What to do when Naked

I will break this segment up in two phases:

Fighting with spouse…do’s and don’ts

What to do when naked?

Word has it on the ‘street’…Kaitlin Adderley, firmly believed that by taking her clothes off…piece by thong piece…she would show the world…and her boyfriend, just what they are missing!

According to a probable cause statement, Adderley was dressed when police arrived, but she made a statement to officers saying she had taken her clothes off during an argument with her boyfriend.

You knew what this was
I don’t want you anymore
I warned you before, I warned you before
Well I coulda sworn I told you I was mean

First and loathing-ly, I admit to having pulled some ‘stunts’…when semi single.

“Let me out of this car now!”

“I don’t care that we are in the middle of traffic hour, we are both menstruating or that we are driving in the galaxy of bad drivers (Mass-holes!)

Back beyond our first ‘date’. I say, first date, because everyone knows…

a lesbian’s second date requires moving in together.

Way back when my wife and I called arguments..discussions. Just to make life a little less like our parents.

Way back when, I felt she did not need another pair of…Croc’s from the Croc factory…to add to her,  Imelda Marcos , collection.

One thing led to another, potty mouths, potty words, bringing up dysfunctional past behaviors and correlating it with current days…shit! On and on, it went. Until I found myself walking down route 128…north out of Boston!

I learned terribly quickly that as much as I found myself fighting like my passive-aggressive mother…I can always change.

Alright so poor, Kaitlin, got busted! But busted naked! This trans-formative way of ‘fighting’ with significant others…encouraged me to look into,

How do we use our naked-ness…to get our way?

Most popular?

Well we know where we’re going
But we don’t know where we’ve been
And we know what we’re knowing
But we can’t say what we’ve seen
And we’re not little children
And we know what we want
And the future is certain
Give us time to work it out

Texting naked! Encouraging someone on the other end to loose track of reality and…put one out! Right there in the damn car!

There were a sundry of other misdemeanors…

-plain old driving naked

-going to church naked

-home burglary…while naked

On and on…again!

In all honesty, this one brought me back. Naked! Naked! What have I done…nude? And, why?

In college, when my parent’s with minus function, had thought it a good idea to move from the city to the country.

Pissed off! Newly egocentric! Longing for tarred roads! I thought it a good idea to…iron…naked!

B strong! B brave! B humble! B badass!

That is right. In my fragile mind and blooming body, an ‘all body’ tan, was needed. Not only a physique without tan lines but clothes…freshly ironed, pressed and clean scented.

One thing led to another down a dirt and sodden road…Canterbury; I soon learned that ‘vehicles’ travel with a certain carcinogenic noise. And, everyone else (employees of my mother who live nearby) travel by horse. Horses are nice and quiet and generally do not alert naked college students doing their ironing on the back deck…of their approach.

Canterbury Confessions

Would the matter make any difference if we could turn back time, together or apart?

Remove our granite love letter?

Wear sandals for the steps it took to get us here?

Instead of leaden wear steel- toed shoes…

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The anonymity becomes unmasked from time to time.

Transgressions…etched forever in stone.

But with every stride…grave indecision, blindfolds my mind.

Conflicted…there is no joy in the ride.

And, no matter the journeys I take…Canterbury Confessions have nowhere to hide.

How remarkable the steps it takes to bury pride.

 

Rejuvenated Faith

A color of faded cotton perks and pokes a quiet and basic day.

Somewhat like a rural assent fed with freedom…

Drawn with tints of rejuvenation.

My same old stroll is teaming with wise colors.

Tangled with piped dreams of syrup.

No matters of coincidence

with the ancient cemetery or forgotten farm.

Even the decadent find rejuvenated faith…

in the sun’s soothing charm.

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Dark Rooms

In the father’s bag of lackluster delights.

Photos, oh so still, of kindness and flowered sprites.

Hand picked pixels for a child’s plight.

Thus, a student, I became.

Chiseled out of a teachers harsh lessons.

Everything beyond the four hollowed doors were overcast by rain.

Infantile in thought, somehow, beauty remained.

 

In the age of living dangerously,

I aspired to hold the paper cut art…to his throat.

It was only within my black and white discoveries…

that I witnessed…intermittently, madness and hatred…

occasionally transcend.

Into a world of what is conceived…

and, what is best left for pretend.

 

 

Stories, Yet to be Told

Drove by the old house today.

A stranger in waiting, sold the shame.

Thus far, looming sadness hung in the earthy frame.

In the snow encrusted trail.

Further on down a humble gravel road.

Sitting on a rocky fence.

Composed centuries before, in haste, by a homesteader’s plight.

I had become slack about what steered me here.

That is until my seated bones turned stale and cold.

And, unchained branches of nature reminded me…

there are stories yet to be told.’