“I yam what I yam,”
Said the dog to the man
When he begged for a bone
& wouldn’t leave him alone

The man knew he shouldn’t 
Enable his pet,
But his spots were so sweet, 
And his tongue was so wet

How could he not
Give into that face
Who loved unconditionally
And brightened the place?

The owner knew better,
That feeding the beast
Would create further problems
(His pleas ‘d never cease)

But the dog was so grateful!
As he waggled his tail
and offered the man
A soft place to cuddle, and wail

We are what we are
And we do what we do 
For the ones that we love
(And to get ourselves through)

And though it’s not helpful 
In the long run,
Immediate gratification
Is just Too Much Fun

November 14, 2020

A black and white graphic hangs on the wall of the Center Healthy Sex. A wide, paint brush circle in black with the words, “Chop wood, carry water.” A simple Buddhist reminder to get back to basics, take it one step at a time and do first things first. It’s the only way out, really — of bad habits, unhealthy relationships, less-than-stellar care and feeding of yourself. When I was there in LA, unpacking my character defects, that image kept me grounded. As in Maslow’s hierarchy, take care of survival needs first, then relational, then spiritual.

This morning I awoke to the sound of rainfall. I was transported to the family room floor in my childhood home, where I’d lay along side the sliding glass door with my pink blankie and contemplate the drops on the glass. Such a simple, peaceful thing, the rain. And I realized how much the same I am. Though I know I am growing.

After spending nearly 30 years in relationship with a man who was always up in his head, never his hands, or his heart, I was desperate for touch, for connection. My first stage of healing came to me in a most basic form. A partner who revels in scents and flavors, in textures and sounds, in the simple beauty of the rain.

But he is primitive. And I am evolving. He has fed my body and brought me from the brink of starvation. But I am climbing the ladder upward and I yearn for more.

I don’t know what his timeline for evolution looks like, nor, as I’ve learned in recovery, can I manage it for him.

But my transformation from fire and stick to empathy, connection and divinity is swirling within me and I must not get in my own way.

For now, I’ll listen to the rain and ask for guidance on how to chop the wood, where to carry the water.

(Title borrowed from REM. I hope they don’t mind)

They asked me where I was from. I answered suburbia. And what brings you to LA? The quest for truth? Like why do we look in the wrong places, the wrong faces for live and acceptance?  Why do we doubt that what was created was true?

The receptionist looked at me askance. I guess they’d never met someone like me before. Someone who was broken and put back together with such fine lines of.glue they weren’t visible to the naked eye. It was only when you got close enough, stuck around long enough, that the cracks were revealed. From afar it appeared that everything about me was intact. That was my skill, my magic power. To keep my real self, my real wounds hidden. So that you’d feel hopeful. And less alone.

Two weeks ago, 
out of the blue, you declared that, "We could still be 
friends," 
And that we'd, "Never actually gotten back together anyway," after the most recent 
break up, (they've been happening so much more frequently lately).
Silly me, 
I should've known better, than to un-steel my heart, 
after the last 
time. 
(And the time before that). I should have pulled away from your kindness 
and 
your gentle touch. But just like before, I fell back in. Again. distracted 
Then last night,  
it was I who was 
mean
joking about something dear to you. Was I trying to hurt you? I apologized 
too late. 
I am tired. Too tired. It is time to get off of this beautiful, magical
ride.

October 11, 2020

“i can hear your smile today,”
he said to me this morning
this man, who makes me feel seen, whole, female

i feel that way without a man, too,
but isn’t it so nice to know
that someone out there is listening

You watch
as I navigate
my confection
Tongue, swirling
Taking in 
all the sweetness
my fingers grasping 
the cone, 
as my other hand, 
brushes away 
a strand of hair 
from 
my mouth.

Her excitement upon spying the Wonder Woman skirt was enough 
But when she noticed the nail polish, too, her glee spilled over
Into my heart.

Spring and summer and fall
Have passed before me 
like the slowest moving train

I sit at the crossing 
anticipate the all clear 
I’ve never felt so old

The radio plays only static
The window breaths only stillness
I read the thermometer and wait

What if?
[We all]
Drove a Subaru?
Studied the Torah?
Ate vegan cheese?
Prayed 4x a day?
What if:
[We all]
Loved our collards?
Read the Constitution?
Got on our knees?
Asked, Como estas?
What if:
Race and religion 
were as fluid as gender?
What if kindness and compassion 
were all that was taught?
Where would that take us?
What elevation! 
Humans,
Being, 
Human,
Not humans,
Being bought.
What if
We cared for our brothers,
Regardless of color?
Raised up our sisters,
Regardless of size?
What if?
We taught all our children 
We’re one and the same!
We can weep in collective,
Remember our names!
What if?
This world we’ve been granted 
Could reach out and teach us
Arm in arm, not versus,
Is how we’ll survive?

That house wasn’t mine,
I borrowed it for a while,
from a friend.
Well, she wasn’t my friend, 
Just some lady from Craigslist.
A furnished sublet.
Meant to be temporary
The closets were huge 
There was space 
for contemplation.
I decided to stay.
while my marriage unravelled
And my wings unfurled.
I didn’t have to buy a thing, 
Not even a can opener.
There were two cows on the wall
with hooks for coats
They made me laugh.
So much more than I had before. 
In the house that was mine.

Sept. 5, 2020