Tight black ball
warm, curled against my hip
tail twitching in dreams.
Serious affection or just fluff?
It’s all the same to me.
I am dissolving
melting
unraveling
falling
blinking
broken
ready
for
rest.
It’s all just excuses,
you’d say.
Sure. Blame me like always.
Like her feelings are an attack
somehow.
Maybe there’s something
you could do,
to acknowledge hurt and pain,
instead of defenses,
show adoration again.
Your words cannot offend.
I don’t depend on faulty interdiction.
Sometimes encouragement sounds like doubt.
Mona Lisa smile betrays my conviction:
Sure knowing I will transcend.
Boom box boy
bouncing to the smoke pit
announcing your existence-
loudly.
Stride on
Caught in a lost decade
I’m grateful as that music fades.
She loves you
Diamonds in the air
Twinkling in
Street lights’ silence.
Just a snow shovel’s scraping
In the distance.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Leaf buds, bursting hope.
Unfolding pastel visions
Relief.
She loves you
Summer green
Heat hovers in the air
Living breathing furnace.
And you know that can’t be bad.
Golden light illuminates scarlet visions.
I will never say you’re beautiful
I’ll be your friend forever.
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Here are my notes from Diana Gabaldon’s Managing a Mob workshop:
![20191027_124025[1]](https://shawnbird.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/20191027_1240251-e1572317058648.jpg?w=303&h=447)
Diana Gabaldon SiWC 2019