Knowing (p)

Knowing that I need you more than you need me,
if I were to close the book,
would you notice it?
Knowing that I want you more than you want me,
if I were to walk away,
would you notice it?

I think [maybe] after a few days
you'd scratch your head
and wonder where the last year [and a half]
had gotten.

The Choice (p)

I had a choice to make.
I chose you
over money,
over status,
over a comfortable life
where I'd be taken care of.
I chose you
because you
excite my mind;
you make me think
you take me to places that even I couldn't imagine.
I chose you
because;



because I chose you.

Machu Picchu (d)

I'm a servant to a priestess, carrying water for her bath and arranging her hair. It seems to be late spring and we are readying for the festival of the sun.
I cook for her, as I am the only servant trusted to create the dishes she must eat before the ceremony.

A dish consisting of monkey, [!] some grain that turns a bright orange when ground and mixed with the blood of the monkey, a red vegetable, kind of like tomatoes and small green peppers that are quite hot. I felt sorry for the monkey, but I was determined that the priestess should have the best possible feast.

Another dish of a fruit and some leaves from a tree. The fruit is mixed with a syrup, some more of the ground grain and wrapped in the leaves, then placed between flat rocks in the fire.

The water that she drinks has to be filtered through layers of cloth woven from her hair.

A Cat's Life (dp)

You pounce
through tall grass
in the field,
chasing butterflies
and grasshoppers
and motes.
You fish in the pond
at the bottom of the hill
and bring me a treasure
to brighten my day.
Sitting on my lap
you fade to gray
and then you're gone
away, away.

I meant what I said (p)

Yes I know, I'm easy,
but I won't do that.
I thought you understood,
I thought you knew.
I thought you had some
vague idea
of how I feel about you.
I felt you knew
that I was growing too,
and that I wasn't going to be the giver
all the time
anymore.
I said what I meant
and
I meant what I said;
giving for giving
else I'll be dead


to you.

This one woke me up. (d)

It was a sound from my computer. Odd because the sound no longer exists [on my computer, at least]. The sound was my voice, saying your name, with an exclamation.

In the dream, I heard the sound, looked up from my book and saw your old screen name on my buddy list. Not just saw it, but in detail.

The font was red, outlined in black, lower case, all one word. It was the old LED font. It literally pulsated for a second, then faded away.

And then it was gone.

I told myself: "I don't have that name on my buddy list, wth is going on here?".

and I woke up.

I told myself (d)

before I went to sleep, that I would know that I was 'in' a dream.

So I dreamed.

I dreamed about dreaming and in the dream I knew I was in a dream.

The thing is, other than that, I don't remember what the dream was about, much.

City, desert, mountains, water. People, lack of people, animals. Trees, water, rocks.

Just like the stereo-type 'life flashing before one's eyes' bit, but it wasn't my life.

A. I'm not male. (I was in the dream)
B. I've never been to most of the places I saw.

Okay, okay, maybe I do remember more than I thought at first.

Interesting. I wonder whose life that was?

a dark and stormy (d)

It's a dark and stormy night.
I'm in a strange house, there are no lights on and I can't find a light switch. I find a candle, but have no matches! Fumbling around I find a lighter, light the candle and move to the next room.
There is an old wind-up phonograph and a stack of 78 records beside it. Looking on the turntable I see a record already there. I can't read the name, so I turn the crank and set the needle on the record.
I don't recognize the song, but the voice is unmistakably Enrico Caruso. Surprisingly the sound is good, so I let it play on as I explore this room, a library.
Finding an oil lamp I light it and the surroundings get a bit less oppressive. The room is really quite large, the lamp light doesn't reach the ceiling. Bookcases line the walls, floor to ceiling. The books all look very old.
I take one down and as I open it, it crumbles in my hands. Sad to have all this literature at my hands and to be unable to touch it, I sit in the dusty armchair and cry.

Extra Lonely

It's extra lonely in my life right now,
if only you hadn't told me that I was;
(lonely, that is.)
then now I'd just be back in 'bama
waiting for some miracle to fix my car.

I wish you'd get back to your perch,
directing the fiber of the universe
and letting me know when I'm terribly
wrong about something.

Selfish, I know;
I am.

But all of my sunshines are
absent;
and you're the one with
the largest vocabulary.

My Companion (d)

You decide that I need a companion on my trip so you show up at the airport and IM me to come and pick you up on my way out of town.
For some reason I do and our trip cross country is filled with adventures and mishaps that we laugh about when we're old.