He Had a Plan...

Chapter 1: Preamble- My Present State of Being

My heart was thumped…
love found, love lost…
always lost, with summer dreams

twisted into a thousand burnt pieced of tin-foil
that were wrapped around corn cobs 
crisping over a barbie,
all dreams now discarded with chicken wings

picked clean of all their meat by greedy, merciless incisors...

yes, I was that miserable...
and so my heart led me on from there,

searching for an ‘us’ to complete the ‘me’...

hoping for something like this- .

I was sent on wayward journeys and adventures

of excitement, troubles, joy, and heartache,
and, in the end, like grains sliding through parted fingers,
nothing to show that anything was ever there at all...

in this adventure there were no exceptions,

except one…

She arrived, splattered across sun-soaked scenery
in sand and cool shades... enough right there for the usual male brute,
but there was an electricity about her -

the same electricity that I found in myself...
and, as happens with sudden bursts of lightening,
especially two intermingling,

things can get scorched...

Chapter 2: The Initial Encounter

   “We deserve to be free... freer than society allows!”

...there she was, bikini-clad, standing tall on a soap box,
imploring her message to all that would hear...

   “We are all patrons of fools, and I want off this crazy ride!”

...and as she raged against the machine,
against the shortcomings of organized social systems,
my mind flittered from soapbox to bikini to lips to hair,
at the bequest of my starving heart, no doubt,
always the schemer, forever fomenting trouble
in the name of reproduction...

   “Excuse me, Miss...”

She turned in an astonished rage that anyone would dare interrupt her,
her, on a roll, and in her sublime moment on this earth,
touching millions with her epiphany-driven message...

She acknowledged me. “What IS it, Mr. Fancy Pants?”

I looked down at my Hawaiian swimwear...

   “Um, well, ‘society’ was formed over many generations of trial and error.
What you are proposing is to merely repeat the ‘error’...”

NOW I’ve had it, I thought, considering her change in expression;
her eyes bore down on me and burned a dozen holes
in my trunks...

She collected herself, foofed her hair up, and gathered a response...

   “Excuse ME, sir, but I beg to differ!”

I could not help but be mesmerized by her body... language...
I got a grip, however, and concentrated on her mouth...
forming the words...

   “I do not wish to follow the herd of sheep wasting away their lives!”

I noticed that she wore no wedding ring,
I wondered who was wasting away her life...
she continued...

   “If we live freely, with the promise never to harm others,
happiness and freedom are ours to hold!”

I beat my heart down, steadied my libido,
and tried to hold my bearing as erect as possible in my reply...

   “and guess what embodies that ‘promise’...?”

She paused, staring, at once perplexed
and with a dumb-blond expression...
but she was not quite blond,
so I expected her to guess accurately in a moment or two...

and they were long moments, she, sizing me up,
and me, already have taken her measurements several times over...

   “Tell me, tell me, TELL ME...!” she half-demanded and half-implored,
her creamy voice rising to a crescendo...

I smiled, glad that I got her to ponder,
and I don’t know how she took that,
but my heart was beating in grand applause...

   “Society is that ‘promise’, or, more accurately,
the result of that promise being broken;
for the nature of man is nothing to put one’s trust in,
just ask any dead communist...”

She was not making any moves to reply yet,
perhaps lost in thought,
perhaps wondering what to wear to a future dinner date, so I continued...

   “I would give human nature two million more years of evolution
before it is trustworthy enough
for the 'world of promise' that you envision to exist...”

She finally had a reply that would not be contained,
not even by her sun-striped bikini,
and it spilled out like Jello liberated from its mold...

   “In life, we have to trust someone, sometime,
unless we want to live life alone and desolate;
also, success has nothing to do with education or money,
or the ability to control,
it is to die happy and loved,
and be surrounded by those who care...”

My mind shot off it that direction, the ‘happy’ part, and dying in her arms...
I gathered my wits, but they were not enough,
she had hit me with a particularly painful arrow...

   “ahhhhhh... I will just dwell on that ‘dying happy’ for a while...”

She smiled a beautiful smile, for it was that of a winning smile,
and came over...

   “So... does that mean I win?
Did I win our debate, my new friend?”

   “If winning is you standing over me as I go ‘ahhhhhhhh’, then yes...”



Chapter 3: Virtual Relationship

My business trip concluded, I flew back home,
and home for me was half-way around our planet Earth,
from her West Coast Australian environs to my East Coast US...

Enter here the Internet.
The Internet- bane, peril, blessing, and gift to the hearts and minds of man,
and you can add woman, too,
and all that they think about...

We stayed connected, IM’ing regularly and pleasantly,
sharing ideas, philosophies, small talk, and yes, teasing heart-tugs
that spanned the longest possible routes
around mankind’s newest social network system.

Gone now the days of town criers, Pony Express, telegraph,
and swiftly becoming extinct, snail-mail and landline telephones...

After a while I found that we were mirror-images in personality;
she was, I soon realized, ‘me in a bikini’...

We both had similar traits,
the love of shocking people into thinking, laughing, and feeling;
of taking politically incorrect roads, and a bit crassly sometimes;
a sense of odd humor; spewing raw emotion as it seemed fit.
We both liked weird spins and sudden surprises;
why, she even imbued genuine heart into her writing,
much to my heart’s admiration...

   “So,” she said, “and now we are friends... love your guts and gizzards!”

   “Be careful, I may do the same back before long...” I replied.

   “Do it....... I dare you!” she said, and I imagined in teasing jest.    

   “Within society’s box, or without?” I tauntingly replied,
referring back to our original encounter...
then I realized something... and said,

   “We are two electric people- we have to watch it,
or things will get burned...”

   “Perhaps they will; and keep throwing the challenges at me, I love it! xx!
Did you truly feel as you did, or do you just like debate?” She inquired.

   “I truly felt that way. Debate is difficult. I’m amazed that we ‘survived’ it." I frankly answered.

   “How old are you, my dearest Prince?”

   “Let’s see, when you were born I was three years out of high school...
which means you are a goddess to me...!” I added, as a cautionary note.  

   “I’ll take ‘goddess’, and also ‘young’ beauty, if you’re willing to dish it...” she laughed...

and her laugh was the laugh that three bottles of Merlot gives a giddy female...



Chapter 4: Nature Plots Her Course- Wild Fling

Soon, as is the nature of humans who take action before they have time to think,
I was determined to meet her again in the physical world,
to satisfy my heart’s thirst,
for a virtual relationship is purely of the mind,
and the heart is in constant protest, needing physical completion,
an urge buried deeply in our genetic code in order to perpetuate life,
many times against all rules of society and code,
in dizzying passion,
for, as they discovered at Jurassic Park, “life finds a way”...

All this plotting, I mean planning, went smoothly on my end.
I arranged my round-trip tickets. Rental car. Perth Zoo discount coupon...
I threw some clothes in a suitcase in the darkness of the early hours,
then sped off to the airport...

and this is when the Gods of Propriety and Proper Conduct
struck in all their wrath and complete strangeness...

I made a left turn on First and Vine,
the quickest way to the freeway out of the ‘burbs
when I felt several ‘thumps’ against my car.
Then all four tires went flat.
In my rear-view mirror, I saw a sight that convinced me of my madness-
several small... Maltese dogs with angel wings?
flying off, away from the scene of their heinous crime...

That was it, I knew, all the plotting, I mean plans, were off now.
There would be no wild fling. I will miss my flight to Australia...

My heart, in dejected misery and disappointment,
kept prodding my mind to create a Plan B,
for no way was IT going to miss such a promising tryst...
and what do you know, it succeeded...


Chapter 5: Plan ‘B’

As it projected through the earth’s core on the computer simulation,
if I dug a hole straight down from my bedroom closet,
I would end up 400 miles southwest of Perth in the Indian Ocean.
My joy was unbounded! My heart leaped in ecstasy

(and it gave my mind a loving poke)...
I would emerge only 400 miles from heaven...

all I needed were a shovel and work gloves,
a few oceanic conveniences, a hard hat with light,
and a coordinated plan with the obsession of my heart’s fancy...

I worked furiously into the night, which quickly receded above;
my mind was consumed by the fantasies
that such a wild fling will bring...

I did not notice the heat as I plunged through the earth’s crust
and dug into the heated mantle below...
I did not mind maneuvering through the liquid core,
or digging ‘down’ through solid iron

and then ‘up’ again for the next 4000 miles,
repeating the process in reverse,
for it was all a pleasant dream to me...

I donned my pressure suit and burst through the floor of the Indian Ocean,
precisely 432 nautical miles Southwest of Perth, Australia.
I inflated my rubber armchair air mattress,
poured myself a drink, and waited for my appointed Goddess rendezvous...

Up I went. Down I went. Sloshing in the ocean swells in the sunlight
softened by the gentle global-warming haze,
ahhh, bliss was just a skyhook away...

That is when I noticed them, hunting as a loose pack,
darting about below like sinister submarines without periscopes,
those denizens of the ocean that Aussies take pride in,
those multi-rowed toothy eating machines with the cartilaginous skeleton
and highly streamlined body covered by a hard dermal corset...
otherwise known as ‘sharks’...

They looked quite upbeat and happy to me,
and I then realized why they were so upbeat and happy,
for, floating, up, down, I bobbed like a lost lunch from a passing cruise ship...

The braver of the hunters were soon testing me, shooting by at twenty knots,
there keen sense of smell and electro-receptors in heightened anticipation...
I had my anti-shark karate chop ready,
but it might just as well have been a pork chop,
as the first shark bore in for the kill, eyes closed and mouth open, undaunted...

As luck would have it, and unaware to me in my adrenaline-manic state,
my heroine had arrived, and she plucked me out of the jaws of certain death
just in the nick of time- for as I chanced a peek back at death with dorsal fin,
my air mattress and all its fine accouterments
were being crumpled and devoured by pointy rows of megamouth teeth...

   ”You have a way with timeliness, my enchanted Princess.”

   “Well,” she confessed, “I had arrived ten minutes ago, but...
well, the show was to die for...!”
and she left that thought dangling with a sheepish grin...

Chapter 6: Out from the Jaws of One Predator and Into the Arms of Another  

So, there we were, flying in a rescue 'copter,

four-hundred miles out in the Indian Ocean,

and finally, living our long-dreamed-of dream of togetherness...

Our electricity was present, as always;
we began conversation light, as comedians,
clearing the air, cleansing our heavy hearts,
then as confidants,
leaning on one another for advice about life situations,
and before long, clearing away our deep, long-lingering depressions...

Some would simple call it “mutual support”,
but I would also call it love,
if only a small portion of it...

Perhaps we both had taken a turn in life,
uncertain where to go,
and found ourselves facing one another...

"Say 'hi' to the stars for me," I told her, as I dozed off,

remembering that I usually see the sun when she sees the stars...

"Well, good morning, sleepy head!"

 "You know, electric man has been chasing me again," she said,

pouring coffee into a couple of stout Perth Zoo mugs.

"Oh?" I exclaimed. "Well, be careful, I heard that 'one touch' and 'poof' you're a 50 ft. woman."

She paused in devious contemplation... for I slept through our first night together, and she had the hungry eyes of a lioness who would not take that chance again...

and so early that evening he came, a heap of electric sparks in the form of a man. She could not help herself, she ran, knowing that he was trying to kill her, to electrocute her... but tonight she hesitated...

"ZAP!"

She did not know what hit her, everything spun in a dizzying array of colors, then everything grew small...

Chapter7: She Slaughtered Pedestrians by the Hundreds

She slaughtered pedestrians by the hundreds
an image I will never forget;
black, slippery, slimy, slithering mounds of flesh
under her gigantic, unmerciful feet...

Then our eyes met,
and she smiled...

She continued on her grotesque parade,
eating chickens whole

while lurking around the corner for a kiss-kiss...

I’m sure she did it for the attention,
for no one ever notices her loneliness-
they only see her shapely legs and nice bit of tail,
and her thighs were like butter... easy to spread...

“Purrrrrr...” I gave her a little slap,
trickles of sticky, sweet honey hit me in bucketfulls,
teasing, taunting, deliciously sexy...

We ate sunbeams and took trips to the moon

in silver spacesuits... the earth spinning behind us...

She had perfected her laugh, and the way she flicked her hair
gave her a happy appearance;
I taught her how to fly
and we listened to the night sky;
I lent her my wings to fly, and they broke; she was so apologetic...

We returned to our mountain forest,
hungry wolves prowling everywhere,
but she was always the hungrier...

We sat, under the pink peppercorn tree
on a bench made from jumbo jets,

the cool moon-soaked air touching her ghostly figure,
shining in my eyes...

We walked on eggshells after that,
she, in an excess of elegance, and me, in too many of her wines...

Our moods swung like a metronome in life’s meaningless flaws,
yet our music never died...

Once she told me, “Fuck you, I’m outta here,”
then our hearts fell to the ground

and she said she’d strip naked in front of Roy Harper’s house,

and with a lime rind in her mouth, she took to the trees.

I licked her sweetness from my face...

She had a fish tank in her room...

It was her birthday today...
I gave her a card,
“I hope someone shat on your birthday cake.”
I hope she saw the humor... I never asked;

I looked for signs for the next three weeks...

I offered her peanuts.

She shouted, “Oh, why, oh why, do I look fat?”
I said, “Show me your nips, and I’ll call you thin.”
Then I ran...

Her birthday party was a smash-
cake, beer, presents, a goose,
a monkey, a meerkat, ice cream, balloons...
even an juggler in a superman suit...

Our poor little hearts had not been fed for days.
We washed them down with white wine,
then sent them on their sad, lonely ways...

She got mad at the bus driver today...

Then I sat on the edge of her bed for the last time,

taking her hand in mine,

and I watched her sleep;

a tear trailed her cheek

as I gave her my last goodbye kiss...

Chapter 8: Average Days

(still rough, and not complete)

My third trip to Perth began in normal mode,
I caught the flight out this time,

Maltese dogs with angel wings flitting about
around the engines of the jumbo jet,
me, staring into space, watching the slinky stewardess
play with the oxygen cord
and demonstrating how to put your head between your legs...

The days spent with my moon-lover were, by all accounts, average,
except for our cosmic karma...
I tucked her in until she was all warm and cozy,
and gave her a kiss on the forehead, wishing her sweet dreams...

“I seem to have passed out on you last night,” she said as she awoke.
My finger stroking her forehead, trailed down her cheek,
then down, down, down...

“You wouldn’t be flirting with me, would you?” She exclaimed.
“Of course I’m flirting. That is the spice of our relationship!” I answered,
“though I am a bit too old for you...”
Then I added, “You know, if we wrote about all this,
do you know what readers would be most interested in?”

“No, what?” She queried...

“Our relationship and how we interacted, and the feelings between us...”

She had awaken fully clothed, with her laptop on her knees.
“I must really stop doing that!” She confessed.
“Sometimes I barely make it to work on time, forgetting to set my alarm...”

So, late that morning, she forced me to clean her house,
while she skipped breakfast...
“Holy Moly, I just realized I don’t even know your name!” she blurted,
but before I could reply, she said brightly,
“I’m off to lunch with my girlfriends, I’ll be back in an hour;
start that write, I can’t wait to read it! Catch ya later!”
and she was gone...

There I was, in the most isolated city in the world,
with seven high-rises, a freeway, a McDonalds, and a zoo...

she returned during my musings, and I relayed my thoughts.
“Are you teasing my city?” she asked.
“I’ll have you know we have more than one Maccas! We have too many...
we also have some of the most pristine beaches in the world.
Our coral coast is more beautiful and less touristy than the Great Barrier Reef,
our state has been luckily untouched by tourism.
We live in paradise! So THERE to you!”

I told her I live in a small town named “Bear”.
One post office., one McDonalds, no zoo’s, no freeway, no high-rises;
so I confessed that high-rises were romantic to me...

The next morning I watched her wake.
“Hello, young beauty,” I said.

“Young beauty. Hehehehe...” she responded delightfully.
“Keep wooing me, I’m having fun!”
The teasing light was flashing “On Air”...

“All right, and you too, who knows, we may get good at it...” I said.
“I’m already good at it!” she said, beaming proudly.

“What’s this?” she asked, as she casually rummaged through my suitcase.
“That’s my superhero suit. I wear it when Bear needs me.”
I put it on for her, tightening my action-belt...
then my action phone rang, and I answered it in a business voice.
“Are you leaving? How rude... you woo me, you court me,
you give me electricity, and then you leave me?”
“Bear needs me. Here, here’s a set of big, giant, rubber lips
to chase you around while I’m gone...”
and they chased her, for she was full of chocolate...
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeek!” and she managed to add,
“Have a great day, dearest, or I’ll smash your teeth in... MWAH xx,
catch ya on the flip-side...”

Such a true-love story would have people envious, I thought,
love tugging at the heartstrings, and the electricity,
feeling such a connection between two people...
and we could get as mushy as we wanted,
for, in the end, there will always be that sad, final kiss goodbye...

I returned in a day, and she was waiting.
“Hello, oh denizen of such earthly extremes” I greeted.
“Oh, don’t you look handsome. Have you done your hair?”
I looked in the mirror. My hair was stiff-back with the wind.
“You charmer, you. Have you been chatting up some other young woman?”
she asked jealously.
“What? Jealous, are you! You know I will dote on you,
and know that women are jealous of our electric relationship...
especially the woman I’m courting!”
“What?” she replied, “Who could possibly be jealous of me?
Courting? A married man courting? Wouldn’t be Jane by any chance?

Well, as long as you dote on me, I’m a happy woman...”

“Damn. You are quite perceptive, or is it woman intuition,
same difference, I guess... yes, it is Jane,
but then there is this mysterious mermaid goddess who lives on an island,
she is pulling hard, but I think she simply needs to find out what love is beyond sex...
so, I am woman-saturated right now...”
“Yes,” she replied, “Well, aren’t you popular with the ladies.
You have Jane, a Mermaid Goddess, and me,
your new little floozy from Australia!”
“Floozy?” I protested, “I’ll bet the electric man adores you like I do...”
“HA! You adore me, you adore me, you adore me!
It’s because I’m fantastic and wonderful and funny and clever, isn’t it?
Or is it because I get around in a bikini and I’m hot and have
two legs and two arms and phalanges and a cute button nose, and freckles,
and a Madonna gap between my two front teeth,
and green eyes that change to blue sometimes?”
“It is because you are shorter than me!” I teased... “and yes,
all those others things, too, I confess...” and I laughed about the ‘phalanges,
and told her I hadn’t heard that term since being funny in junior high...
“What make you think I’m shorter than you? I’m 50 ft., remember!
and oops, ‘phalanges’, sorry, must be a phallic thing...”

"You mean you were the 50ft. woman,

and you had me make love to you? Why you sneaky little..."

We smiled, and we shared fun teeth...

“You love me, I can tell.” she said, flat out.
“Love you? You can tell? Well, I’ll have to take your higher word for it...”
“I know you love me,” she said again.
“I am an awesome catch, and I’m 50 ft.,
what man could resist such love?”

We shared an apple juice, a large cappuccino with two sugars,
a 1.5l bottle of water, and a bacon & egg muffin...
it helped ease our hearts... and I continued with my story,
to get the matter behind us...

“Well, the mermaid was after me first, but she was not capable of love,
so my heart went out searching, and it found Jane.
You and I have an electricity, which is something different,
yet quite exciting, more like a friendship, yes... but quite a dangerous one...”

She looked startled. “Honey, I may regret saying this later –
and I don’t ever like to get involved in such things,
and I adore you already and I don’t want to see you get hurt,
but please ignore the mermaid, I know of her, and she toys with emotions.
Jane is probably more truthful in love.
Yes, the mermaid is beautiful, and is every man’s dream, but she is a player,
she will only hurt you in the end.
I do adore you, you are definitely something special...
and also I don’t want to get between you and Jane...”

I thanked her for the information,
and told her that I haven’t really confided in anyone yet about the whole thing,
except my young poetry niece, who was dead-set against me having an affair.

“The mermaid, a consumer of emotion, like she’s just smoking a huge doobie,
yes, I’ve sensed that, but I’ve also sensed that she doesn’t know what love is,
that there is a huge difference between sex and love.
Men would think I’m crazy for keeping her at arm’s length for that,
but your insight has only confirmed what I suspected;
and I’ve been open with Jane about the mermaid, and about you.
Yes, she is hurt, and jealous, but that is the test of love... or the want of it,
as if I want it to endure the test of time, and all things that it may bring...
Yes, the mermaid is exotic and exciting,
but I’m looking to live out my days in peace, bliss, and contentment,
and I see that with Jane... I did scathingly lay into the mermaid
about love and sex when she was losing me to Jane,
and the mermaid cursed me for it, but I held my ground...
and you? I’m glad I met an intelligent girl with sharp intuition...”

I took my ballcap off. She gazed in wonderment.
“My IQ jumps 50 points when I take my hat off”, I explained.
I demonstrated again. I was bald on top, except for a lingering peachfuzz.
I often thought that, with just a little lawn food, it might grow back...
She rubbed the peachfuzz and smiled...
impressed with my sun-drenched chrome-dome, but she was competitive.

“Your IQ jumps 50 points, does it? What might your IQ be with your hat on?” she baited.
“With hat on? Oh, about the level of a NASCAR redneck.”
She snorted. “Well, I’m afraid we are not going to work out. I’m 144,
way past men’s level. Sorry, ‘tard.”
“OK, Ms. Einstein,” I replied. I looked at the clock. “Have a nice day at work...”
then I looked out the window. It was dark.
“Oh, it’s night, I’m twelve hours out of sync still.
I should have taken my hat off before I spoke...”
“Hahahaha, you make me laugh.” she smilingly replied...
It was nice to see her smile in real-time,
I usually had to wait for the earth to revolve a bit...
“Love your guts!” she said, “MWAH!” and she left for work, adding,
“Beware of the mermaid. If she breaks your heart, I’ll break your nose...”

When she returned she was down and depressed.
It turns out she was on the receiving end of a nasty gossiper at work.
She likened the gossiper’s tongue to an eel she saw butchered in Barcelona.
“You know,” I said, “There is a saying in that –
Be careful, or I’ll tell the Barcelona Eel Butcher that your tongue exists...”
I told her of the vision I was having of it, there I was,
in a restaurant with a liar/gossiper who is annoying me and everyone around,
and I say, "Careful, or I'll tell the Barcelona eel Butcher that your tongue exists."
and everyone who was in earshot laughs and rises and gives me a standing ovation...
This seemed to cheer her up, and she added,
“and everyone says, “HOORAH HOORAH HOORAH! I can see it, too!!!!”



“Good morning, shit-stick, hehehehe...” she said, greeting me as the sun rose...
then she paused, “On a more serious note, since we always seem to just muck about,
how is life treating you? Is it my imagination, or are you feeling a little bit blue lately?”
“It is your ESP. You are quite psychic.
Jane took her husband back, said something about his blooming bimbo
dumping him, like she knew she would... and the mermaid disappeared,
maybe gossip, or my harsh words, though I thought she was over that,
or maybe my friends confronting her, trying to protect me,
and chiding her for messing with a married man...
so, I’m feeling OK, well, maybe a bit lovesick and abandoned, if you know that feeling...”
She reached her arms out and gave me a huge cuddle.
“What’s wrong with women. How could they toy with you like that? I just don’t get it.
You know what I think of the mermaid,
and how could Jane take her husband back, if his bimbo hadn’t left him
she wouldn’t have had a look-in, can’t she see that?
Ohhh, honey, I don’t know what to say, but I’m here for you, so VENT!!!”

I thought that if I were back on the other side of the world,
this would be a distance record for venting...
in fact, anything we do would be a distance record,
us living almost half-way around the world, minus 400 miles...

“I'm a little cynical at times,” she said, “and I don’t mean any harm by saying this,
but I believe there are too many women who enjoy being wooed by a man such as you.
the problem is, sometimes they allow the fantasy to take over.
Then they realize things are getting serious,
and they start back-peddling at full speed.
I'm not saying they don’t love you,
all I'm saying is people can get caught up in emotions and then freak out, i guess.
Just wait and see what happens with them.
Maybe leave the contact up to them for a while.
I too have fallen in love only to find out he has just had a baby or something,
and my heart fell to pieces. Maybe I trust too many idiots...”
“Well,” I offered consolingly, “Love is a dunce cap.”
“Love is a dunce cap! Can I use that? You are beautiful.
I do love your guts even if we are not much more than strangers dancing in the night.
Bless you for being you. I will protect your heart with every inch of mine.
Have a glorious day, and know that you are precious. MWAH!”


“Hello, Mr. Sexy pants. Good morning. How are you doing today?
Are things looking up for you?”
I was lying on my back, and I was looking up, and with a caress,
I was really looking up... I threw a kiwi her way...
“Aren’t you wonderful!” she exclaimed.
I told her that she earned her 144 IQ stripes again,
for the ‘down’ she predicted just hit me,
and the ‘afraid of love and backpeddling’? Bingo, that too.
I told her that I seemed to always be out of sync,
when I thought things were ‘yes yes’, they were actually ‘no no’,
and when I was down and thought things were ‘no no’,
they were actually ‘yes yes’, and I’d miss chances...
with a big sigh, I thanked her for her smile...

That day I wrote something for people who are obsessed with love.
It was about potatoes and Brussel sprouts...

 

"Potatoes and Brussel Sprouts"

or "A Reprieve for the Obssessed Mind"

(particularly those obsessed with love...)

 

 Today, and whatever your mind has been obsessed with the past few days, weeks, months... we shall talk about potatoes and brussel sprouts, to get our minds off of that which we need to get our minds off of, if only for a few precious minutes... so, without further delay, I present to you, Potatoes and Brussel Sprouts....

 

 

Here we have "potato", or, more correctly, "potatoes"...

 

 

 

they come in a great variety, so no matter what obsession we have, there is a potato to cure it...

 

 

 

even more fun, we have Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head...

 

 

and what a responsible, unobsessed pair they are...

 

 

of course, anytime you build anything nice, who comes along, moves in, takes it over, and ruins it like just another beach community?

 

 

 

 

 

you guessed it!

 

 

 

As for cooking potatoes, I think the au gratin dish is appealing...

 

 

 

hmmm... kind of too appealing... romantic... sexy... delicious... ahem, excuse me, pardon me... WELL, if you feel a relapse coming on, if it begins to warp your mind back into that state that we are trying to alleviate here, then you can pour a little salt cod on top of it, like this:

 

 

as a matter of fact, I think pouring a little salt cod will work on just about anything getting a little too... um... perky? yes... well...

 

 

 

 

 

Let us move right along to Brussel Sprouts...

 

 

baskets and baskets of brussel sprouts... and fields and fields of brussel sprouts...

 

 

 

Ah, the aroma... I feel my mind clearing already...

 

 

 

Here are two groups of brussel sprouts growing. It looks like they're doing the tango, eh? What a fine date they must be on... on a Saturday night... fun together... romance in the air... ah, pardon me again, drifted off...

 

 

and as for cooking, well, they can go much further than boiled and mushed up. Take these roasted brussel sprouts over a bed of butter-nut squash...

 

 

 

don't they look erotic and delectible?!! 

 

But now our minds are wandering back to that topic we've been obsessed with for the past few days, weeks, months...

 

 

quite a romantic, alluring brussel sprout, I must say... and with that, I now relapse into that obsessive state of mind that I offered a moment of relief from here...

 

bon-appetit! 

 

A Romantic Little Ditty
 
So, there we were, finally, living a dream...
our electricity was present, as always;
we began light, as comedians,
clearing the air, easing our heavy hearts,
then as confidants,
leaning on one another about situations,
even lifting long-lingering depressions...
 
you may call it mutual support
but I believe you could also call it love,
if only a small portion of it...
 
Perhaps we both have taken a turn in life,
uncertain where to go,
and found ourselves facing one another...
 

Why did the piece of chewing gum cross the road?"



"I don't know, why?"



"Because it was stuck to the chicken.”

“Question. Why doesn’t a chicken wear pants?”
“I have no idea, why?”
“Because his pecker is on his head!”
“That was funny. Hehehehe...”
“Well, it made me laugh, helped a little...” I said.
“Any giggle helps a little, thanks...”
“OK, one more. Why does a man think better in bed?”
“Don’t know,” she said, with heightened interest.
“Because they are plugged into genius...!”

Skipping Through the Rough Patches Together  

“I’m glad you’ve found comfort in me,
you’ve been on my mind, yes...” 

of rough patches, in life, 
and of the dwelling upon each other;  

“I take comfort in the thought
of you dwelling on me, too...”  

there is a connection, apart from electricity...
and the light laughter helps,  

skipping through the rough patches, together...
“any giggle helps a little...”  

People come here to think poetry;
they should come here to think life.  

“Oh, you are so beautiful, thank you, my friend.
You have put a smile on my face through the whole day tomorrow.
Love you heaps and tonnes and loads and piles and stacks and lots and bunches xx.”



“Hey, you went AWOL on me. I’ve been wondering what you’ve been up to...”
she said as we settled in after work.
 “I’ve been resting and leaving the Jane situation alone for a few days,
which means I generated a lot of thoughts and ideas on the matter!
and yes, I thought I’d touch base with you before another day went by...” I said.
“Thanks, I thought you might be down in the dumps and hiding, like I tend to do...”
she said with some dejection..
“Ah, we are alike, well, next time you are down and out I’ll send you a card of some sort...”
I said reassuringly.
“My hiding is collecting thoughts.” I concluded.
“Your hubby is coming back,
so it may be a few weeks before everything settles down for us again...”
“He is due back 5:30 Friday morning,” she said nervously. “He tends to watch everything I do.
I don’t want to fall back into his controlling ways – gotta be strong!! RARRR...
like King Kong...”
“Well, maybe you need to work out your writing time; ‘haphazard’ won’t work,
it will seem like cheating, and having set times for things always helps in chaotic situations...”
“Well,” she replied, “I’ve submerged myself into this cozy little world,
and it’s become too important to me, he can’t take it away from me.”
“Hey, what’s that? A new big-eyed photo of you! You anime character, you!
and yes, you are enough to make a guy jealous, so keep that in mind!”
“Thank you,” she replied. “I thought I’d show my big green eyes around for a bit
instead of hiding behind glasses all the time.”
“Well, as for us, tell your hubby that if we get enough material, we’re publishing!”
“Awe, you’re too sweet. He’s not jealous, just controlling.
He thinks my writing thing is a load of rubbish and a waste of time.
He’s really more worried that I’ll reform a friendship with another man I knew,
and that’s not going to happen...!”
“This other guy sounds like a bad influence.
Hey, I hope you don’t mind if I just sit here and stare
into your photo’s big eyes for a while, it is like... quenching one’s thirst...
and ‘load of rubbish and a waste of time?
Tell him you need to exercise your intellect and emotions, and besides,
you have a serious collaborator now... (who is usually 12,000 miles away).
Look, here are a few typical big-green-eyed anime girls that you look like...”
“Ohh... nice pics, must have been modeled after me! and that man,
yes, he is evil, and sort of an ex; he works with me, only a few desks away;
causes all sorts of problems; he hates my being a writer,
but I’m not caving in to any bullying... and stare at my photo all you like...”
“Well,” I said, “I’m going to copy it, so I have a reminder of how dangerous you are...
and you have to keep writing until we have a book or play or something,
you know our kind of writing can’t be rushed, it has to be lived...”
“Me, dangerous?” she said, smiling. “I’ll take that compliment and put it in my pocket,
for safe keeping... and exactly, our kind of writing takes time...”
“I still have my wife to keep me in line. Her nickname is “Godzilla”. I replied.
“Oh, I don’t beat around the bush. I call my husband ‘Fuckhead’, hehehehe...” she exclaimed. “Well, how about ‘Scuz Queen’ or ‘Monster Mommy’?" I countered. “She calls me a dreamer,
but she’ll be the first in line to spend any money I make writing,
and that is one big reason why I haven’t published yet, just to spite her evilness...” I said.
“If I told my husband I was thinking of publishing something, he’d laugh
and tease me until I lost confidence. He’s never read a book in his life.
Seriously. NEVER!” she confessed.
“Well, now you have a serious chance," I said; then I reminded her,

“and you know what the best part of the book will be?
The ‘feelings’ between us, and our ‘electricity’ will be one of them,
that is what people will be reading for...”
“That’s what people want, that’s for sure,” she replied.
“and that’s what they’ll get.” I finalized. “Well, time to get some rest.
Thanks, nice to interact again...”
“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed buggers bite you...”



“So, watcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” I asked, as I called her at work, “as if I didn’t know...!”
“I was thinking about chocolate cake and smashing some heads together,
but of course you guessed that, didn’t you!”

“No, I figured it would be banana cream pies, and 5:30 tomorrow morning...” I said.
“That is freaky”, she replied; “I popped out to lunch today and picked up a salad,
and I almost got a slice of banana cream pie...
I got the carmel chocolate slice instead, hehehehe... that’s just plain freaky...
and yes, I can’t get tomorrow out of my head...
he sent me a message that he wanted steak and potatoes ready for him,
what a cheeky prat! He’s lucky I’ve even allowed him back in the house! Seriously!
Mmmm, caramel chocolate slice, oh YEAH!
What are you thinking about, cheese and crackers, perhaps?”
“Meeeee? Thinking about??? Well, I was actually ‘feeling’ something,
that I’m free of love for the first time in a few months, kind of in limbo,
like I should write something completely abstract, laced with male hormones, of course...
well, tell your hubby you’ll make him steak and potatoes after he does a few chores!
Deal is a deal...”
“I was thinking of dropping his steak on the floor and dancing on it,
then letting the dog lick it, rubbing it under my armpits,
and then serving it up with a lovely fresh salad fresh from the garbage pale. Yum!!!
but I’m not cooking his dinner for him, wifey isn’t that much of a sucker,
unless he’s bought me lots of presents, then I’ll think about it...”
“Well, he probably won’t bring you lots of presents
if he’s been backpacking for three months in Cambodia and Laos.
So let me do a little shopping...

Better get some sleep, you’ll need your wits about you tomorrow...”

“Are you trying to tell me what to do, mister??
I must admit I’m supposed to be up and sober in five hours,
but I can always tell him to catch a taxi... and I don’t need my wits about me,
I need someone to treat me like a princess...
and I’ll be lucky if I’m treated like a pig tomorrow.
He’s already called me, asking what size I wear at the moment.
I said I’m a size 8, and he says, ‘Oh, so you’re getting fat again?’
I can’t win this fight, wits or not. I choose to be drunk instead. YAY!!!”
“Tell him to go hump a lightpost if he wants skinny,” I said, humorously.
“but don’t mention that the lightpost would get along with him intellectually...!”
“I AM thin,” she protested. I don’t want to be Skeletor from He-Man, for fuck’s sake,
8 is normal, 6 is skeletal!!
Well, I don’t look forward to seeing him,” she continued.
“The last three months have been the happiest few months I’ve had in a long time...
he’s my husband and all, but he wasn’t very nice to me before he went away...”




“The husband is home and we’re fighting already, that’s not good, hey?
He already wants to know what I’m doing and who I’m talking to...
I’ll have to log off soon, chat later...”
I replied, “Well, I’ll be expecting several scientific papers on your findings,
for life is a series of experiments...”

“The tension between my husband and I is EEEEEEEEK!!
Home 36 hours and already I’m suggesting that he move to his parent’s apartment
while they’re overseas...” she confided.
“Well,” I replied, “I could give you advice, but I think I’m starting to have selfish motives,
so keep that in mind!
I see relationships as being good for one, or both, or neither, the same goes for love,
and if it is both ways, many times it is unequal. Me? I married to go through hell,
so I would appreciate heaven later, and hopefully some if it on earth...”
“Ulterior motives?” she replied, “When you live on the other side of the moon?
My husband won’t stop talking about his trip, I think it’s to avoid the tension;
I’m just getting drunk instead...
Surely things aren’t that bad with your wife, do you get along at all?
surely you have some kind of friendship?”

“The ‘friendship’ between my wife and I is in our utter animosity and oppositeness...
the latter being to only thing of value, but we knew this from the start,
she wasn’t looking for love, and I had none to lose...
So you were the perfect couple who had found true love, well,
love gets tested every two days, if people don’t realize that, they’re in trouble;
sometimes it is just getting needed rest...
and yes, ulterior motives, selfish and crazy and impractical as they are,
but our inner beasts do not think of such things–
selfish, because I can see that I could break you two up, and have you for myself,
even though we are half-way around the world;
I think people do that when they’ve found someone who has become supportive,
who is good for them...
and crazy because it just isn’t socially acceptable, me being twenty years older,
and we are always fighting our base instincts and desires
so as not to cause disorder or in our socially-bound world;
and impractical because, still being married, I have family obligations
that I can’t, as a decent person, just walk away from overnight without causing disaster.
So there you have it, my two-cents worth, or two-pint’s worth, whichever you prefer...”

She sat and pondered that for a minute, then continued.
“I don’t feel important around him, all he does is put me down and relay negativity.
I haven’t smiled a true smile once since he came home. My hands and voice are shaking.
I have cried twice. He hasn’t even tried to touch me or hold me, let alone anything else.
I’m feeling lost. I don’t want to lose my home,
but at the same time I don’t want to be controlled, watched, and made to feel unworthy.
I’m tired of being put down all the time. I deserve better...”

I offered what wisdom I could muster.
“As for putting you down, tell him that, although you are glad he is trying to improve you,
lighten up! He doesn’t have to skewer you with a shark spear over every little item,
you only have so much blood that you can lose...
and he’s got to get used to the fact that he can’t control everything around him,
life will do what it will, whether he approves of it or not, and you, my dear, are ‘life’...”
I continued. “The put-down is one of our primary methods of jarring people into change-
a shocker, and yes, it’s probably just a control thing,
but it could also be a, ‘I’ll love you more if...’ thing...
a bad side effect is that such behavior becomes a cruel, mindless habit –
like my wife, for example, nothing will ever please her,
she is so used to being so critical, having grown up in a chaotic home
with three monstrous brothers... and as for us, yes, we are dangerous together,
because we both deserve better, and here we are, together...
for you, it would be being treated better, for me, the love that I have missed my entire life...”

“You are truly wonderful,” she said.
“I wasn’t ready for him to come home,
and I don’t think he spent his time away working out what is important in life.
It’s going to be a rocky road ahead. If we can’t get along,
he will have to move to his parents, there is no other way, I can’t go on like this.
It is exactly like it was before he left, I’m a possession, not a person.”

“Yes, the kids and I get that – my wife just ‘wants’ things to brag that she ‘has’ them,
in this case a husband and children, and damn their happiness, they better be braggable,
otherwise they are fodder for her second-best passtime, vicious gossip,
and better if within earshot of the victim.
The only reason my marriage lasted is because I am completely selfless and indulgent
and have bent like a pretzel to keep it going, for the kid’s sake.
How could I have married such a monster? To study the down side of human nature,
for one, and because I had nothing to lose, love for me was unknown and unmissed,
so I could undertake such a venture.
But I have had a taste of love lately, with Jane, and here with you,
and now I can envision a heaven after hell... sorry, I’ve been rambling on about me.
Do you think your husband’s behavior is a cultural thing, like ‘machismo?
It is a sad, blind, and cruel mindframe to be in...”

“I’m a selfless person too,” she replied.
“But I am learning that being a selfless person in the world we live in today
is not a healthy trait at all, it will only bring us closer to the hell
we are so desperately trying to avoid...” then she continued, addressing me directly.
“Perhaps being selfless requires that we put ourselves first once in a while,
perhaps you weren’t meant for the road you’ve walked on for so long;
perhaps your selflessness is needed elsewhere, have you ever thought about that?”
and her deep green eyes blazed with an irresistible passion...

“Yes,” I confessed. “Perhaps my choice was a test on the most evil thing I could find.”
Then I paused, and looked directly back at her, caught in her gaze...
“You know where we are breathlessly headed, don’t you? We are falling in love...”

Then I continued, not breaking our gaze. “The question is, where will it all lead, and I know where I’d like it to lead.
I just told someone that the biggest problem with interactive writing is heartbreak –
both the giving of it and the receiving of it.
If you and I can just avoid that, and keep interacting, we are way ahead of the game,
especially if good, publishable writing comes of it, and...” I said apologetically,
“I don’t want to lose you because of love...”

“I don’t know if any two have figured it out yet,” I added, as I broke our gaze.
“To love one another to death, and not have it fall apart...”

“There is a macho mentality with some Aussie men, but not all,” she said, filing away what I had just confessed.
“With my husband, it could be a cultural thing,
he expects me to do what I’m told, have babies,
and wash the skid marks out of his underwear.
I was brought up to believe that a man should open doors for you,
shower you with love and affection, and treat you like a lady.
I don’t expect all of those things, but a little every now and then would be nice.
He used to do those things. He has been back a day and a half,
and he hasn’t even tried to kiss me or hold me or look at me like I’m desirable.
All he does is tell me all the things I could have done better.
I need love and affections, I am already overwhelmed with insecurities and self-criticism.
Maybe love doesn’t exist. Maybe it is something we create in our minds to escape reality...”
“See,” she said, “I’m going on being negative, and I’m not a negative person!”

“It reminded me of my first date with my wife," I related.
“My face was all scrunched up into a disgusted ball,
and I had suddenly realized it, and wondered why,
and it turned out to be a reaction to the miserable person sitting across from me!
I asked myself, 'Do I need this for the rest of my life?'
Apparently I did... I’ve been married to her for 23 years now...”

I offered her more advice. “Tell him flat out, ‘Look, I already have enough self-criticism
to last a lifetime; you need to give me support, or you’re out!’ That may shake him up.”
“I’d like to shake him up,” she replied, “by the throat...”
“Well,” I offered, “I didn’t say you couldn’t, while you were telling him, it may add to the effect...!”

She needed her beauty sleep once again, an we bid one another a good night.
“I will wave to the stars for you. They asked why you haven’t spoken to them lately.
I said it was because you have laryngitis... not sure if they believed me,
so now it’s up to you. Good night. Talk to you tomorrow. MWAH.”
“I will speak to the stars tonight,” I said. “I will ask them if they are jealous when you kiss me;
and here, have a big four-hour-long kiss back... and with that, I’m exhausted,
but I’ll keep one eye open if you wake up and need to spill your guts to someone...”


“What are you doing in the bar? It is 10:30 in the morning!” I exclaimed.
“Let me sling you over my shoulder, and I’ll carry you home...”
“PUT ME DOWN!!! I SAID PUT ME DOWN!!!
The moon has been watching me fall from bar to bar all night.
The moon will back me up. PUT ME DOWN!!!”
“Such a wildcat!” I shouted, “Biting and scratching to get away,
ah, wild things will never be tamed... well, it was nice while it lasted...”
“I’m not a tamable creature,” she replied. “If you take away my untamed nature,
you take away my character. I am untamed, or I am not me...
Now buy me a fucking drink in that fancy bar. I’ll put pants on, I promise...!”
“Hmmm,” I thought, “Buy you a drink and you’ll put your pants on... so...
if I DON’T buy you a drink, then... nah! I’ll give you a lift again!
Oh my god, you have a nice, soft... um... oh... I’m blushing....
Raise the flag, raise the flag!”
“Shoosh, your mouth is dirty!” she exclaimed. “Don’t forget, I AM A LADY!”
“Ah,” I said, “Bear calls, it is in trouble again.
Here, take the keys to the red Ferrari convertible unicycle;
without your pants on, no one will notice you...”
She replied, although a bit slooshed in incoherency,

“I always take care driving Ferrari convertible unishycles,
I’ll let you know how I go saving Bear from inevitable challenges of life...
good luck on your side of bear’s savoir...
We’ll meet in DaizeeBlue’s bar for a couple of bottles of wine
once we’ve rescued those in need... xx.”


When I returned the next evening, she was nursing her hangover.
I made her a piece of self-image toast, to cheer her up...



“Hey,” she exclaimed, “That’s a little creepy... like I’m stuck inside the toast,
saying, ‘Help, help, let me out, or I’ll have to eat my way out of here...”
“I think I see a business opportunity,” I said. “Self-image toasters...”
“I’m pretty sure ‘sexy’ toast would sell much better,” she mused.

That night, I wrote a poem about Jane... and about my relationship here,
where this relationship’s sand may be running out, due to my age...

I found her with it next morning. “Do you only fall in love with women
whose name rhymes with yours?” she asked, emotionally.
“What more do you need than a shoulder to lean on?
I saw the moon in the sunny, blue sky again today.
I waved and smiled, knowing you were on the other side sleeping
and waiting for your new day to bring you that little bit closer to happiness.”
She continued, “No more walking in tatters, no more shattered, my friend.
I have some duct tape, bandages, a bottle of whiskey
and a friendly shoulder you can lean on any time.”
and I imagined that she came over and kissed me...
“I was just checking in to see how you’ve been,” I said.
“My shoulders are big this week if you need them...
and for heaven’s sake, I hope I didn’t break your heart with that ‘sand’ thing...”
“You? Break my heart? No way, don’t even think like that!!
I haven’t been too good actually, I spent 36 hours in bed this weekend
depressed and feeling sorry for myself. Long story, so I’ll keep it short.
I went out with a friend after work and we decided to drop in on another friend
who was having quite a catch up for her birthday;
I arrived to her husband telling me I wasn’t welcome in their home
because I’ve said this and that about their family, and I’m this and that.
He’s a very aggressive, scary man, it freaked me out!
This horrible girl was inside smirking and loving it.
She’d been telling him lies, nasty, nasty lies.
I never said a bad word about any of them, I love them. It was humiliating.
I’m really angry with myself too – I cried, that little bitch saw me cry.
She must have been so happy to see me hurt and upset like that.
I’ve tried so hard to rebuild my life after the breakdown
but all it takes is one cold-hearted person to destroy all the hard work.
She’s only doing it out of jealousy,
her ex-boyfriend would stand up for me when she attacked.
The broke up EIGHT MONTHS AGO, and she’s attacking me because of it,
and I’m only friends with him, that’s it. She is so irrational and childish...
Sorry, I feel like such a whiner. It’s like I’m only ever talking about poor me.
I’m not really like that, I’m usually happy and bubbly and optimistic.
I just can’t believe how many people would believe her.
Has the world gone crazy? Blah blah blah blah me... talk about needing to vent...!”

“Well,” I said, “First let me bask in your voice for a few minutes,
I haven’t seen you in a few days... and you can whine and blubber all day to me,
your little outpouring was quite short here...
and that was really a sad scene you described, you crying,
wanting to tell the guy that none of it was true...
and then you being down for days, why can I relate to that, too? I’m really feeling that...”


The next day I greeted her. “Hit me with some boo-hoo.”
She offered a big smile. “Hey, you! How am I supposed to boo-hoo now, with that?
Well, pretty easy, actually. I got an abusive phone call at work from hubby –
he was going over the phone bill and credit card transactions...
I called a friend in the States. What the fuck is wrong with that?
and I bought some clothes because I lost 13kg from stress
and nothing fits me anymore. What the fuck is wrong with that?
So I get home and he says he’s going to move out for a while,
that I can’t be trusted, and he says I need to see a psychiatrist
because I’m not the same as I used to be;
I asked him if it was because I refuse to be subservient anymore,
and he said, ‘Yes’...
He doesn’t like that I don’t do everything he tells me to,
and he’s concerned about my ‘state of mind’.
He says he feels the distance is growing between us each day;
it’s probably because I refuse to cave to the ‘master’...
anyway, I’m planning a trip to Laos, going on my own, can’t wait!
I need a new life. Know anyone who’s selling theirs?
How are you, darling? Have you heard from Jane at all?
You know the mermaid left, maybe due to the comments I’ve been leaving...
you know I love your frickin guts you know, you’re a good friend... xx”

“Ah, the old ‘independent woman’ syndrome that macho men can’t deal with;
good for you, just give him a few ‘listen, buster’s’...
it all comes down to the woman needing to grow and be a person,
and many of today’s women can point to who brings home the most bacon...
it is that way in Jane’s case – she is grateful that her husband turned her into a trophy,
but she failed to see that at the same time he stamped the life out of her...
so you’re going to go get some ‘laos-laos’ direct from the source, eh...
ah, if I weren’t such a practical person, and were free...
well, I can write about ‘our’ adventure, you’ll have to keep me updated...
here, have a squeeze, real hard...”

“I was always an independent woman,” she said.
“Somewhere along the line that independence was crushed.
I want it back, I need it back or I’ll go crazy!
I am definitely the token trophy wife.
He, lord and master of me, has just told me that he will play soccer at 5,
them come home and collect his things, moving out for a bit,
so his crazy, independent (hahahah) wife can realize she’s a nutcase
and needs someone around to wipe her arse for her (excuse the crass language).
I have enough bullshit to deal with, he’s just adding to it by being unsupportive.
I wish I could get a cuddle. I need a decent cuddle,
but could I trust you to keep your hands to yourself?”
“Sure,” I replied, “I’ll just cuddle, and let you take it from there...”
“I probably won’t do much more than wrap myself around you, legs and all,
I’m a fantastic cuddler, kind of like ‘human valium’...”
“Mmmm, I can live with that...” I jokingly replied.
“I’m being completely serious now,” she said.
“Lately I’ve been treated like I’m some kind of despicable excuse for a human being,
like I’m some kind of nutcase. You don’t think that’s true, do you?
I’m a good person with a heart big enough for everyone to climb into.
I’d never do anything to hurt anyone.
I feel like I’ll always be known as ‘the girl who screwed up and had a breakdown’.
It’s embarrassing. It’s keeping me in a box that I don’t belong in. I hate where I’m at.
I just want to give in and run away forever...”

“Well,” I told her, “I did not know you when you had this breakdown or screwed up,
all I know is who I’ve known – a sweet, electric, hard-drinking wild-woman...
and I must add supportive, and a very loyal friend...
and a soapbox philosopher in a bikini, can’t forget that...
and someone who I like to make smile, because I can feel her pain...
and anyone who sends their heart out is bound to have breakdowns...
I’ve had complete nervous breakdowns just doing interactive writing,
it took months to recover and return... but one comes back stronger and wiser...
ready to drag the heart over the coals again...”

“Thank you!” she said, appreciatively.
“During the breakdown all I did was try to support my friends,
and I fell in love with someone who wasn’t my husband.
My husband already told me he wanted to sleep with other women,
so I thought our marriage was over.
The guy I fell in love with abandoned me – I fell to pieces. End of story.
Now I’m the most evil person who ever walked the earth,
except in my husband’s eyes, even he admits I did nothing wrong.
I was desperate for someone to love me and take care of me, that’s all.
all I ever did was try to make everyone happy, everyone but me...”

“Well, considering my marriage, I can’t blame any love-starved person
for seeking it, love, I’ve been told, ‘is worth it’...
but I guess there are many things that determine whether it works out or not,
maybe love is like an egg that needs a lot of effort to protect...”

“Perhaps,” she added; “There are times when love is too fragile,
and when it is broken, there are too many fragments, so small
that they couldn’t possibly be put back together without blemishes...”
“Well,” I said, “Better to move on at that point, give it a nice burial.”
“I don’t want to lose my marriage!” she shot back.
“I want us to be what we used to be, is that asking too much?
We used to be so happy, the perfect couple. How could it go so wrong?
I’m scared we’re destined to fail,
I don’t want to lose my marriage. I don’t want to lose my beautiful home.
I don’t want to lose his family, who I’ve grown close to...
there are so many things I’ll lose if our love fails.”

“Well, you could grab him and slap him around until he remembers what you had,
no woman wants a guy who gives up so easily on what was once a good relationship,
but then again, he doesn’t see love as a fragile egg, no one does, we just discovered it.”

“I'm quite sure he doesn’t realize how lucky he is to have someone like me.” she replied.
“How many wives would say, “Of course, my love,
if you would like to go to the running of the bulls in Pamplona, I would not stop you –
go with the 'boys' - have the time of your life.’
Or ‘I didn’t realize you've always wanted to trek in Laos & Cambodia, please my darling, go - you may never have another chance you know???'
Seriously... how many wives would do that?
How many wives would give that kind of freedom to their husband?
I would never hold him back from living... it's a shame he can’t do the same for me.”

I offered my immediate thoughts. “There is a mutual understanding missing, and that ‘give me freedom and I’ll return to you’ trust;
maybe it is not trust, but love, or right back to that ‘understanding’...
this could tie one’s head in a knot... there is also the cupcake issue,
one can get gluttonous over them, better to enjoy the sweets with but one...”

I could see that I wasn’t quite hitting the mark, or helping much, and it was getting late.
We silently turned in for the night...


I began experimenting with my author name, mostly for amusement.
“What’s with all the name changes, shithead?” she asked.
“To get people with hangovers to go ‘bwarf’?” I replied, questioningly.
“BWARF!!! I have a hangover from hell, just sobering up at work now.
I need to pewk...”


 

 Chapter 9: Presents, and a Goodbye

So the week flew, and I treated her like a princess.

We exchanged secrets about one another’s gender...

I discovered that she, as ‘woman’, liked shoes and handbags,
flowers and chocolates, clothes and perfume,
single malt whiskey and Belvedere vodka and red wine,
and retro knick-knacks and hideously ugly things that make her laugh,
and diamonds and sparkly things that make her look pretty...

and in general, simply someone to love her and take care of her;

So I indulged her during my time with her, and found great joy in her joy
of my finding joy in her joy, which gave her joy,

and she won out, receiving gifts...
and I won out, at the dinner table, and in the long, late quiet evenings...

I began. “I did a little shopping, and I asked myself,

‘What would you like from me?’

"and did the answer echoed back, ‘Surprise her...?’ ” she replied.

“Yes, just what a little voice told me... so, my darling, here,

I brought you a few gifts...

here is the first, and I did not think much about it,
and it is kind of a common gift,

for it was a spontaneous choice from my heart;

so do not diminish my love for you because of it...”

"here it is..."



“Is it a kitten?”

“No... Open it. See? Just a set of pearls... a necklace and earrings...”



Her face shone as if she held a glowing orb...

“Oh, they do look lovely on me, don’t you think?”

I nodded, but I only noticed her happiness,

and it was lovely...

“Here is another... go ahead, shake it...”



"Oh, my goodness, what could it be? Is it a giraffe?
A bench made of jumbo jets?"

“No... open it... see?

It’s... this thing... I thought it was cute, in a hideous way...”



“That’s so fantastic! (poking it) I don’t even know what it is! I love stuff that doesn’t make any sense. YAY!!! Just what I always wanted... a THINGAMEE-JIG...!”

(In a way I was glad she hadn’t figured out what it really was)...

“Lol, ok, one more, and you'll love it...”



“I can’t get it open, the ribbon seems to be stuck;

help me out...”

“ok...” (rip... tear... tug... bite...)

“A bona-fide pair of white leather 60’s go-go boots...”



“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKK!”
“They are FANTASTIC!! See me go-go dance? Can you see me?”

“Yes, I will dream of us dancing together down the runway,

everyone smiling, clapping, and cheering...”

The next morning was time for me to return home.
I caught an early Qantas flight,
and my heart was pressed against the window
during the entire take off, and right on up into the clouds...

She glanced out her office window and saw the jet

streak across a half-moon rising;

and she wondered if, on the other side of the world,

someone held the other matching half, waiting for her...

based on interactions, derivations, and crazy conversations with TheLyricsArePoetry