grub street

beatnik babies sway to 'da beat
fast cash drops, picked money from Ties
five dollar meals fuel me and my dreams
street beat savings for window display prize

fructify

My last semester and I'm just as productive as ever. I was really hoping for a break, especially since I've worked so hard every year, all my life. Not sure what I'm even getting in the end. I guess when you always strive for the better, you're stuck with you dedicated goals. Only to discover, dreams change, opportunities arrive, some disappear, and all your plans complicate. Really, what I'm taking now is unnecessary, but I believe, I want to learn. For me, I believe that when I leave I'll grow. And maybe I'll take you with me. Dreams change, and I'll take on everything if it means I get you.

spindrift

on the living coast, crowds watching the spindrift in the sea. seafoam air welcomes, kisses the coral castle of ocean blue dividing the sticky algae green. our cameras flash on the fine-grain sand, 2-carat diamond fine. red carpet ready drapes the oyster like a baby nestled in a mother's arm, heart beat, ba ba bum, ba ba....boom open. man can't conceive the pearl with golden hair, Venus, love of beauty, birth from immortal fingers spin water.

congeries

each shell was separated into their distinct category. bivalvia, scaphopoda, gastropoda. meticulously scripted labels in white. but there was one group that stood out. amāre. a collection of shells of no scientific purpose but of memories. the jagged fragment of a sand dollar missing its matching piece where the arrowhead breathed. an eroded cockle molded smooth by sea tales. sprinkles of coquinas lay next to the partial curvature of gold, white and sunset of a pear whelk. each piece in its incomplete form stood to offer more than the others. a tribute to the heart.

apercu

Corner of 6th and Park, I'm waiting to cross among the horde of us well-bred (we hope) and well-dressed (we really hope). The usual split-second light is still running green, letting cars overrun pedestrians: machine versus man on a city boxing pathway. Waiting on this corner always feels like forever, and we all have places to go that don't involve you. Time likes to play long jokes, so I give in and fix my skirt the wind tried to buy from me. Hair too. Hell, I open the pale blue magic of a brand to pull out my lipgloss as well. Open, twist, apply and purse lips. I'm always standing on some corner, idly fidgeting, trying to find myself. Whatever streets I run across, traveling to big box-lego blocks, I'll find some temporary piece of mind, like all of us, when the light fades red and the white man flashes me by.

----
I watch the corner from the deli, the beautiful, the smart. People waiting impatiently for life to fly by them.

As if this moment didn't matter.

The lady with the big sky bag is diggin for something to solve her problems, but she's not going to find it in a purse. No, answers don't come in a shiny red tube, nor do they have time to visit when we're running bye-bye. Here at crosswalk heavens, moments surpass time.

derelict

The four of us sat here because this place let us see above everyone. We could see everything and hear idle chatter, motor groans and chirping walkways. Temporary escape from the city by watching above it. We watched today because Matt was gone. Thirty-two years short of happiness and left us with broken eyes, solid tears and swollen hearts. Looking over the balcony ledge we would set him free. What if I fell and no one could catch me, one of us quietly thought. What would Matt say right now if he were here, another one of us wondered. Our words lay silent against the ashes. We each grabbed a handful, soft soot melting through cracks in our hands, Matt slid through our fingers again, this time among buildings and skyline. He had climbed himself higher than us, without us, because we didn't understand. He had fallen harder than any of us but by then it was too late. The pavement didn't stop him, his mind already had. Ashes clung to our open hands.

interlocutor

Listen, closely.
Then tell me what you hear.

burgeon

baby i ain't no cheap trick you can bend when you feel like on a whim when you never share anything with me, despite everything i've done for you, yet you still ask me to give, more and more, and so much more, but baby because i'm strong, because i know what i'm going to become if i stay here and rot, i'm moving on and on to get away from you so i can grow, when God pours water on my soil, I'll sprout and grow and grow, and grow into a tree so tall and tough that it will shadow you, and I'll know baby, you won't have a chance

Quodlibet

We were dancing outside underneath a country star-studded sky. Joe decided that the bar should have a dance night again, so we all supported him even if we all didn't have dates. It'd been five years and I was still slow. But Joe wanted this, and who can say no to Joe? We continued dancing when the music picked up to a fun, familiar little tune. The music and words clashed with my heart pumping beats. I could hear Joe say, "Well darlin' let's start moving," like usual when we heard a good song. I picked up my skirt and swirled it around as we two-stepped out. Joe turned me around, "Thank you for this." Five years, and I was still so slow.

ramify

We could take a chance if you let me. We could talk if you let me. We could talk about the past, what happened between us, why things fall apart. We could talk about now, how we've grown. Ask how we've been and where we are going. We could talk about out passions, our friends, our new lives. We could talk about what we've learned from each other, our mistakes and how we're better people now. We could give each other a chance. We could talk.

coruscate

Each sequin is hand sewn with intricate care and detail. He stares at the glittery creation that has already taken weeks of his life. This dress is the one. As he thoughtfully runs his thin, nimble fingers through the plush silk, he takes heed of how the fabric drapes on the model's body. She's grown bored and is looking out the window wishing to be at the restaurant across the street so she can give up her dietary restrictions. But the temptation is too great. The popularity contest, the free gifts, the beautiful clothes. His beautiful clothes and craftsmanship. This is how she affords his price, his innovation. As she looks down at the dress, its sparkle twinkles in her eyes.

hypnagogic

The darkness of light casts itself in gray over the sky. Roads painted with rainslicked cars run in and out of the city. In our room all we see is gray. Even the trees are gray. Once we turn off the ambient glow of false sun, the room remains dark. Gray like the sky. The stark contrast is overwhelming temperature. Hot here. Cold out there.
From the window we see someone walk by, rain boots tackling sloshy puddles with a quick one-two step. The water leaps and sticks to the boots, slipping whimsically back down to the ground. The rain traveler turns and looks at us through the window and points to the sky, smiling as if she knows the biggest secret.

deasil

I watched him as he moved around the kitchen in a frenzy hurry, hands whipping the egg whites in a clockwise direction. After 10 minutes they were beginning to froth into white mounds in hopes of becoming fluffy clouds. "We're making the best macaroons!" he said with pure delight at the notion that this time it would work. This time we would make it.
Last time he fervently kneaded the dough for cookies. It was a year ago when we put the Hershey Kisses into the center of each baby mound. That was the second time he left. This time, this time things are different he told me when I opened the door to let him into my life again. I watched him drop the balls of fluff onto the tray, white and innocent, like hope.
"This is going great. See how perfect they are?"
"Yeah," I mumbled, half-smiling at him, half-looking at the mixing bowl in the sink. Bubbles and water residue from a quick rinse. I glanced back at him as he pushed the tray into the oven knowing tomorrow he wouldn't be there to enjoy them.

soidisant

The monotone ringing of the phone. Okay, breathe, this is your call. The weeks of preparation: knowing who you are talking to, understanding their situation, relaying what you learned to help them. Yes, they have a problem, and you are here to fix it. You have the solution. As the phone rings, your confidence grows. The receiver clicks, "Hello?" Yes, this is your time to shine. "Hi, this is Shirley with AT&T, may I speak with the decision-maker of the house?"

career

With racetrack precision he cruised through the currents only to be caught off-guard by her stare.

imbue

crimson, violet, turquoise, emerald. the silk scarves tied onto her body gleamed from the gold thread embroidery. her body's movement caught the rise and fall of each color, creating an air show of floating butterflies. she turned increasingly faster as her heart beat faster. one two three four, my heart i give to you, five six seven eight, with you love you give yours too. in her head only romance existed as she danced, turning faster and faster until she collapsed onto the cushioned floor under the weight of her daydream. crimson, violet, then turquoise and emerald followed her wistfully down.

oblivion

This is easier she thought. Then I don't have to take responsibility and I won't get all the blame. No one else will have to worry about me, the complication. I can't stand all the yelling, the fighting, the hateful worrying remarks about my blatant stupidity. He doesn't even love me anyways. The day I told him I wasn't sure where my heart would be thrown. In the middle of nowhere now. She kept driving away from everything with the unborn baby thinking how the world would be better with her gone. She never felt her head hit pavement when her car veered off the road.

wildcatter

Things you learn in your line of work. A risky estimate to drill where oil might exist to lifeline fuel into cars, homes and greed’s pockets. How much is worth your time. At what cost are you satisfied. At what price are you sold. Why is this so wrong?

superjacent

The painting reflected raw emotion she decided as she stared at its crooked balance. She lay beside him breathing heavily. So this is what a real feast feels. When he was above her, she felt the warmth of his heart, breath and hands that skimmed over her breast. Sweat dripped down her neck as they shifted under the covers that blanketed their awkward nudity. The painting on the wall fell to the floor awakening him. “Did we do that?” he asked while turning to face her. The lovers muffled chuckles disappeared with each successive kiss.

bilious

The smell of sulfur and cigarette butts crept through the stifling air. No one was in sight until we walked towards the kitchen where a man, hunched over the sink, turned to face us.
“Whadya want?” he asked with a raspy tone. The grime on his teeth almost completely covered the yellow enamel that struggled to survive. I noticed a missing gap where a tooth once lived.
“We’re just looking for him.”
The man glared, “Get out! He’s not here anymore. Leave! Leave!” His eyes looked as if he’d throw the blade he tightly gripped in his bony hands. The glint of the blade was already red.

golden handcuffs

sometimes you're handed everything
but it's what you do with it that matters

i hate fall-backs on nothing

aleatory

Maybe they're signs
Maybe they aren't

But humans like to believe things happen for a reason, some things are predestined. Why else do we have faith--was God predestined as well? So what makes us choose. Ignore the signs, screw this backfired electricity we depend upon. When is free will our choice.

pandect

At a company where rules seem to not exist, their uncorporate philosophy dangles like bait. That worm on a hook in front of our oogling fish eyes. See. Wait. Bite. But it's catch and release in this sea. Their rules seem to defy what we've known. Will we be batched into the net?

ululate

You could hear moans coming down the soft dirt path. Not many people passed through these back woods of rusting car parts, torn tree limbs and stale air. But the air, however foul, ran with her cries. Three-years-old and already a slave to typhoid. He could all but say, "mama" when he fell asleep.