Dusty Lavender

I’d say it was purple, but violet garners greater reverence and deeper imagery. So violet is the color she wore, or rather it wore her. It lived on her, swam in the carefree rivers of her silken skin and slumbered on the covers of her eyes. Her body gave violet body, her character gave violet character, her breath made it breathe, her speech made it speak and it spoke directly to me in words that I could only understand on the very inside of myself. She called it dusty lavender tonight, so that now dusty lavender is folded up on a make believe handkerchief and in my front shirt pocket close to my beating heart.

Dirty Elegance

The dirt on an elegant woman’s arms. Look at it. Do you know what that looks like? It looks like a real flea circus with real fleas in it. Not one with motors operating the trapeze. REAL fleas, friends - doing real tricks. It’s also like the trick where your uncle grabs your nose. Placing his thumb between his index and middle fingers showing you the underside of his thumb and claiming that he has your thumb in his hand. Except this time he has it. This time he actually pulled your nose from your face and is holding it in his hands. No more charade, just the real deal that you always ached to believe in. Come here you lovely queen, without washing up. Let me touch the dark spots, let me feel the sand in your hair. Walk on these flower petals that are disingenuously thrown on the ground before you on your way to the cigarette shop. It only makes your aura more holy, more saturated. I liked the way your hands felt last night. In the same manner that you yourself like them. The scars on your cheek; all for glory. The scars on your cheek; all for glory.

This Must Be What Being an Adult is Like…

Something about the idea of cooking. I took it for granted, I guess we all did. Why would she choose to make this dish one night and something different, tacos perhaps, another night? I imagine her startled with the thought of some food she hadn’t made for some time during her midday routine. That, or thinking of a dish that one of us liked, probably Dad, and preparing for it a day ahead of time. I wonder if she had a small schedule in her head, mapping out the elements and procedures until the night of the meal. This could be the way she stayed so creative. Maybe cooking dinner was her exciting outing for the day. Maybe making a meal was a trip to another country; a vacation. Or maybe it was just cooking dinner.

Nectarine

While she finished filling the pillbox, snapping shut the little doors from Sunday to Saturday, the fruit, in a bowl on the counter, caught her attention. Birg was transfixed by the single nectarine nestled in the bottom of the bowl, domineered by the apple resting on top. The nectarine, she considered the nectarine was named by a man who was in love with it.. As this thought scrolled through her head she knew that it must be true, even though it was a vague and wishing thought. She associated the word nectar with ‘nectar of the gods’ and so hailed it as the utmost in juices. In her head she illustrated an old man at a small wooden table methodically eating the new fruit that he had raised and announcing to himself “I’ll call it the nectarine, for it’s flesh is fit for the gods.”

The Wonder of Engines

I’ve always loved internal combustion engines. I cannot explain exactly why, though the thought of thousands of little machines working together to make one incredible powerhouse baffles me. Think about it, your car works because hundreds of explosions are occurring each second under the hood.


My first experience with an automobile engine was with the Volkswagen air-cooled 1200cc, found in the VW beetle that my Dad bought for me in high school. You would be hard pressed to find an engine more versatile, rugged, abundant, and charming. It’s a rear-engine, flat-four design; meaning a 4 cylinder motor that is horizontally opposed in the rear of the vehicle. The engine in my beetle was rated at only 40hp and had so many unique and innovative parts like; aluminum heads, aluminum/magnesium block, low compression ratios, slip-in cast cylinders, and heat-exchangers in the exhaust for cab heat. Anyway, I just wanted to talk about it since it started my love affair with engines.

What I didn't say

I really like you


I know that can't mean much


Because you have someone


But, I wanted you to know


Since I might not see you again


Sorry I didn't say it out loud

For the Hopeless Romantics...

“The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.”

-Rumi