Texting

There are some words when you text (sans QWERTY pad) with the same keypad combination. It's ironic how some of them work out:

Kid = Lie
Love= Jove
Brian= Asian (like Brian Choi)

Evening at Starbucks (based on a true story)

Evening at Starbucks

He sits behind the bubble telescope of porous foam floating
on her triple shot cappuccino, strumming another café evening.
She twists her auburn almond hair around her dough-white fingers,
pouting her young, girlish lips, dazzled glam in misfit racy red.
How’s everyone doing tonight, his voice soft like the light drizzle
outside, but rhythmic smooth as droplets fall to kiss the ground.
Her red-ring smile is explosive, alone against the monochromatic
backdrop of a bandwagon crowd, bustling their own agendas.
This song is for someone special. And he serenades the tousle headed
girl, who turns to serenade a suave Slavic chiseled man with
chestnut wisps like waves upon his head, a novelist, a new lover.
With fingertips used to tickle a story to book, he strokes a girl to
woman. Guitar boy sits in a bubble telescope, another note in
the noise, another rhythm in the room, strumming another café evening.

Lover's Quarrel

She tilts the red wine until it pools like the red sea,

a parting in two, onto a cool clean lacquered table.

Bourdeaux 1976, not good enough? Let it brim, let it drip.

Meaty lumps of avocado remain strung on his triton fork,

like a cracked violin, refusing to speak notes of raw reprimand.

She draws her red lips, tighter than the closed casket of

the dead, redder than venom bursting from pomegranate.

He burns like lit embers hiding beneath crumbling coal,

with eyes that house her heart under his bedlam igloo.

He continues to spear his avocado prey, and she prays

this red wine doesn’t stain. Let it brim and drip, but

don’t let it stay. Without an igloo, she has no home

but she tries to bake her frozen tundra, hammer ice

into amorphous corpses, singe his pretty boy lashes

with petty girl nonsense, drizzle fury and red wine

because she knows any fight is better than silence.

How to Lose Friends

I have this bad habit of signing off on someone if I get angry and don't want to deal with a problem. I did that to Tom last night, and we got in a big fight. It's an age long habit I've kept, and it's hard to fix. But I've realized it translated into everyday life. The reason why Ally and I are no longer friends isn't because there was a big fight that couldn't be solved, but it was because I walked away. I walked away because I knew I could. When I walk away, I'm half-heartedly hoping that someone will grab my hand and beg me to stay. But that's too much to ask, too much of my own fairy tale mind. I need to stop walking away, just stay, and say

sorry.

$Crazy

My wallet got stolen on the bus home from nyc today. It held $18, a debit card with $75, license, $8 gift card to Victoria's Secret, $6.95 dollar gift card to Macy's, metro card, pictures of my sweet 16... so nothing too big. But, I know it was stolen. The economy is bad. Moral strength is deteriorating. What can I expect? Do I have too little faith in human nature? Am I expecting too much? Too little? Was that really worth stealing? Was that really worth ruining someone's day?

I really wished that I was some kind of FBI agent who could pat people down. I stopped the entire bus, and yet no one confessed. And for a while after I thought, wow, I really can not trust people. People are bad by nature. But that's for people (like me) who have not been shown a bit of compassion. So instead of being bitter, I should start my own positive butterfly effect.