Ghosties

On TV, Janet Leigh
prepares for her shower
as I prepare Jack
for his personality.
I poise with knife—
I’m ready for my psychotic
break Mr. Hitchcock.
Music cues, you call.
It seems Norman and I
aren’t the only ones
up for carving.
“You coming?” you say
as though embossed
stationary had been involved.
A couple of eons and two seconds ago,
my mother asks what I’d like.
“Can I have star eyes?” I challenge.
“Do you want both eyes to be stars?”
my mother replies uneasily spooked.
You’re singing over the phone.
“Seems someone got an early start.”
Two minutes later,
Amy lobotomizes
as I size up the patient.
“He seems a smug gourd.”
Haneen, with Palestinian patience,
prepares pumpkin seeds.
Mom goes for sharpie
while I choose to freehand.
Norman just overreacts.
“You can meet us there.”
“I don’t have a costume.”
Lies and damnation.
My knife slips
and Jack looses a tooth.
“What about the nose?”
“A triangle.”
Back to basics,
I blew my shapely skills on the stars.
“Regular or upside down triangle?”
My mom’s the coolest.
Poor Norman.
“If I’m not there yet,
just introduce yourself.”
I don’t need a haunted house
with the apprehension of
that first un-rung doorbell before me.
“Whatever you want,”
Amy says and pops a beer.
Her goopy work is done.
“Fine. Square. Nose.”
Were you ever misunderstood, Mr. Hitchcock?
“I’ll just say I’m Margaret’s friend.”
No rejoinder.
The seeds are all they should be:
warm, crunchy, and way too salty.
Pass the Almond Joy.
“Two teeth on top and one tooth on bottom.”
I’m sick on dulce de leche
and X-Files marathon.
You call again.
“I’m running late.”
Vera Miles lets her rip.
Star-eyed and smiling,
clean-cut and satisfied,
snaggle-toothed and trepidant.
Wouldn’t hurt a fly.
“Trick or treat.”

Variation on a Theme

Bruised, black-eyed,
and occasionally splatted
post-cliff.
Perhaps a dog would help
or some other form of crutch.
It might be alright with a cool pair of shades
and certainly the senses seem fine tuned,
but avoid the driver’s seat
same also with shotgun.
Is it a birth defect
or the result of unnatural uses?
(I heard bootleg gin.)
Whatever the case,
love is blind.

Type A Love

I haven’t forgotten about you,
I’ve just pushed you aside
onto list three, item four
before flossing
but after buy bread.
So you see, you’re not neglected
just prioritized
in a life carefully boxed
on well-dusted shelves.
So, clearly, there’s no need
for your emotions to get messy.

Riffering

Word association exercise/game: Write in response to five words.

Original: Vineyard, Root, Rescue, Perseverance, Divided

Vineyard: The great all-American consumerism handbook of magical adjectives assures me that the most convenient affordable marketplace for me to purchase fine brushed Egyptian cotton 300 thread count sheets in the shade of parchment is, in fact, the Vineyard and not the Quarry nor the Forum.

Root: The regular practice of root lock ensures that I am right, tight, and ready to go. Cha cha cha. My chakras open all the way up motherfucker.

Rescue: Puppies, shelters, firefighters, men in uniform, calendars, gay bars, disco, chick flick movies with inevitable dance scenes…

Perseverance: Did you know that people that climb Mount Everest don’t just climb up? They climb up and down between the base camps for like a month or something to acclimate to breathing on the oxygen tanks. Nut bunnies.

Divided: A heart divided against itself cannot possibly beat with any sense of rhythm. (I wrote that a long time ago but still haven’t found a home for it.)

Murat11’s: Jam, Uptight, Flimps, Cloister, Jicama

Jam: I like strawberry jam and raspberry preserves but I’ve never particularly cared for jelly. (It must be preserves because jelly don’t jam like that?)

Uptight: What are the cool cats in Denver after the second pitcher of martinis?

Flimps: I spend a lot of time telling development experts that words they have used in their writing should not be used because they are not actually words. They spend a lot of time responding that it’s okay, they’re common industry terms. I also sigh quite a lot.

Cloister: At 22 Haley Mills starred as a strong minded teenager who gets into all sorts of high jinks with her best friend at the Catholic girls’ school St. Francis Academy in the film the “Trouble With Angels.” In the light-hearted farce Haley transforms from a petulant selfish teen to wistful novitiate right before the audience’s eyes all amongst swimming, smoking, and Plaster of Paris shenanigans. Her transformation is so sudden that her costar June Harding accuses the Mother Superior—why yes, it’s Ms. Rosalind Russell—of tricking Haley Mills into joining the order. In her final emotional outburst you can almost hear her say, “But it’s such a contrived plot twist!” Whenever this gem of cinema appears on Turner Classic I must admit I find myself compelled to watch particular scenes. I blame Ms. Rosalind Russell as the same thing happens to me when they show “Auntie Mame.”

Jicama: I leaned across the yellow counter and watched my mom slice and eat jicama as she put away the groceries. She unpacked until she found the jicama and then sliced it straightaway so she could continue to munch on the unadorned raw pieces as she continued to put things away. I watched her with a certain amount of envy that she could enjoy the itchy bland vegetation as though it were something wholesome and wonderful like a cucumber.