“A Long Musk”

“A Long Musk”

Let’s go down to that secret place.

That place where you can be who you want to be.

Who you are?

Where we can revel in the glory of attraction and anticipation.

Bated breath.

Sweat.

Chest to breast.

Bold biology.

Fulfillment.

Elbows, lips, pliable flesh.

Pink, purple, red, mocha.

Salt kisses, fingers submerged.

Dainty fingertips gliding along the periphery.

Sweat, warm wetness.

Pushing through.

Resistance.

Momentum.

Breathless butterflies.

Connected solely through electric fingertips.

Fingerprints intermingle, DNA altered.

Traveling towards the event horizon, no reset.

Skillful ravaging.

Contentment.

Certain.

Invasive intimacy.

Waves, waves, waves.

Eyes locked.

Final approach.

Hushed encouragements increase the urgency.

Swollen to a point of burst.

A civilization in its ascendency and decline, in one moment.

Palms slapping the top sheet.

Final advances assured.

Bucking.

Thrashing.

Grinding.

No stopping the launch sequence.

Liftoff.

Traveling up into and becoming one with the atmosphere.

Eventually escaping gravity, and floating.

Floating…floating.

A sweet reverie, wrapped in languid limbs and surrendered kisses.

An expanding universe that ends and begins in the loins of lovers searching for meaning.

“Timeshare Chicanery”

img_2358

“Woods Hole Harbor” © C.P. Hickey 2009

 

 

 

“Timeshare Chicanery” *

 

Come at once!

Make haste, you’ve won!

For your time,

a handsome sum.

You don’t have to buy,

despite our best try.

You’re free to go.

Just a moment, though.

Sit inside this hotel multi-purpose room,

and listen to our pitch.

You can have a free blender,

even if you ditch.

Let’s share some time,

and time some share.

A few weeks a year,

now that is all we ask.

Are you and your new spouse up to such a task?

Imagine, yourself in a warmer clime,

just sign here,

upon this dotted line.

Floridian, Caribbean,

abroad in some exotic place.

If those aren’t the weeks you want,

you simply trade your space.

Our industry depends on you,

we value your inability to say no.

Once we get a foot in the door,

it’s nigh impossible for you to go.

So, come at once!

Make haste, you’ve won!

You’re luckier than most.

Sign upon the dotted line,

and enjoy a sunny coast.

Two weeks a year,

is all we need,

to puff our bottom line.

We depend on rubes like you,

you are our favorite kind.

*seeded from a phrase offered by, E. Vickery

Observations on a Recent Consumer Safari…

shopping

words overheard: “I’m allergic to lettuce.”

sights seen: a little girl in a princess costume dancing to her own music

things felt: the cold hard metal of a shopping cart as it rammed my calf

odors smelled: the rancid citrus urine from the plastic bathrooms

tastes collected: the cinnamon granola samples given by sample trolls

words overheard: “Put it down! You’re not getting it!”

sights seen: A leather toupée, I repeat, a leather toupée

things felt: the heat blower blowing hot air at the entrance door

odors smelled: popcorn and pizza from the convenience cafe

tastes collected: a small sample of a dumpling dipped in salty soy sauce

words overheard: “If not for bad luck, I would have none at all.”

sights seen: a shopping cart full of bad food choices being pushed by a 376 lb. woman

things felt: guilt for judging the 376 lb. woman

odors smelled: the overpowering smell of rubber in the automotive area

tastes collected: the creamy zip of tangy sherbert

words overheard: “How do you..she don’t like that…hunh?

sights seen: yes, stretch pants with stirrups

things felt: the dodgy broken shopping cart wheel sticking again

odors smelled: the wafting cloud of store bread being baked

tastes collected: pleasantly delicious mini hot dog bagel combo

words overheard: “Helen, do we really need that?”

sights seen: High School Musical paraphernalia everywhere

things felt: the stares of people as I dance to my own music

odors smelled: wet sawdust that covers the vomit near the rugs

tastes collected: my own bad breath from eating all the samples

words overheard: “I can’t do that right now, Shelia. I’m on break for cripse sakes!”

sights seen: stranded shopping carts full of misplace items

things felt: my leg falling asleep as the lady in line argues every total

odors smelled: the exhaust of passing cars in the parking lot

tastes collected: the last swig of flat coca-cola classic left in the car overnight

There’s No Day Like a Snow Day

snow

Awakened to new fallen snow.
Wait! It hasn’t stopped.
Alas, since last evening, though,
Two whole feet have dropped.
Shall I call to work just yet?
No! Wait a little longer.
Remaining in a state of fret,
Apprehension grows much stronger.
Will I call, or won’t I call?
Maybe it gets worse?
Putting off, will only stall,
The eventual report.
My mind was made, some flakes ago.
Why am I afraid?
It won’t matter if I show,
I will still get paid.
Perhaps, an email? Perhaps, a text?
What if they say no?
What excuse to think of next?
One beyond reproach.
Oh, do it now, just call out.
I’m sure others have as well.
Timely, came this snowy bout,
Opportunity, downward fell.
White canvass touching all around.
Begin this day to treasure.
Now call the boss, abet, aground,
and start some magic leisure.