my mother taught me

miah wrote this for me last year

my mother taught me,

my mother taught me to offer
help in the kitchen.
she taught me to linger behind at the sink
after guests are finished eating.
she taught me to kindly, converse with those cooking
and compliment them on anything genuine.
due to her influence,
i hold people differently
and i inquire about their well being more intently.
my mother taught me to love men
who are
hard and selfish.
and shade their jagged outlines in
with generosity and compassion.
my mother taught me
that it is necessary
to fill all hollows in without question,
for it is a subconscious habit,
aligning you with a let down
and a crime.
my mother lays beside cactus in her bed
and makes love to them.
she is stung, but still moves under her sheets
and then showers and retreats, to her stove
while i tend to her sink.

-yourwarrior

new style

I left my twenties on a dance floor out in Havasu the summer of '96. The boys were trying to buy me some Sex on the beach, slammin the jello shots. CHP's finest were opening up the party to me and my girls- we brought along the boys we met from Pitt. Oooo the night was so nice. Havasu could party Philly style and I didn't know a person there! I was moving cross country and stumbled- schmack... in the middle of McKee's.

Only weeks before I had left my freedom in a '79 Pumpkin Orange Volvo Stationwagon, somewhere in Bucks County PA… nearly being dug out of a snow bank- buried in the Blizzard of the century… leaving me to walk to and from work sporting a Fine selection of Carhartt Beanies and Sweatshirts.

Come to think of it, I left my style in the bathroom hamper of our one room apartment behind the pizza shop in ..Alameda… Married again. Broke. Baby number 2 on the way… Wore my Aldo boots till the soles fell off. Haven't seen much of her in a decade. The girl who showed up with style- her favorite accessory being a Chill FWB, in his Doc's- making their way to whatever city the other was in.

Lately I thirst for Philly… to taste the air for a weekend. The smells on Broad and some Jungle Fever Eye candy. Damn! Philly has got some Effin Hot mens.

I left Philly and Hippie me landed in SFO- with a man who sat me on his lap in front of his friends and announced to give him 3 months and I'd look like Cindy Crawford. Hell, from wince I came, I was Cindy Crawford. I was a fish out of water here. Naw, I ain't the Zesty salsa Doritos of the bunch- but I wasn't used to not being enough…
Somehow I still held on to what was left of my self confidence until an argument, me sitting in my farm house in Delaware- him here in Scottsdale… a few years back. He wasn't sure how I'd make it here cause they don't have fat girls in Phoenix. I tell you, what I had left of esteem was trampled that afternoon... Down the drain of the Kitchen Zink. Till lately.

Guess What- They do have Fat girls in Phoenix. I'm one of 'em.
You know what they don't have as much of on the scene? They ain't got so much Cultured, Artistic, Tree Hugging, Educated, Articulate, Gourmet Cook, Love Machine Givers. They were a little short on those- So I gladly fill that Bill.

I was in a position to do a very nice thing for someone last week… quiet… understated… stalkerish. East Coast- that's what it was. It was an East Coast thing to do, to make sure a day was made- and I wouldn't get one ounce of credit for it. My efforts were met with a very complimentary and appreciative response… That response just re-grounded me.

My twenties may be getting kicked around a dance floor in Havasu; my freedom may have been sold with that Hippie Wagon and my style may have been shoved to the back of the closet to raise these kids… But my heart- it Ain't been compromised, not one little bit. I love that!

I miss dancing all night. I especially need a new car. I would love to fly to Philly for some New York hair and Jill in concert… I can't wait to move to NorCal and I am not losing weight anytime soon… But I got a circle of friends I wouldn't trade one of those relics for. I'm doing alright for a country girl- with a kick ass music collection!

a d d y l a y n e

I've told you before- I have some cool kids.
I'm listening to Chappelle's Block Party CD right now… Addy was in the room listening to The Roots.. My CD lands on "You got me" So Addy forwards her CD To "You got me" on her CD. Throws open her door and says- MOM I love listening to music- but I can listen to both of our songs a the same time…" So proud.

Just picture her, The Hippie. Belled jeans, the bottoms long and torn up at the heel. A long sleeve green Henley with a red t-shirt over top that says "Love is all you need. Beatles" Chunky thick framed purple glasses… and that Fro! It's peeking out under her green Hanky for a doo-rag.

By the time the music has moved on to The Beatles, Come together- she is skateboarding down the hall on the board Miah left… " Come together, right now, over me…" Thud. "Mom, wouldn't it be funny if you ran to me just then when I was singing that Come together?"

Giggle.

Not one of my kids fits into a familiar box where being a kid is concerned. Addy has been invited to be 1 of 20 students in her school to join a new club called "O's Ambassadors" An organization for kids to help Oprah make a difference for kids. That's right up Addy's ally. Monday is the first meeting and they are starting off with Poverty in the World.

I look forward to how this opportunity is going to mold and shape Addy. She's a future tree hugger with some life to experience before she can connect with people on a more human level and know where they're coming from.

Miah- she might run off with the PeaceCorps and start some No Panty Wearing Band in some remote village way far away.
Nazy- She'll be a doctor like her dad and Find the Cure for Breast Cancer and AIDS.

But Addy, she's going to be holding the hands of those people while she brings food on a big boat, to feed their kids.
She'll skate through the streets with her book of songs in her backpack- listening to some cool music, taking phenomenal pictures, all around the world….
After all- she was student of the month in her Piano Class for October and she said: "When I grow up I want to be a Vegetarian Artist living in Germany…"
Tomorrow morning she gets student of the month for her class in school- wonder what she wants to be when she grows up this month…

Re-Telling

A Re-Telling :

Scraping myself up off of the sidewalk, I was trying to raise my girl. I really didn't know how expensive NorCal was. I was struggling. Habib had told me countless times, that he had a friend who needed a roommate. ( Later I find out the friend didn't need a roommate, Habib was just helping me out.) So that Thursday night, "Sam" was supposed to meet me outside RoundTable. I was to wait for him at 9.
A Jokester shows up and picked on me for a bit, without saying his name. Ends up this is Sam, covered with flour from making Pizza's at his Uncles Pizza Shop. We hop in his Monster Jeep and head back to his little one room Apartment behind A-Town. Tiffany was there and she and I talked most of the night while Sam slept.
Then I wake up in the morning. I am on a mat on the living room floor…. Sam, with the flour in his hair, is gone. An Adonis is standing in his underwear, putting gel in his gorgeous long locks. From head to toe he is a beautiful man. The muscles in his legs- his nicely trimmed feet. I don't want to get caught looking (staring) So I pretend 'sleep.
Sam goes to school. Tiffany takes me back to her place and makes me breakfast. I think she really likes him. Sam comes back from school and we head up to Lucky's for some rotisserie chicken. We spend the afternoon in the livingroom floor laughing, listening to Zeppelins IV and playing cards… I stay and talk while he makes Pizza dough and that's when I am asked… "Is Sam hitting on you?"
Are you nuts? I'm not Sam's type. No. We are just talking.
And we go back to what is now OUR place. We talk for hours. He calls me brave. Asks me if I want my girl and says he'll help. Tells me I've been a good mom to do what I've done for her… I kissed him. First on the arm… then the mouth. One thing led to another…
I'm not his type. Look at my baggage. I just dropped it at his feet… why does he want me? I woke up in his arms and swore to myself, "I will learn to have casual sex right now. With this man." Breath. But his arms were around me so tight. Like my life mattered to him. Like I was the other half of his wondering . His breath feels like home and his skin smells like what morning should smell like… Fresh and clean. He's Comfortable - Like a friend. A friend who knows how you take your coffee and how you like Avacodo and tomato on your breakfast bagel… just like that. Home.
I'm scared to death. I can't let this go and I can't trust him that he is being sincere with me. What's in it for him? For me? And It all just runs away with us.
We're instantly in love. Crazy love. Crazy Love.
Within weeks we're planning our wedding. ( I feel like I need to apologize here in hind-sight. ) God he's a beautiful man. Not just the chest that comforts my cheek… but His Good. His Giving. His Self. Him - Wholly.

Happy 11th Baby.

That was his 11th Anniversary ScrapBook entry.

***sexology***

I'm a bit confused. Every magazine I pick up and every Oprah I watch seems to be implying that 'they can tell me how to have the best sex of my life.' Be it over 30, 40 or 50.
How do you gauge these things?? Now I know he wasn't having 'his' best sex- obviously the grass is greener on the other side and he knew that somehow. But me? I was having the best sex of mine.
I'm really not sure what the meter is on the good sex stick. Are they assuming that the 80's data claiming women struggle with orgasm is still the case?? I don't know a woman who isn't cuming, multiple times for that matter. Sure I know women who don't give head and certainly don't swallow. Even a few that won't have it with the lights on still. But for the most part, I am surrounded by freaks in the bed with shrink wrap for p*ssy!
How would you take that test to determine whether you're having the best sex of your life?? Are we as a society, really too busy to take it outside once in a while, wear sexy goodies and reinvent foreplay as a way of life? Do you have to crawl into bed under camera and be critiqued or can you be your own judge? We can't very well compare ourselves to the flix, with the digitally enhanced hoo-haa's. That's just depressing… and only Trin has the tits of a Porn Star in my circle. The rest of us are enjoying sex in the back yard just fine.
We have it coming from all directions. Either our bodies don't match up and we are hoarding a little jar in the top of the glass cupboard, saving nickels for our Peachy Tuck (Labiaplasty) – somewhere after the 20th glimpse of an especially perky and equally trimmed Pu-tang … or someone on TV thinks they know how to have sex better than we do.
I only take offense because I listen to friends question what they have to offer as a result of these obsessions. I want for us as a media to feel open about sex. I guess I just thought it could help us see how we are more alike than different.
I may not like myself naked, but that won't get in the way of me expressing myself- nor making requests for expressions I would as well enjoy. Why does the media box us all in??

(Sure, I have a jar in the top of my cup cupboard. It's only $3500 and I can look like a 22 year old down there again… Guess I hope by the time I come up with the other $3480 I can think of a better way to spend it.)
Anybody knows a friend who likes homecooked meals and a little cushion for the …… have 'em look me up. ;)
In the mean time, I boycott the Cosmo and Oprah. I've been having a blended orgasm for years!!

penance

I made a decision- to leave you with more than I took.
The moments before I turned on my heels- I filled the glass to the brim.
-Cleaned your house, down to the baseboards. Dropped off a tube and some grub as my sacrifice to the alter you call ego.
You can hole up for the winter- something to eat and the comfort of background noise. You've been left with many a soundtrack for our years. You've come on the other side gaining legal claim to your foot on US sand and 2 children to carry in your wallet for prosperity- I'm sure those beauties flash well when display is running short. ( i.e.- the Benz, the House or Dolce for threads)
I've walked from your door leaving you fuller than I found you. -Tidied up and made you clean. I'd like to be invisible now- as Penance for my Efforts

WHORE

Dont hold my face in your hands
and lie in my eye
we both know the lack of who I am.
Your lips
may be moist and sweet-
But remember
I know the smell of dishonesty
in both
your and my sheets.
Sure I allow myself to be your
Wild
Haired
Ornery
Revolving
Expression
of the many faces you've come to hold
Only now I know to accept it.

amy lynn

pressed

I caught you today, nose pressed to the glass of the window- trying to sneak a glimpse of my night. Did you find the glass warm? Were you at home in the smells sneaking under the crack of the door? Did you think the fella lounging in what used to be your big chair as beautiful as I do? MM. Could you read his lips? You recognized his gratitude without syllables to fill your ears?
You're glimpse becomes a stare. You're visit was prolonged by the ache. You get lost in the whats coming next . . . you read it all like a novel when it's your current event.

For a moment I was alarmed, you hanging on every word. I was able to just pretend you weren't there. I've been in your shoes. Lost in a world I don't recognize as mine looking to be filled in how you choose to spend YOUR time . . . but I could never keep it up. So I found my own. The conversation is so rich, the food so damned nourishing and the solitude - just bigger than sound. I'm learning a new language and rekindling the relationships that define me.

I learned it while my nose was pressed to your bedroom window- bed empty every night in search of latest adventure . . . falling into the sheets after 6 or 4. Resting like you'd never been so full-filled in all your life. I wanted to sleep like that. Full- with peace for my journey. Knowing I'm climbing to the top, not just sitting at the bottom waiting for you. I no longer want to be on that path next to you. The people are far more interesting over here thanks.

For a long time, I would lend you my slant on culture- great music- the soul in blues guitar. In you, It never felt like home. You were all about a different scene- yet tonight, your nose is pressed to my window. The taste of our meal fills your mouth as if I brought a plate to the door, better yet invited you in.

I hope you can smell that I wore what used to be your favorite scent. If you stick around, you'll see him enjoy stuffed French toast and curling up to a live rare recording of something full bodied and deep while reading the Sunday paper- over his shoulder- nude and confident in my glow.

Really, guy. Peel yourself away from the edge of my life and remember- you had this. You threw it away.

We're done!

tandem

tandem
solitude in unison
tension pâté on stale baguette
water rusted from the stagnate
of words left tossed
on the bathroom floor
dishonest definitions - implications
that couples swords with feathers
go ahead, take a stab at that air!
this was my last attempt-
there's no welding your words to the wall.
my tongue is scarred thick
my wounds heal better
in solitude, tandem.
i'll nap a piece.
kiss a friend on the cheek
and make a big supper to fill this hole.
i'll cross the bridges i have yet to
burn and share my table.
to realize-
i've never felt more alone in all my life
then when by your side.
~a

the brokenroad

We had talked about her feelings on the issue for a few years. We were walking the blocks around the lease options and she was hell bent that I see her view on it all. I was distracted easily by the wood floors in that one property she passed up- but she brought us back to the topic.

Kay had a notebook inches thick with ideas about "The Broken Road" long before she even found a space, years before we opened it's doors. Waiting tables at a local café a few years ago, a customer offered her Stainless Prep tables and such- for when she makes that Restaurant a reality. She passed 'em up. They came up in more conversations than I can count for too many months after.

She always knew that she would have a little place of her own. The Décor, food- customers and what sort of hole the community needed filled. People were going to feel at home in our re-upholstered oversized chairs, the ample sun dancing through the large stainedglass windows, lots of reds and orange and a menu that most had sampled at her table over the years. Those who hadn't found there way to her table would be met with personal service- she'd just bring it to them. The French Onion Soup or Oatmeal Bread. It's in the love.

All up and running. The Autumn tree freshly painted on the Concrete Floor, branches running through the whole deal. A writers wall for local poets and story tellers. Freshly inked napkins pinned to branches running up the walls like leaves and Patrons staring at the souls of creative energies flooding corner to corner like paint. Rustic tables with local goods on display- Chutneys, Books of Local Poets, An Easle for whomever deems themselves artist, if only for the day. All the colors you can imagine to create and canvas behind the counter for the Instantly inspired. You needed a journal for a thought or flowers for your date- Kay had thought of everything. . . All the way down to Chef of the week where The Broken Road would feature a recipe and Menu Special right from Customers Kitchens.

She had made all of us a home away from home. It was beautiful on her. I never thought I would see her so full-filled. I wished it for her, but the day in fruition? I wondered.

A few months into our second season we were starting a quiet Tuesday morning. The Strawberries were dipped and the Iced Teas brewed. I recognized her interest being peeked in a passing glance and I had to double back. She noticed him different today than yesterday. It may have first been the Tulips he was rearranging in the Pitcher near her first publication. I think it could have had more to do with the way he said good morning and the genuine in his smile. Sure, Kay talks to everyone. She listens to all of your stories and has no problem sharing her own. She has lived an amazingly full life.. But when Kay asked him about his morning, it was different. When she responded by sitting down at the counter next to him I was sure of it. No really. Her interest was peaked.

See running from Prospect to Prospect when rolling up our sleeves to get real about this place- She said it, "My fear is that I won't know sincere when I see it. He's going to be right in front of me and I'll talk myself out of it because of this pain. I wouldn't recognize a loving man if he kissed me square on the mouth- uninvited."

She may have been wrong. I think she recognized sincere. Who cares about someones story if it makes them a person who loves like she does? Do you really care about what to them feels ugly when it means they will kick off their shoes for you in a bar fight if need be? They'd take on the world with you- one laugh, cry and pot of soup at a time.

I took a seat to roll yesterdays silverware. I was teary eyed for her. Hey, I'll not mention it till she does, but I'ma routin'! She looked him in his eye while they talked circles around the slow of the morning. After 9 on Tuesday's is traditionally quiet for us. I remember the flirt she is. I've called it an addiction, to be in a room with her. He saw it. He made it known. He was hooked to be right there with her- in conversation, laughing. The Gods were smiling for her to have the space to remember how she loves to laugh.

Have you seen her laugh? Really laugh when she knows you get her?

I loved her for most of our lives. I dreamed with her and for her. I've been her best friend and for small pieces of time, her lover. She always said No. I wondered what she was waiting for. I don't have to wonder any more. She found him. She doesn't know it yet, but that's him. Her new best friend. You do get what you give. The love that she put into her family- friends- this Café- even it's name. I had hoped for her that it would bring love to her again. I am grateful that she could trust it where she found it- in the home she made for all of us. The Broken Road.

your mouth

God I love your mouth. I always have. At first it was the way you speak… the way you form your words. It's always the first things I notice about any person. Sure their vocabulary or the way they string them along. But you caress words. They linger a piece longer in your mouth… while you're thinking of the next clever thing. Your brother does it too…

A few moments after I was hypnotized by the way your tongue relaxes and your lips seem to release bits of flirtations in slow motion -I was hooked on your smile. The way it's endless and broad. How you take meticulous care of your pearly whites. The wonder of the next time you will your place your mouth even near mine.

I think often of the first corner of my body you chose to grace with the soft of your kiss… You kissed the crook of my arm in the middle of an all nighter of conversation. You were breathing into my hair for hours, me on the floor, you over my shoulder on the bed. I have never wanted to be kissed so badly in my life.

Over the years you have said words that drew me in and others that made me fall to the floor with the blow to my gut. Often in the beginning I clung to the nurturing encouragement you shared with me. -But my favorite set of words has always been the way you say "GoodMorning." I'm not sure if you really know how sexy that word is on you. But it actually is the sexiest, down right take me to bed right now, thing you ever say- to any woman.

Sure I've lived in a very small pond all of my life. As large as the world is, our home has been my ocean. I figured it out though, what kept me there…

It was your mouth… and your hugs. Noone in the world hugs like you. You're beautiful.

Happy Birthday!

tattoo

Tattoo
I want to tattoo your kiss on the curve of my hip

Not the shape of your lips, but the wet of your mouth

The wet of your mouth and the evolution of the things you know

As you become,

The words will change

And the absence of language will only

Transcribe emotion

And I'll race out of my covers each Morning

To stand nude in my shower and

Watch a proverbial rain

bath the wet of your mouth,

Until the curve of my hip again,

Receives the shape of your lips.


A

magnanimus

Friday, the word of the day was Magnanimous. I had to look it up.

Magnanimous-
greathearted: noble and generous in spirit;
big: generous and understanding and tolerant;
showing or suggesting a lofty and courageous spirit; showing or suggesting nobility of feeling and generosity of mind

I like SAT words and I like even more when I can understand them. My favorite thing about this word is I am surrounded by magnanimous people… So I get to experience the word.

As I looked it up, I was appreciative to get to share my life with people who live inside of generosity of mind every day. I was just telling Jorge, I was never part of the click, ever. I have always been friends with folks here and there. We have commonalities and an alike openness. Places we intersect in one way or another. I have met them in rather random places in random ways. Most of them Glow, I mean full out glow when they walk in a room. They are the ones saying hello to everyone they see, holding the door, dancing with you all night the first night they meet you… They are outrageously honest and frank in conversation without reserve or quietly loving without cause, just in appreciation for the human conditions we share. And intertwined in that is a strong instinct to do the right thing with people… forgive what may seem unforgivable. Love where only confusion makes sense. To place tulips in what seems like a compost garden and whistle while they work.

I realized Friday, that I have been doing the right thing by me and my kids. Sure it hasn't made sense to everyone, but It's the only way I could have done this past year. I love him. Maybe he didn't keep his word. But I kept mine. That's all that matters to me.
Maybe when I grow up I will have earned my own SAT word…

Kisses,

A