to chew 
in my new not so skinny yet, somewhat skinnier jeans.  

cover your mouth! she yelled. don't put another thing in it! 
... a wise tone as she licked her lips and fingers of day old barbecue sauce.

while the piper has come piping there isn't much to report in the way of glamour in our upcoming conversation yet to be scheduled at your earliest convenience
it's all shadows beneath rainbows that have been in hiding
there is no sparkle or glitter here
just crushed prescription pills, unpaid bar bills and disgruntled employees

yet the moon still shows up

beets and charcoal, fake flowers and ponytails
shiny, second hand earrings kissed with perfume
eye color aligned with stars and days of the week

yet, weaker still

running from a half crowded room, screaming 911 inside
i went searching for a beat to dance and became scared of the music, the fashion and the dealers with their lines that were stale and unwanted

light, dimly lit 
because the sun is feverishly chasing the rainbow which is hiding beneath the shadows of the staircase just outside the chapel door
waiting for an answer

I couldn't leave you messages even if I tried
your mailbox is always full
and I'm tired




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