Time with Me

You say you wanted
To 'spend time with me,'
But you went downstairs
And watched TV.

Yellow Roses

Her lover brought to her yellow roses
Picked from a garden of his own love.

I don't know how I remember those lines from a poem I wrote for 12th grade English. We had to write a poem based on Kate Chopin's "The Awakening." I focused on roses and the poem was a tragic and dark soap opera and I remember my teacher really liked it. I was always fascinated by the story and Edna's final swim into the water and how dark it was. It seems like it's a recurring theme in some of my favorite works. In "The Piano," Holly Hunter gets dragged into the water and almost dies before changing her mind. In "Grey's Anatomy," Ellen Pompeo gets dragged into the water and dies before changing her mind. Subjugation, codependency, water, death, rebirth. I think I always want life to be that dramatic. I always want to be making symbolic choices that reveal something amazing underneath. I don't know if it's a good way to live: looking at everything as a symbol of something deeper. I often wonder what life would be like not seeing the world like that, viewing everything with a steady dose of indifference.

Ketchup, Ketchup

Ketchup, ketchup
Is in the air.
Ketchup, ketchup
Is everywhere:
In the water
Red and clear.
Catch up, ketchup,
You're almost there.

Suburban Dreams

A Pasadena housewife
With a crack pipe in the kitchen.
The milk and eggs and iced-tea
Hide a different recipe.

She drops the kids at school
And pours herself some coffee.
She turns off the lights
And finally starts to see.

A couple hours later
She wakes and wipes her eyes.
She lets the dog outside
And awakens from the ride.

She picks the kids back up
And her husband's on the phone.
She closes her eyes and dreams
For the next moment she's alone.