It's a lie that sets you free


I have been spinning a conversation through my head. It started a few days ago on a park bench near my house next to an abandoned lot where kittens play. I love to watch the kittens darting out between the tall blades of grass. No, I am not taking another one home. Sitting there on the bench next to me was a guy just reading the paper. He could have been any guy. I would have thought he was much older than me just by the way he carried himself but I'd find out later he was 43 the age I was a few days ago. I forgot for a moment never to mistake shy for aloof. Hell people think I am aloof.

So he started the conversation asking if I was going to take a kitten home. Do I spit out my secret shame about having four? Hell no. I was considering before he spoke though that I could equate three cats to one dog and still have room for one more cat in the house and how I'd be doing the community a favor by rescuing an animal nobody wanted and then a flash in my head of me sitting on the sofa with four cats sitting all around me, on my lap, above my head on the sofa all wanting to be loved and how it freaked me out a little when they are all in the same room. No. No more cats.

We sat there talking for awhile. He was degreed could speak on things that were out of the ordinary and I just had this feeling that somewhere at his house there were star wars characters in boxes still in the "original packaging." I lived with one of these guys for three years. We even made love like Babylon5 characters. Yes, I was in love.

So this stranger tries to provoke me into a conversation about politics, even an argument. The GOP is pissed off because they lost and I try to temper that with how pissed off I was when the war started and I kept thinking even now, when we can microwave things and send up satellites we haven't figured a way around war and killing. I didn't go to peace rallies I just seethed in fear.I wanted to put my arms around him and say "don't be afraid. we lived through FDR and Reagan, oh gods, Reagan." I didn't say a word I just kept my mouth closed. I don't watch CNN enough to speak carefully, all my musings would be from the gut and a little piece of me smiling knowing I canceled out his vote. Besides, I love Republicans. My best friend is a Republican, I've had Republican lovers. David loved Reagan so much that we'd have little dinner conversations about the ten best presidents and when he spit that name out it almost made me smile in the end. If they love me for being a bleeding heart liberal or despite it, that's fine with me. I voted for hope, sometimes hope wins and even succeeds.

Religion is really like politics. Nobody wants to hear your personal views on this. Nobody wants to know that God is a living being if you let him be. Nobody wants to know who you voted for, not really. Nobody wants to know that when you have cramps, chocolate works. Nobody.

His attempts to draw me into an argument weren't working, I was too full of joy. Best Friend will be here soon. I felt free of some weight I've been carrying, I had a book in my head and a secret I've been carrying too. So, the war, taxes and this angry soul were the last of my worries. Tomorrow when I came here I'd wear a tie dye dress and a big peace symbol I'd wear like a talisman, maybe even a guitar even though I don't play.

We just chat and he says the most curious thing to me. He said if he found a good republican girl at the bookstore he'd give her a "shot." I was almost shocked at the idea of how insulting that word is. A shot. Shot. I suppose it's the same as saying I'd open my heart to that, I'd look at that, we'd have dinner, make all cozy, and I'd kiss her because it would be Friday and people should kiss on fridays. No, a shot. (at this point I am missing every charming man I've ever known, even the ones with hooves.) Why do people think that unattainable love is all that great? Seriously, Romeo and Juliet was special but they both died. Being apart from it, or aloof is foolish and let me tell you why. Nobody wants to work that hard to get to know someone who hasn't figured out that the word shot is horridly offensive. And if you make someone work that hard and you aren't everything they imagined in their heart that you better be the disappointment will swallow you like Jonah. That is simply why I'd can't really promote even my art. One time I listed a book I made on ebay. The bids kept going insane, $100 then $200 and I though Oh Gods I better stop this now or they will be horribly disappointed. We are our own worst enemy.

After sitting next to this guy for an hour I can promise you that anyone getting the shot here would be him. After she climbed the wall with her Uzi, after she pulled the brambles of fear from her legs, blood filling her shoes she'd be too exhausted to do the gymnastics it would take to get his pants off. Wait, he admits to being a virgin at 43. This topic seems to come up often anymore and I wonder why but don't ask, I don't want to crush his head like a bug.

"Well he tells me, it's the safest sex, masturbation." (Am I really discussing the war and masturbation on a park bench?) As Suzy would say, Ayup. He tells me VD rates are skyrocketing and there must be a 43 year old woman out there who hasn't had sex and when he finds her he's moving out of his parents house and running away with her. I made a mental note to buy a lottery ticket on the walk home and one of those candy bars with marshmallow on the inside. I blanked out at some point and was listening to James Blunt singing in my head:

I'm not looking for us
And neither should you.
Absolutely gorgeous,
Then nothing I say is true.
You won't find yourself
In these guilty eyes

'Cause I love anybody who's
Fool enough to believe
And you're just one of many who
Broke their heart on me
And so I say I don't love you,
Though it kills me
It's a lie that sets you free.

Love, love, love
I can't take your
Love, love, love

And so I say I don't love you,
Though it kills me
It's a lie that sets you free.

I will wrap my body
In other women's arms.
Make love in a hurry,
Feel better than I am.
Hope you find yourself
In someone else's eyes

'Cause I love anybody who's
Fool enough to believe
And you're just one of many who
Broke their heart on me
And so I say I don't love you,
Though it kills me
It's a lie that sets you free.

*******************************
I wanted to nudge him in his glasses from 1982 and tell him that he wouldn't want a woman who is a virgin at 43. It would take him 3 years to get her to say yes. I've been a little easy myself lately because I didn't want someone to have to ask me three times let alone three years. (Yes, it was worth the yes) I didn't the nerve to tell him that women who are virgins don't take off their clothes for you, you have to nudge them off and their panties won't match their bra, not ever ever ever, I promise. I wanted to tell him that for a girl who has kept it until the age of 43, who has fielded those petulant demands to her bedroom, her golden mound that you will have to swim farther, jump higher, and sing a song of true grace. He'd have to get rid of those glasses, shave his head, look mysterious and when she kisses you it better be the kiss of a lifetime. You better have lightning shooting out your ass when those hips are moving like a jackhammer. It better be better than horseback riding and eat chocolate at the same time. I have been off sugar and when I ate a piece of my birthday cake it was SPECTACULAR. As it should be.

I have an Aunt Linda. Lovely woman. She waited her whole life to find love. At the age of 48 she meets a man, a curly haired fellow and marries him. Three months later he died of a massive heart attack. I was heart broken for her. As we approached his green, almost milk green casket that amazed me a little my father leaned in as we were praying and said, "let this be a lesson to you kids, he died of stored up pussy power." Two very different perspectives to the situation.


So if this guy's lie was about VD and taxes and that his parents "need him" there why would I care? I kept thinking that Richie once thought I needed him here and now he's sure he's intrusive. I am not sitting around pining for the next time I can make baby richie pancakes sure this motherhood thing is the be all end all. I've done this for 22 years, 22 years of darning things, coaching him along, showing up for football games and protecting him from the other side of parental heartbreak, explaining carefully that "daddy didn't mean to not show up, but you can come along with Auntie and I and we'll have fun, I promise." He knew being here put me out. Perfect. It should be that way. We are supposed to move away from our parents, have our heart broken, wish "he'd" call, love without fear, stand on the edge, let someone else run the day, trust a lie, hold your hand out ever so nervously and hope the other person has a stronger foothold, sing too loud, mail a valentine.

I went to dinner with Richie and his girlfriend Chrissy the other night and in the middle of dinner I reminded them that when they first met they used to wrestle all the time and how I'd watch knowing one day this will go bad. Well they were wrestling on the lawn one night and chrissy hit him in the sack with her keys. He comes hobbling in full of drama and she kinda giggles saying she didn't think it would hurt that much. He calls her a fucking dumbass and she runs out of the house speeding out of the driveway crying huge tears. He stands out on the front lawn until she drives around again and two hours later their hair was all messed up and their clothes a little "off." Lesson learned. Don't wrestle with a bully and if you do expect to lose. Keys and sacks don't work well together. Loads of lessons learned here. When they figure out absence makes the heart grow fonder I will celebrate with cake.

I wondered what I would teach this guy, this guy on the park bench who is sure I am insane. And then it hit me. I am done teaching anyone a lesson. I was here to learn. Open your eyes Carrie, I said to myself, pay attention here someone is talking to you and this is big stuff. I was reminded about why recently even embroiled in romantic drama I put it out there a little. Why I left the window open, why I take risks. I had some wonder in my head and even now as I am typing this I am thinking about him a little, letting him dance around the edges of my mind even looking for the key to my heart. He's off super heroing I thought and he'd be a little delighted by this, maybe even laughing, flying over head thinking "Jesus she is nuts." I hope he's having such fun.

God was here sitting on my shoulder, you see he was missing me and worrying about me. He was sitting near, watching wondering why he has to scream to me to get me to listen. Smooth Sailing. I wanted the God of all that is loving and patient and teaching to stand up so I could see him and put my arms around him and put my face in his gown and stand on his sandals and say thank you, thank you, thank you for giving me strength when I don't have any. Thanks for making the moon bright so I can sleep without the light off, thanks for making Richie joyful this visit, thanks for teaching me to live with my scar, scars. I could hear God's voice in the day and this guy on this park bench could be me, untouchable, so far removed from love and life and very very safe. I bet he doesn't have a scar on his whole freaking body. I bet he has never ridden his bike down the hill where I broke 3 ribs. I bet he has never cried in an airport, I bet he has never let someone push them so high on the swings that you were sure, absolutely sure you couldn't hang on and come crashing to the ground trying to figure out the three numbers you'd have to dial to get an ambulance there.

When I leave God will talk to him in kitten whispers in the tall grass. His parents are alive and he can go sit with them today I would have to call my father down from the skies. His parents are worried about him, you know they are like I worry about Richie when he's raging or lost, when he's supposed to get the car serviced and he won't, when he studies at the very last minute. My parents aren't worried about me at all. If I am sure of anything right now, its that they have no worries in my concern. The world loves me and I love them back without reservation. I will put my arms around suzy soon and I will whisper to her that I love her. I will leave the window open, trust my gut, brush myself off and get on with it over and over and over again. I like the whirling around too much to give it up.

I told Suzy recently, I am going to find some adventure. I am such a bad influence I thought. She'd follow along because we do that for each other. Even now in secret moments I plan my escape from here so we can move to be near her, watch her fix the government while I create. I even threw suzy a net, reminded her that hunting for adventure is fun. I kept worrying she'd get hurt, that I was always her bad influence and here I was risking again and I shouldn't encourage her to. Then, this morning she texts me (I really want Denny's Pancakes) I will worry when she texts me that she's feeling a little pang of heart ache, I am always the fun influence in her life and to be reminded fills me with joy. For a moment I was back years ago in bed with the guy so forgettable and she was trudging up the stairs to my room with a box of donuts telling him "it's time to go, we are going antique shopping. Have a donut on your way out the coffee is downstairs." If he only knew that antiques creep her out because they are full of ghosts. "why is she like that?" the boys always ask. My answer: "she has a sickness in her head, thank god eh?" We'd sit in a bookstore later, sharing little bits of this and that like we were gold mining. She'd finish a whole book in an hour and I'd walk out with a Bukowski book, one of a 100. She'd say "It's almost over this thing with the guy with a pony tail." "Why?" I'd ask. "Well he has a pony tail and he drinks too much coffee." Gods she was right and yes it was over. A guy who owns a car that never runs and $5,000 in sex toys is not the guy who is going to kill spiders and open bottles. She was being kind. I appreciate that of her nobody is kinder to me. Nobody.

I was headed back home and I could see God standing in the middle of the street by the house I wonder about, the green house with the broken windows and the giant splashes of orange lilies overgrown everywhere. I remember the day they took the old man out of that house on a stretcher on his way to a nursing home. Funny, I was sure the house had been abandoned weeks ago and he lived in there dark and alone and it made me angry with myself that I didn't check. God was just watching me walk home and I turned to nod to let him know it was all ok. I would be fine, no risk, no reward. I'd pray a little later in the night or early in the morning and yes I'd remember to do something nice for someone today because I am a child of God and I do love the tender mercies when they float this way. We can all be God, we all are. I can feed or kill someone tomorrow and in their life I am God for that moment. He smiled large and went over to sit on the park bench next to the guy with the paper. Let's hope he has his listening ears turned up. Maybe he'll be there next week with different glasses, his shirt messed a little and looking in the paper for his own apartment. Maybe.

I will wrap my body
In other women's arms.
Make love in a hurry,
Feel better than I am.
Hope you find yourself
In someone else's eyes

'Cause I love anybody who's
Fool enough to believe
And you're just one of many who
Broke their heart on me
And so I say I don't love you,
Though it kills me
It's a lie that sets you free.

Love, love, love
I can't take your
Love, love, love

And so I say I don't love you

'Cause I love anybody who's
Fool enough to believe (Love,
Love, love)
And you're just one of many
Who broke their heart on me
(Love, love, love)
And so I say I don't love
You, (Love, love, love)
Though it kills me
'Cause it's a lie
- James Blunt

**************************************
If you haven't given someone your number hoping they'll call out of the blue, I suggest it. If you don't have a cat, shame on you. If I go get one of those kittens later I am naming it fluffy after the almost dead cat. If you think God isn't around all the time, know he's as close as your next thought. If you are worried about having a broken heart, then you'll never have one full of love. If you haven't heard James Blunt sing when you do your heart will be all a flutter. Text someone today and tell them you love them, that you miss them. They're waiting to hear it. Paint something in a few spare moments, put it out there in the world. "Cause I love anybody who is fool enough to believe and you're just one of many who broke their heart on me and so I don't love though it kills me. It's a lie that sets you free."

Carrie

You can always find me at summerpoet@msn.com and my work at poetsummer.etsy.com.

Road Trip!

I was in the yard this morning looking for the long green squash to make some bread. One of the joys of having Richie home is cooking for him and having him cook for me. He's quite the little chef these days, learning as he lives on his own at school. I love to cook and make cozy and since he was little he was always so grateful, marveling what women do as magic.

A bee buzzed past my ear and I almost lost my balance. Those that love me know I have almost no balance and fall all the time and I stopped for a moment to glare at the little rock I slipped on a few days ago and banged my hip so hard it's still sore even though the bruise is gone, a little reminder to 'be more careful.' I could hear my father calling me 'Crash'.

This bee buzzed down my ear, down my throat to my bruised heart and just sat there buzzing. He sneaks in this little bee when no one is looking and then flies somewhere else cause flying is what he does. He sits there and thanking god I can speak and understand buzz talk we share our lives. He tells me about adventure and living life as though it would be over tomorrow and life is like that isn't it? In a flash, in a moment we are worm food or we own the world. The middle part is what sucks, the rotting waiting for the promotion, for love, for happier times, for worry and wonder, for anything good. I'll see Paris soon only a few more weeks, next month will be the start of my busy season and then I'll feel less restless. Summer is the time of wonder and when wonder doesn't show up you start to question your whole world.

So back to this bee buzzing away his stinger taking things I love about me and chewing on it a little making honey, the honey that will make sticky candy later if we are very careful and if we are careless at the same time. This little bee likes adventure more than I do. Can you imagine? It's like finding a child who likes candy more than I do and nobody likes candy more than I do. This bee is singing his song and today he was singing Daniel...Daniel is traveling thursday on a plane. I can see the red taillights traveling to spaaaain. I can see Daniel waving goodbye, Lord it looks like Daniel, must be the clouds in my eyes. They say spain's pretty though I've never been daniel says it's the best place he's ever seen.

Meanwhile my heart is singing make the world go away, the version by Hank Cochran..Do you remember when you loved me? before the world took me astray? If you do, then forgive me and make the world, make it go away. Make the world go away get it off my shoulder, say the things you used to say and make the world go away. My father used to sing this song when my mother was angry with him, when he'd been out drinking.."i'm sorry if I hurt I'll make it up day by day just say you love me like you used to and make the world go away." I have been missing my father lately, mostly missing the magic he had when he had the world angry with him and with one look, one smile, one kiss on the cheek, the anger would melt away and all you wanted was to see him smile like that for awhile.

In all our singing we were exhausted this little bee and I and I sat on my favorite chair on the deck to look at the green oh so green from the rain the night before. The gentle rain comforted me while I drifted off last night and my last thought was writing this morning. He said write when you want, whenever you want this little bee when he was buzzing at my window last night. He wants me to step on a land mine I thought, and that was my last thought. I woke this morning pointing out the scars in the sun out the window in my sanctuary, all the scars from land mines when I was young and fearless. Now I am a day older, a year older, no longer a daughter, hardly a mother, not a wife, an where was the boyfriend today? Oh yes, golfing, meetings and obligations that had so little to do with me. "I held on to let you go and if you lost your love for me, well you never let it show." I was singing when I woke up, humming a little throwing a few words in here and there. I could hear best friend saying "I will listen for a few words that I recognize so I can figure out what the hell you are singing," shaking her head laughing. "and that he missed me sometimes when he's alone in his room, do I feel lonely too? You have no right to ask me how I feel, you have no right to speak to me so kind. We can't go on holding on to ties, so for now we'll go on living separate lives." If you haven't heard this song, throw it up on the ipod. Phil collins and the woman's voice I can't place will make your heart ache a little. "Well I held on to let you go and if you lost your love me, you never let it show. There was no way to compromise (how do you compromise the aching in a heart?) so now we live in separate lives. Ooo, it's so typical love leads to isolation. so you build that wall, yes you build that wall, and you make it stronger. You have no right to ask me how I feel. You have no right to speak to me so kind. Some day I might, I just might find myself looking in your eyes. But for now we'll go on living separate lives."

Life was waiting, toe tapping me.

I wanted to linger a little longer with the bee buzz, buzz buzzing. I needed to get the car serviced something I'm horrible with, the details that kill me. I dislike driving so much. There are days when I feel free in the car, feel free to be fast and dangerous but for the most part it's about being careful, watching, moving without fear all things I hate not dislike, hate. You see there in my garden the bee was on his way. He was coming to fetch me and he has maps and charts and we were leaving. The bee good at the details and I am good at fun. I was busy making cozy, packing a pic nic you could eat in the car. I'd made banana bread, asparagus wrapped in rare roast beef, little melon balls in the shapes of stars and flowers. I made tiny sandwiches with the most wondrous delicacies each wrapped in wax paper two at a time, one for me and one to share. Nothing ordinary as this is not an ordinary bee, not easy to impress and I ached for some smiling bee time. I packed them carefully in a cooler with honey drinks for me and my buzzing bee friend. I have packed endless pic nics like this for the Best Friend and I on hundreds of road trips and I stopped giggling for a moment as she always makes me giggle thinking of the road trip home, home to see her dad for the last time at Christmas. He was waiting there up for us late late into the night while we trudged through more snow than I can remember, eating an entire box of the little mini fannie mae chocolates. You could tell the pieces she'd eaten as there would be one bite missing and then throw back in the box.I remember being afraid to look at the weight marking on the side of the box.

After our pic nic was packed, a pic nic for lovers and bees and wandering women who mused of poetry and cool tea blended with the black tea from the African jungle I started on the fun part. I packed traveling clothes, things with pockets, sun dresses that wouldn't wrinkle some that would look sexy when they did. I'd pack a hat, a big floppy brimmed hat for sitting next to the place he'd climb. I packed a swim suit for a pool, not a lake, a pool with lights for swimming at night. And finally I'd pack the little dress I kept hidden from any eyes the one I imagined I'd wear to a wonderful dinner eating canjun rice with saffron, sitting in the corner, whispering wanting to tell the waiter to throw everything in one of those horrid styro boxes and finish it in bed.

I'd pack a backgammon board, knowing he'd win and not caring one bit. I'd pack old movies adventure movies like Out of Africa so late into the night we could pretend to be Dennys Finchutton and Isek Dennison on the farm alone at night surrounded by her books, drinking very red wine smelling of the african sun.

I'd pack two box kites for box kite fighting in an open field on the side of the road, traffic slowing to watch us. I'd pack my own mo jo necklace I'd made weeks before hoping to trade with some native New Orleanan who we be fascinated with my handiwork. I'd pack beads because I always have beads with me. I'd not forget the music, some books; one of short stories and another of poetry, an empty paged book to write notes; one of those books that looks a little mysterious and wraps with a leather cord. I'd pack watercolors and little things pieces of this and that to paint on and a book of the impressionists so we could match their paintings with the gardens of the south as we both love to plant. Of course we both love to plant. Later we'd talk of a water garden filled with monet's lilies and koi fish afterward finding one of those long lingering New Orleans light poles where he'd kiss me like I was 17 again and this was the first and last kiss I'd ever think about the pink lipstick on his neck, later.

When I heard the buzz and looked up there he was and when he saw these things piled in the drive way with no end he'd just shake his head and say "I thought you were packing light." That was for the trip to pluto, this was for a trip to New Orleans where the weeping willows would be ever so green and my heart ever so red. The blue was fading, yes we were back to red again. The cooler and quilt in the back seat with a few pillows for cloud pondering, everything else in the trunk and tucked under my arm a book of poetry I think Yeats, yeats had a heart full of summer, faeries and mystics along with some spatterings of wisdom and love.

When you are driving you have to look straight ahead and this would be the perfect opportunity for me to wear my dark dark movie star sunglasses and just peek out of the corners getting in some long lingering looks at his jaw line and his shoulders and his hands the hand he'd hold on my knee waiting for an answer, a secret. I wondered how he got the blood stains off. And with that we were off. We'd take a little detour through Indiana to Mt. Baldy. It was one of my surprises of the trip like the little thin square of dark chocolate I'd press to his tongue one night when we were kissing in a hotel room that must have seen a million lovers, a million kisses, moans that could fill a dark room.

I hadn't been to Mt. Baldy since Richie was little. Suzy, David (the oh too young lover who looked at me as though I had fallen from the sky), Richie and myself went for a winter day adventure. We drove to Indiana about an hour away and found this place. You had to drive down a canyon of sorts down a twisting road. At the end was a hill very high. I would sway a thousand feet tall, Suzy would remember it as about 300 feet. It was all sand a giant pile of sand that she talked me into climbing, cajoling me, one step up, would slide two back and was petrified the entire time begging her to end this trip and head home. At the top, an hour later an hour of me complaining and whining there was lake Michigan. It was something out of a sci fi movie, the lake water lapping on the shore carrying huge chunks of ice that would bang each other like a giant never ending car accident.

I wouldn't stand up, no way no how.I was sure a wind off the lake would take me, whooshing away and throw me down the mountain and perhaps not kill me but make me brain dead, a vegetable, like a carrot. I watched the three run over the ice chunks along the beach and point and laugh at me terrified starting to inch my way back down the sand dune.

Today I had other plans. Today I'd walk to the water, today I'd not complain, today I felt fearless and today Mr. Bee was driving all would be good with the world. We'd find a shaky bridge, we drive through the rain, we'd kiss without fear, throwing our cell phones into the lake. Today the world was full of possibilities and fear well i forgot to pack fear.

Enjoy the day! gas up the car! Don't pack light. Bring everything, write a poem, tell someone you love them because you do and leave room in your heart for more love because today may be as good as it gets. If the bee shows up, open your mouth wide. Let him guide you to thoughts of nothing ordinary. Listen to his buzz and know that when he's gone you will miss him terribly.

You can find me at Summerpoet@msn.com and my work as always at www.poetsummer.etsy.com

Carrie.

Romance

I would encourage you if you haven't written a poem to put paper to pen. I actually prefer the computer because I can type fast and my fingers tend to keep up with my head. However, this poses another problem as there is never a filter. My filter, my dam, my governing body is weak. Oui Monsieur my guard between my brain and my mouth is weaker than Paris Hilton's hymen. I am not a nervous person mind you but when I am around a man that makes me nervous and my knees feel weak and I start to glance around for an easy exit. I am speaking to you women here; you know the men I speak of, the men of confidence and grace who make you feel at ease, but not really. They walk with a little swagger. Carly Simon wrote songs about men like this. They do interesting mysterious things like build bridges and then they do the mundane and borderline silly, like golf.

I talk a million miles a minute unless of course I am tired or trying to explain something, slowly. So this anxious girl when around someone that makes her nervous starts to get fidgety and always yes always wondering why did I put myself in this position? Why didn't I just stick with easy, easy is everywhere. This is why, when one of those confident, interesting men takes you for a walk with them, when they accept the invite for adventure or initiate it it will shine a light in places you've never been. They will teach you things you can't learn in books like how to negoiate a deal so the other side thinks they've won but all the time, all the while you know you did. HE can be the cool calm waters that giggles when you are spinning and then makes the world quiet. Tricky can do that. I'll be in tears about the kid, about work, about being overwhelmed and he just says "what's wrong baby?" the world is good again. It's all manageable.

I remember being in nyc on a visit unable to figure out any truth that is in my heart or the world and one of those confident men put it all in perspective for me "all the planning you do is all about enjoying right now." I think I am growing up though as recently I was anxious about my son who is in college coming home for an unspecified time period. I called Best Friend and she texted then called him and called me to let me know "you heard it wrong he'll just be around a few days." Either he changed his plans when she called or I did hear it wrong. Either works for me just fine. I let her fix it. It's so hard to let anyone fix anything isn't it? Will they make it worse? Will they wonder why it's so easy for them and yet so difficult for me? When we are supposed to crawl we can't wait to run. When we are running, the safety seems to crawl. Such is life.

So, I wrote this poem and wanted to share it with the world..

Yes Sir
A woman giving me a peculiar look
approached me in the park today
she asked me why I was collecting bits of dirt
dropping them in my coat pocket

"I am stealing a heart." I explained to her
"In the dirt?"
How do I tell her of my plan?
I find only the darkest richest pieces of soil
break them up in my hand and line my pocket

In a few days I'll see him again
and after we make love
we've made love three times now
Well perhaps twice
the first time tender and slow and sweet
and the second rough and hard
taking me over and over
and the third distant and achingly strange

Never once an utterance of an I love you
never once a chink
just a smile and a scrambled egg
a grunt and a jerk and a whisper of a groan
but no poetry
no lingering
no song
a call a few days later and an invite to dinner

Tonight I will steal his heart I tell her
I will wear the right thing
I will hold my head at the perfect tilt
when he brushes the back of his hand against my chin
I will remember those tiny touches
be quiet and careful
And after the dancing
after the shyly undressing
when he is finally laying still in the dark
and I am playing with his hair
watching his chest rise and fall
I will whisper a spell and with one deep breath
his heart will fly from his mouth and I will
be waiting, watch the red thing still beating
fly through the air and have it in my hand

He won't miss this neglected organ
it will make for an improved golf swing
he'll celebrate it's departure because
there are many women and they are all similar
similar in want and similar in pain
their shame on one sleeve, their heart on the other
she makes a great lasagna and
the other keeps a tidy house
One sky dives another paints lighthouses by the sea
her hair flying and smelling of salt

When he isn't looking I will nestle that heart
in my coat pocket sitting in the rich soil
from the park the park where children play
their musings heard long after they've gone home for supper
with dirty little hands

I will water the living thing
feed it chips of chocolate using the foil wrappers
to reflect the sun, keep it warm
and when I am waiting for the bus I will whisper this stow away heart
some poetry
sing it old elton john songs
"You can tell everybody this is your song"
And the very moment he is thanking the gods
for curing him of his ridiculous obsession with love
when he's hit a hole in one
when he's made the brunette with the cute over bite scream
and bite her lip
I'll call and arrange for dinner
I'll cook a ham because most people don't know there are magic spices in ham

And when he's sleeping I will slip it back now bigger
pumping chocolate
and poetry
and afternoons in the herb garden
the arteries full of little dybek stories
and shakespeare sonnets
and the smell of lilacs
Sandburg's Rootabaga story about the
white horse girl and the blue wind boy

For him
with a missing heart
Life will move right along at the pace life moves
Crumpled calendar pages
filled with little notes
the dry cleaning receipts piled on the counter
its almost time for the sports illustrated bikini girl issue
the playoffs are next week
they've hired a new blond receptionist who smiles quickly
when he walks by

and then in the middle of a meeting
he will pause and feel a pain
a little something from his chest
climb up through his throat
past those lips the soft lips
women love against their ear
a green vine out through his teeth
and a giant lilly, white with a yellow eye will appear
the meeting will stop
some will clap inside
the little lawyer he brushes off with a glance
will giggle and for a few days
the world will admire the heart flower
he wears on his sleeve that opens bright when he passes the park
the whole world will see what I saw one afternoon
when his eye caught mine
and whispered, Yes Sir.

*********************************
If you haven't been nervous lately, I'd advise it. Define the space in your head where nervous lives and take a visit. Pack lightly you won't stay long. I didn't. I told best friend once that she shouldn't run for the bus, "another will be along in no less than an hour." Chasing parked cars breaks your nose and I like my nose just fine. Nervous will inspire you to write poetry. It will keep you in bed a little longer in the morning trying to separate out the bird's songs. Nervous will make you look up a new recipe and will give you inspiration to paint something. There are no monsters under the bed just those that live in the dark recesses of our heart. Everything's been done I tell myself, there are no surprises. The sun will rise tomorrow and because of best friend and the way she loves me, my child won't be home for four weeks. Life is good.

If you like to find me you can at Summerpoet@msn.com. You can find my work, as always at the fabulous etsy; www.poetsummer.etsy.com.

It's raining.

Carrie.

Love Letters

Tucked in my room is a box of old postcards from the early 1900s, that time before people even had addresses. It was the instant message of the time, not a real letter, no just a few words that would take a few weeks to arrive. This is why I think love is king. In all my travels, in all my time, translated, real post cards, in it all, never once have I found a postcard that was ill intentioned. It's the scribblings of love, one to another sent out to the air in the hopes it would reach it's destination. I have that kind of hope and I have that kind of love. I was born with it I think from another lifetime in the cosmic swirl of the world.

Best Friend and I used to pour over valentines, sending some to complete strangers so they would know someone thought of them. We'd be covered in glitter, the floor littered with pieces of paper with hearts cut out of the center in pink and red and white, white the sign of real love. We'd shop for weeks for the little glitter and in a box upstairs I have all she's given me and a few little cards from a secret lover who would just sign his cards always sent with the perfect flowers, "for a speedy recovery." It was our shorthand for "I wish you were here with me or me there with you, yes soon." My brother gives good card. He writes the most heartfelt things in cards and when writing him a card once I was thinking of my sweet mother teaching us about kindness and grace while in the midst of some argument over Scooby Do or Land of the Lost reminded in all her wisdom "one day all you will have is each other so be kind." Oh gods, she was right. How right she was. She would delight in the fact that we laugh so hard when we see eachother and that we both love the plants.

Love you see is all around us, even in the most unlikely of places. It lives in the cracks in the sidewalk and with enough warm sun and water it's real. I love that when someone contacts me about my art, it feels like a love letter. Good and bad. I recently received a letter from a woman who purchased some jewelry from me. The thing you see about chance and love is that you never know when it will hit. Sometimes its just a fly buzzing around your head and other times it sits on your shoulder like Sheba sitting on the back of my hair while I work. This woman L, I will call her for here lives in south. She's elegant and funny, and so charming. We write back and forth about our lives. You see she has a son she'd like to strangle on days and my son as much as I love him, there are days when I am ready to pack a rocket ship and ship him out of here to another orbit. Thankfully his visits home are less frequent, shorter stays and full of more joy. L and I exchange the stories of being a mom. We both love the animals, have birthdays in the summer and love dangling charms of things. Well she writes me a letter inviting me to her home for her birthday.

Carrie....In many ways you are so like me....and while we are on the subject it is so much easier to give than receive......you have done so many neat things for me all ready. I don't need a spoecial project....
I have started wrapping stuff for the birthday (sure you don't want to come?). The girls are very nice and everyone fits in immediately.....everyone becomes "family" right away. Anyway, when I was wrapping the rings it gave me the best feeling. That was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done.....
Anyway...I have 12 of everything...and 11 invitees....if you want to come I would only need to get your shirt done....and your present...and I would promise to do a wildly outrageous activity....and we eat lots of junk. (and Diane , the widow, can tell you all about computer dating) and you could see Dana's dog (Diva), 3.4 pounds, and she never goes out without taking Diva and Diva's feet have never touched the ground....and Sharon, my friend since kindergarten who is bossy (like me), and doesn't realize I want to be the only boss that day, and Mary who is your age, and adorable...married to a jerk and lives in Orlando. Sherry flies in from Detroit....Edith, my red haired friend,who lives in Delray....they are retired.
Raynne is the oldest (75) and very pretty...good heart, she loves me......but, loves to talk about her dead husband although she has been happily married to Bart for 25 years.
Marcy...she is a 2 year friend although recycled from years ago.
Rhonda is totally unpretentious and easy....another frustrated director. I am her best friend, oldest friend, worst friend...try only friend. She likes men better.
Marty...a CPA..pretty and thin....
Patty a died in the wool Republican...married to a tax attorney.....bridge player....a little out of the normal circle but she and her husband like to go on gambling trips with us.
I am afraid to read this over, or they would all sound weird as shit.
Anyway...all you would need is rolled up jeans, Keds tennis shoes (the original canvas) and and a pair of pajamas...I would do the rest.....
and you could share a suite with Sherry and I....and spend a couple of nights at my house, with the cats and dogs...
Think about it before you say no.........it could be a China test :)
L

*******************************************
A love letter from a stranger, well not really a stranger, a friend now of sorts. I read that and think, she shares her life and I am so blessed, my cup runs over. I think of all the people in the world so isolated and so alone and even when I am blue I manage to find some place where I feel loved either in the arms of friends or a family that I cherish or my work. Love lingers here in the corners where the cats sleep and in the photos magnetized to the fridge to the notes reminding me to call someone about this or take care of that detail. Then a few days later Craig writes. Craig and I are old friends I think I can call him that, honored to even. I have to nudge him from time to time to tell me something I need to hear from him. So I write him a long rambling Carrie letter, kinda like this and he writes me back the most personal lovely letter and in each line something about how he is and what he is about the love of the land, the nature of trees and advice, something to ponder. And while waxing poetic and pondering on love I've been writing writing writing. I leave myself little notes about poems I'd like to write.

I've always fancied Love a decision
not something that happens to you
like being caught in the rain in your only real wool suit
I found comfort in love being a choice;
some sweet man ties your shoe for you
at the bus stop
to KEEP you from falling and
in his eyes you see a light and you fall
and you fall
and you fall
fall like rain
fall like autumn
because of his tenderness and your choice

No one would choose a scoundrel
unless of course you had a thing for scoundrels
if cross and underhanded were your trigger
if you would toss aside batman for the joker
so you could get the laughs and wear his lipstick


Besides love being a choice I have always believed
that people know the difference between right and wrong
it's inherent in us to know
we are born knowing
it is the hand of God,
the last touch before we decend to earth
and unless
we are very sick or very lost or even full of melancholy
we'd pick right
we'd walk the path of right
like el camino
until our feet were blistered
we'd choose right like we'd choose love

And what if on a rainy day like today, when the sky
is a bruise, the color to match my heart
what if today I played the lottery
planted a seed in the garden that had no package
no little flower to tell you what was waiting
what if on a day full of chance I simply decided
to stop loving you
nobody would notice really
i'm not even sure you would
not for days and then what
gas up the steed?
dust off the shield from the garage?
behind the weed cutter that doesnt work
hasn't worked


I thought it might work today and plugged it in
only to have it cut my leg
and while the blood trickled over
my dollar store flip flops with the little
blue hearts on them
I thought of writing in the muck that
is my heart's desire
This blood now on my toes was beating
through my bruised heart just a few seconds ago
and now it will soon wash away in the rain
and every muscle in my body is keeping me
from bending down and writing
on the cement: You'll miss me
sway with me back and forth until
he makes promises he won't keep
all to keep from getting a finger dirty.

********************************

I haven't given it a name yet. A love letter to the world, whoever is reading, listening, out to the void wondering what will come back, if anything. If you have a thought you can email me at Summerpoet@msn.com. You can always find my work at www.poetsummer.etsy.com.

A Little on Alice and Adventure:

I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!

I feel like Alice sometimes. It's a balance really, wanting all the time for some adventure to plop itself in front of me and the other time wanting to have a very level head to promote my business and work out the details that are my life. I think I find inspiration when BestFriend is here, she was here for a week and I am full of inspiration. This trip was even more special because my sweet niece Katie came to visit with her husband Ben. What to tell you about Katie? She's magic. She has a way of making things work, supporting her husband while he's finishing med school, taking care of people who are emotionally and developmentally challenged, and making people just feel comfortable around her. We all laugh that Katie will answer a text message weeks after you've sent her one and we all just smile knowing she's out there working working working and keeping it together and making it look stylish to do so. I keep thinking young Richard will pick up on the idea that she and her husband are working toward a goal so they don't have to spend 8 hours a day gazing at eachother finding a reason to pick an argument out of boredom, if nothing else. Now that he's a 3 hour drive away again it's much easier to deal with his "male growing pains." Children are supposed to move away, it's the natural course to life and I am enjoying his random phone calls rather than his daily presence in my house. I take some joy in that he's off getting antoher degree and when he starts his life he will understand that hard work is really the only key to any success.

What did we do for a week? Hahahaha time spent with Goofygirl flies, it always has. I remember going to the lake house on a friday and before the blink of an eye it was time to drive home on a Sunday and we still had a list of things we hadn't done yet. It doesn't matter if others are around or it's just the two of us, time grows wings. She makes me laugh, after 20 years she still makes me laugh and she's my best audience for material. She's my cheerleader and she always gives me a different turn on life, a new window to breathe from. We visited with family, played some silly game where you had to pass an electronic machine that gave you clues to give a different team. Goofygirl is always about the game. I love that about her. We watched a few movies, she helped me get some work done, we shopped, shopped and shopped. I have a closet of new clothes. We wandered a bookstore and looked for poetry, a few bookstores, and looked for cookbooks and I found a stack of old Gourmet magazines for $4. I am going to find the best recipe in those magazines and perhaps post one here. We met up with an old friend we both worked with and spent the day wandering, lunching, trying on clothes, laughing. It felt like vacation in the middle of the winter. We've had one of those winters where it never stops snowing and the cold cuts you like a knife so a little vacation in the middle of that was a welcome treat. I miss her this week but I am sure I'll see her soon, such is life.

It's baby time here. My sweet nephew Matt and his wife had a baby boy, Andrew David and a few days later my dear Cousin Denise had a new baby boy, Luke Reilly. I am anxious to see them both and feel blessed that there are more little voices in the world to add to my world and very glad I am not yet a grandmother. Very glad.

More good news? Moonstruckmagic is open again. Ok, check out her stuff at www.moonstruckmagic.etsy.com. Her new york spa soap is to die for and those little tubes of foot relaxer cream oh they are wonderful. I wrote to her the moment I saw her open again and put in an order for that lovely soap that smells like mango and vanilla and makes tons of suds and a little oat on the top to exfoliate. My bar kept getting smaller and smaller and although I've made other soap purchases as I am an addicted homemade soap girl, nothing compares to the soap in that shop.

Christmas was insane here, I felt bad that I didn't post but if you sell things at Christmas time you know you are in for more work than you can handle. Sleep was a luxury through November and December but I did manage to spend some holiday joy with my family and even baked. (It really helps to hire some help). I went easy on myself as far as obligations other than work because I didn't want to feel overwhelmed or frustrated that I just can't do everything.
I am dedicating the new year to taking better care of myself, working out more, taking the time three times a day to get on the bike or the treadmill and I am giong to swim more this year as we have a new health club that's only blocks from the house. I am looking forward to swimming when it's cold. I am hiring someone full time to help out with issues outside of creating and this year I am going to get some help with the garden. Life is good and it feels like taking care of me will give me even more inspiration on the business front.

It was the Dutchess who said, "Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves." I am off to take care of me. I hope you will do the same. Thanks so much for spending this time with me. I promise to keep up here more than I have been as things are a little quiter. This is the season of romance so I hope you are doing something special for someone you love. If you'd like to see more of my work you can find it at www.poetsummer.etsy.com. You can always contact me at Summerpoet@msn.com. Thanks, Carrie.

Nobody Can Do What You Love

Doing what we love

I am embarking on a new venture. I bring you this information with such excitement. It's still all a bit of a secret but I have been working in every spare minute, creating and I was reminded again that work is joy when you are doing what you love. I celebrated my 500th sale this week on Etsy. I almost can't believe what an incredible accomplishment that is. You see I've only been selling on Etsy for 6 months. I dabbled a little before and concentrate more effort at the first of the year. I can't tell you how much I love Etsy and the opportunity there for self expression. And just when I thought moving to a new place would leave some of the Ebay nonsense behind don't you know I have a few straggling mentals following me around but let's just say they aren't as successful as they had hoped. I even have one copying every little tiny idea I create and that is what sparked my new venture. You see they can't copy what they can't do so it was time to get to the work table and come up with a wow factor that will leave them stunned and a tad confused.

I like to think that being in my 40's I am a little wiser than when my son was young and I was just a new wife and a mother. I become more calm in the face of diversity, more understanding when struggling with someone else's foibles. That is the case until you realize a 70 year old woman is trying so hard to be you. The things you learn when you run your own business, it's been the most interesting educational experience I've ever had. What do you do when faced with a 70 year old woman who writes you little notes of encouragement only to find out that every time you put out a new product, she's copying it almost word for word? What do you even say to her when she's constantly contacting you only to write nasty notes to others about your efforts and when they are forwarded to you, you are left a little stunned. I think that this is one of the tests of success. There is a cost to doing what you love and being successful while doing it. You are tested to see how you will react when faced with a Jeannie or a Crazy Rosemary (both of which have coincidentially disappeared) or even one of their new little insane buddies. They just poof because as hard as they try they can't ever do what I do and they won't be able to do what you do. The hangers on of the world will be left in the dust when you are doing what you love. They won't ever have the soul or the intellect it takes to pull it off.

So, my advice if you feel a little overwhelmed by those that see you do what you love and find a way just to be an irritant? Do what you do every day. Put your head down and put in the work until it's such joy that attempting to steal your thunder will be impossible. I couldn't make baby items because I haven't had a baby in a long time so I wouldn't understand what it takes to make that work. I couldn't carve a wood statue to save my life. The idea of holding that sharp knife and slowly grinding into wood is something that I wouldn't have the patience or understanding to do. As we create art we create our own experience. Nobody can do what you can do because they don't bring your experience to the table or your talent. Soon you will just starve them out and they will go away. And don't believe for a moment the people who try to steal who you are and what you do don't know what they are doing. EVERYONE knows the difference between right and wrong. This I know. And you get to pick I guess what road you will take, will you be the wrong and complain that it's just circumstance? Or will you take the rougher road to find your own voice? That's the question isn't it? Will you use your own talent and your own voice or will you lay your head on a pillow at night and KNOW that you spent the entire day attempting to sing someone else's song? The great are always remembered and the not so great fall to the wayside as truth always wills itself out. No matter how many rocks you throw in the bag, now matter how many times you push truth under the water it surfaces and when it does it's a constant reminder.

When I preview my new line (very soon I hope) I will post some photos here and you will always find me on Poetsummer.etsy.com. For those that have been so kind to include me on their treasury there know that in the future anyone who mentions my art in their treasury, I will send you a free pair of photo charm earrings just convo me with your address and some theme you are looking for.

For those sellers on Etsy who are excited about an art exchange that isn't always about money, there's the PIF tag, or pay it forward. You list an item in your shop for $.20 and the person who buys it, pays the listing fee of that $.20 and the shipping costs and by accepting that offer they agree to list something in their store for $.20. I am going to give this a try this weekend with some new earring designs and we'll see how it goes. I am excited about it. There is also a new feature on Etsy where you can refer a friend to the Etsy site and receive a credit bank for people who sign up and join. I can't stress enough how important it is to make Etsy work, it's a wonderful place for an exchange of artistic spirit without a bunch of the Ebay nonsense. I am working on a live feed to my blog of a class I am teaching here in the upcoming week. I'll see if I can pull off the technology.

My birthday is right around the corner and as I mark time as we all mark time I am praying I can learn to look past the momentary situation and look into the future and enjoy success as it arrives, one little flicker at a time.

Enjoy the day, do something you love and share it with the world. We are anxiously waiting.
With much Love,
Carrie.