Saturday, November 27, 2010
hamster wheels
i know better than to expect change in anyone else. people don't change, circumstances do and the person can move within that. what is it about us that makes us crave another just to try to change them? i made a mistake. tried to tempt fate go back in time. for this i will be plagued by what if. i made the decision. one i can't take back, but to end it now, even though feelings will be hurt and i run the risk of being hated by one i used to love, it's what must be done. for a year we tried, and failed each other, and now we must move on.
Monday, November 08, 2010
November 30/30 #1
This is kinda all over the place
Shelf-life (Nov. 1/30)
Stoic sits on a shelf
Aged with ferocious unfocused eyes
He stills truth
Steals time
Tucks it between his teeth
Bites down on the word sissy
Once worn as his name
Wiped away with punch line fists
Sensitivity decorating the floor
Swept under rugs
By wayward domestic dogs
Lapping up what’s left
Confrontationally straight forward
I am angry with those starters of wars
Hijacking my safety
And hallelujah tears have no place on my landscape
No claim to this face
Because he, my father
And he can’t smell pussy on my breath
He reminds me daily that I am no man
His strong provider legs took it out on my chest
He burned the fruitcake cooking in my mother’s nurturing
I refuse to hold the softness of her
She doesn’t understand that decency
Gets you gone
Good posture
Only puts your face bulls eye level for blows
Ass kicked in locker room, street corners or alleys
He reminds me I am no man
Can’t smell pussy on my breath
So he makes it my middle name
My mother’s baby boy
Wrapped in soft, sensitivity and good posture
Can’t live in the skin she wrapped me in
And the world won’t accept me
Unless I’m hard
So I’ll be stoic
Put my emotions on lock down
Place myself on a shelf
Out of reach
Until I expire
Shelf-life (Nov. 1/30)
Stoic sits on a shelf
Aged with ferocious unfocused eyes
He stills truth
Steals time
Tucks it between his teeth
Bites down on the word sissy
Once worn as his name
Wiped away with punch line fists
Sensitivity decorating the floor
Swept under rugs
By wayward domestic dogs
Lapping up what’s left
Confrontationally straight forward
I am angry with those starters of wars
Hijacking my safety
And hallelujah tears have no place on my landscape
No claim to this face
Because he, my father
And he can’t smell pussy on my breath
He reminds me daily that I am no man
His strong provider legs took it out on my chest
He burned the fruitcake cooking in my mother’s nurturing
I refuse to hold the softness of her
She doesn’t understand that decency
Gets you gone
Good posture
Only puts your face bulls eye level for blows
Ass kicked in locker room, street corners or alleys
He reminds me I am no man
Can’t smell pussy on my breath
So he makes it my middle name
My mother’s baby boy
Wrapped in soft, sensitivity and good posture
Can’t live in the skin she wrapped me in
And the world won’t accept me
Unless I’m hard
So I’ll be stoic
Put my emotions on lock down
Place myself on a shelf
Out of reach
Until I expire
Adventures in Cheyenne
1
This always happens. Why can’t I keep my hands to myself? Who am I kidding? I always have a choice. Always. I just don’t always make the right choices. It was her confident strut that did it. Women who walk like they own their feet are definitely my weakness. And I’ll be damned if they don’t know it. As much as I enjoy being caught in this down pour of beautiful and confident women, even I know seeing four of them at the same time, is asking for trouble. I’m sorry did I say asking? Begging. Begging for trouble.
“Call for you Cheyenne.” Denise screams over the intercom.
“You don’t have to yell Denise, you are quite loud enough. I almost fell out of my chair. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry, I’m still trying to get used to this thing. Cheyenne, it doesn’t make sense I can see you from my desk. I’m looking at you right now! An Intercom? If you ask me, it’s pretentious and pointless.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Your caller is still holding. Oh, wait.” She hits the intercom button and shouted, “Your caller is still holding.”
“Very funny.” I said, shaking my head.
“Thanks.” She smirks loudly over the intercom.
I answered the call and heard a voice I hadn’t heard in a while. Instantly I remembered the dress I designed for her. The way it hung on her delicate curves. Then the way it lay in a pile on my bedroom floor. I remember Mrs. Angelica Moreland and there’s nothing angelic about her. Our last encounter didn’t end badly; it just should have never started to begin with.
“What can I do for you today, Mrs. Moreland?”
“Mrs. Moreland? Are we back to formal now?” She asked.
“Business is formal, and since you are calling my office it must be about business. So what can I do for you?”
“Fine, I’ll play. Some business yes, but I wanted to catch up, you know, see how you’ve been. So, how are you?”
“I’m great. Building my own business has had its challenges but I’m holding my own. Lots of orders, so many in fact, that I had to hire a bigger staff.” I said proudly.
“That’s wonderful Cheyenne! I have to admit part of why I called you was because of the design you did for Jasmine. I saw the pictures in Elle. The dress was amazing. The way it fit her body, every part of her perfectly, I knew you spent a lot of time on her design. So, how was she?” She asked in a lecherous tone.
“I enjoyed working with her.” I replied completely professional.
“I bet you did.”
“Did you call for a real reason Angelica? I’m a little busy this morning.” I tried to sound as impatient as possible.
“ Fine. You’re no fun today. I need your services. Well the ones you provide when making beautiful clothing.”
“Those are the only services I offer, Angelica.”
“That’s disappointing, but I’m sure I can change your mind.” She cooed.
“Seriously, please, what do you want?”
“We’d be safer if we talked about my needs instead of what I want.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It had been a year since I last saw Angelica, and she hasn’t changed a bit.
“ I need,” she continued, “an outfit for a charity event in May. I remember you need six months but surely four will suffice, plus I’m a longstanding customer.”
“I really do need the full six months. I have several designs I’m working on already. I don’t think I’ll be able to fit you in. Maybe you should come check out the designs I’ve already completed. I’m sure you will find something you like.”
“I don’t want a dress you made to fit some other woman’s body. I want you to make one for my body, my frame, my curves. If I wanted it off the rack I’d have gone to Macy’s!” she boomed.
“And if you’d have wanted me to make it you’d have called me two months ago. I can’t take another job right now. I’m sorry.” I motioned to Denise to interrupt me so I could excuse myself off the phone, but she kept putting her finger to her ear like she couldn’t hear me while pointing at the damn intercom. Note to self get rid of the fucking intercom.
“Cheyenne, please? Come see me. We can work something out.” She pleaded.
“How’s your husband Angelica?” I asked in a surly tone.
“Out of town, like I like him. Will you come see me?” She asked.
“ I’ll think about it. It was good hearing from you Angelica.” I hung up before she could reply.
I didn’t have time for this, but knowing Angelica the way I did, I knew she’d keep calling until I caved or she’d show up. That wasn’t going to happen.
This always happens. Why can’t I keep my hands to myself? Who am I kidding? I always have a choice. Always. I just don’t always make the right choices. It was her confident strut that did it. Women who walk like they own their feet are definitely my weakness. And I’ll be damned if they don’t know it. As much as I enjoy being caught in this down pour of beautiful and confident women, even I know seeing four of them at the same time, is asking for trouble. I’m sorry did I say asking? Begging. Begging for trouble.
“Call for you Cheyenne.” Denise screams over the intercom.
“You don’t have to yell Denise, you are quite loud enough. I almost fell out of my chair. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry, I’m still trying to get used to this thing. Cheyenne, it doesn’t make sense I can see you from my desk. I’m looking at you right now! An Intercom? If you ask me, it’s pretentious and pointless.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Your caller is still holding. Oh, wait.” She hits the intercom button and shouted, “Your caller is still holding.”
“Very funny.” I said, shaking my head.
“Thanks.” She smirks loudly over the intercom.
I answered the call and heard a voice I hadn’t heard in a while. Instantly I remembered the dress I designed for her. The way it hung on her delicate curves. Then the way it lay in a pile on my bedroom floor. I remember Mrs. Angelica Moreland and there’s nothing angelic about her. Our last encounter didn’t end badly; it just should have never started to begin with.
“What can I do for you today, Mrs. Moreland?”
“Mrs. Moreland? Are we back to formal now?” She asked.
“Business is formal, and since you are calling my office it must be about business. So what can I do for you?”
“Fine, I’ll play. Some business yes, but I wanted to catch up, you know, see how you’ve been. So, how are you?”
“I’m great. Building my own business has had its challenges but I’m holding my own. Lots of orders, so many in fact, that I had to hire a bigger staff.” I said proudly.
“That’s wonderful Cheyenne! I have to admit part of why I called you was because of the design you did for Jasmine. I saw the pictures in Elle. The dress was amazing. The way it fit her body, every part of her perfectly, I knew you spent a lot of time on her design. So, how was she?” She asked in a lecherous tone.
“I enjoyed working with her.” I replied completely professional.
“I bet you did.”
“Did you call for a real reason Angelica? I’m a little busy this morning.” I tried to sound as impatient as possible.
“ Fine. You’re no fun today. I need your services. Well the ones you provide when making beautiful clothing.”
“Those are the only services I offer, Angelica.”
“That’s disappointing, but I’m sure I can change your mind.” She cooed.
“Seriously, please, what do you want?”
“We’d be safer if we talked about my needs instead of what I want.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It had been a year since I last saw Angelica, and she hasn’t changed a bit.
“ I need,” she continued, “an outfit for a charity event in May. I remember you need six months but surely four will suffice, plus I’m a longstanding customer.”
“I really do need the full six months. I have several designs I’m working on already. I don’t think I’ll be able to fit you in. Maybe you should come check out the designs I’ve already completed. I’m sure you will find something you like.”
“I don’t want a dress you made to fit some other woman’s body. I want you to make one for my body, my frame, my curves. If I wanted it off the rack I’d have gone to Macy’s!” she boomed.
“And if you’d have wanted me to make it you’d have called me two months ago. I can’t take another job right now. I’m sorry.” I motioned to Denise to interrupt me so I could excuse myself off the phone, but she kept putting her finger to her ear like she couldn’t hear me while pointing at the damn intercom. Note to self get rid of the fucking intercom.
“Cheyenne, please? Come see me. We can work something out.” She pleaded.
“How’s your husband Angelica?” I asked in a surly tone.
“Out of town, like I like him. Will you come see me?” She asked.
“ I’ll think about it. It was good hearing from you Angelica.” I hung up before she could reply.
I didn’t have time for this, but knowing Angelica the way I did, I knew she’d keep calling until I caved or she’d show up. That wasn’t going to happen.
Coming Soon!! Adventures in Cheyenne
I am going to post some of my short stories on here because no one reads my blog so surely the kiddies won't;-)
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