“Under Pressure”


“Under Pressure”

Jasmine ribbon vapors rolling through my nose.

Rolled off in the corner, are soiled pantyhose.

Little this, little that.

Mirror image, much too fat.


Focus on, but out of,


Encountering enchantments of denial.

Empty promises reprisal.

Going, going, went.

Frustration all but pent,

Up in here, up in here.

Wiping condensed steam from the looking glass dream,

Leaving behind streaks.

Compact disc repeats,

Then skips too frequently.

Applying a brave new face,

A newfound supple grace,

Over the counter.

Arm behind the back.

Falling angel here,

Skimpy underwear.

Peeking out of skinny jeans’ secret pocket.

Self-deceit, rinse repeat.

Jasmine ribbon vapors rolling through my nose.

Will my make-up pass?

Supple supposition.

Paralytic indecision,

Will my make-up pass?

You never can tell.

“Enter The Days…”

“Hedgerow” ©️C.P. Hickey 2019

“Enter The Days…”

Enter the days that remind me.

Remind me of sunshine long ago.

How fresh summer days began with dappling light reflecting off of chlorine blue public pools.

The lane lines seemed to stretch onward forever.

Each stroke belied a deeper thrust at the meaning of life.

The hog’s honest truth is that death was closing in,

No matter how hard I slapped at the water with my hands and feet.

But then somehow out behind the pool, I’d get lost mixing counted sorrows against discarded bottle caps.

“Skeleton Key”

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“Skeleton Key”

Skeleton key, skeleton key,

Dangling from your waist.

My door is locked.

Please set me free.

Unlock my blushing face.

Others have tried,

To no avail.

They couldn’t open me.

My guess at best,

About the rest,

They all had faulty keys.

But, you come along,

And promise more,

With your lengthy rigid torque.

Insert into my cylinder,

And make your magic work.

My bolt and latch,

A stubborn match,

For your working key.

Persistence and pressure pay off,

And start my liberty.

The action builds,

And with a twist,

My bolt comes all but free.

You turn the knob,

Complete the job.

Leaving me open, finally.

So, if your door won’t budge,

On this we can agree,

Find yourself the freeing magic of,

A dangling skeleton key.

“Dashboard Snuffleupagus”

“Dashboard Snuffleupagus” ©️C.P. Hickey 2019

“Dashboard Snuffleupagus”

Dashboard Snuffleupagus,

I passed the joint,

but took two hits.

Does anyone else,

dare to see,

What I now see,

In front of me?

A mini brown pachyderm,

Sunning in the midday burn.

I couldn’t help but stop and stare,

In front of me,

Look! Just there.

What do you mean,

You cannot see,

What’s plainly staring back at me?

There affixed behind the glass,

Trunk to stern,

elephant ass.

Next thing,

Most assuredly,

You’ll tell me,

Quite impossibly,

That Snuffleupaguses do not exist.

I’ll take that joint,

Back from you.

I’ll take one hit,

Instead of two.

And cure my

unhealthy fixation.

Maybe it’s the midday light?

If you look now,

You just might spy,

A majestic and mysterious creature.

Where is it?

Stop sassing me.

It’s on the dashboard for all to see.

Just there behind the steering wheel.

Forget the medal of St. Christopher.

If you don’t look now,

You’ll certainly miss the fur,

And trunk growing more and more brown in the waning afternoon light.

Despite your unwavering insistence,

My self-esteem affords persistence,

And doesn’t need your validation.

Later, at the end of Day.

Sometime after we have walked away.

I will smile for having found magic in this world.