Queen for a Day

Such a trampoline of sandy, ill begotten, virtues, bounce up to greet my gritty feet.

And, it is a long road to greet…the others!

The others…like me.

So…I trade mountains for the buttery aroma of all the half shells along north beach.

Not trans.

Not bi.

Just scantily clad friends in need of retreat.

There is no need to beware of differences…between pride or right or wrong.

The Queens and bears and otters who came before me allow for no spite.

Within the dunes, no titles, labels or names.

As the sun also sets…we are all the same.

Hidden on Commercial Street

Flipping of a coin from tail to head.

cart-wheels on the beach.

Drag Queen working the beat on Commercial street.

Bare-footing, on the sultry tar.

Hidden seaport cemeteries overgrown with unknown kin.

Similar searches…

Performed like a well manicured dance from centuries ago.

Gentle Journeymen and Women with unease being the common goal.

A sense of unique sadness for each seeker.

Respectively, all grinding down to the marrow.

Sure as there is salt in the blood.

And, annoyance from the misread.

If I could prosper my soul in this secret search.

I would unleash all that I have.

But cannot be bought.

Yet,

most likely,

I would rather stay a seeker.

Romanizing tales of lost love…

And, her deceivers.

 

Breaking Waters

Fresh water sea gathered around at my knees and feet.

Would the memory fade?

The gentle bear at the edge of a neon street?

The aggressive wallflower that would not give up her nylon seat?

Water, secretly breaking?

May, December, lovers on retreat?

My scattered thoughts…

Re-learning how to ebb, flow and sway?

Watching used to be pilgrims bob in and out of a rainbow bay?

There is a renewed ambiance to my heart.

No matter, how sparse the spark.

A kinship for broken brick streets.

Straight but not narrow with conceit.

Quiet is the comfort with being seated near dark pastels of an ocean at night.

By dawn, a mostly faded memory and I, will move on.

Yet,

I will grasp hold to the feeling of release.

Such as, holding onto someone with a too tight grip.

Knowing tomorrow they will elude my fingertips.

 

 

Bend Over & Shower

‘Get out the camera…take a picture…the drag queens and the freaks are all out on the town!’

You want me down on earth, but I am up in space You're so damn hard to please, we gotta kill this switch
You want me down on earth, but I am up in space
You’re so damn hard to please, we gotta kill this switch

Strange things happen when we go to the earth.  For instance, when earthlings decide to become one with nature once again…as their great, great, great and not so great ancestors did many dark moons ago; they go it alone or in pairs in a tent. Often times, women (lesbians) will or are known to take canines with them.  Further proof they are just as butch as any camper with a Good Sam Seal of Approval.

Camping seems to have lost it’s appeal to me, after this the Last of the Moe, where are Shemp and Larry and Curly routine.  Somewhere between clean and park closed due to bad body odor, I gave up!

Or, better put, after forty, this body should be put out to pasture or replaced with a newer model: Sleek design, aerodynamic and/or two or three fewer orthopedic surgeries.

I threw your shit into a bag and pushed it down the stairs.
I threw your shit into a bag and pushed it down the stairs.

This is how IT all went down in P-town via the Cape of the Cod, pass the sublime surreal ocean breeze and settled in with the mosquito coastline of New England.

First, I started to not care if my legs were shaved or not.  Not a big deal, I had been in the biggest little gay seaport in America. Shortly after the Neanderthal woman look I noticed many lesbians seemed to not care about hygiene in general.  Grassy moss under the arms, biceps by Budweiser and dykes on ten speeds with bumper stickers that read, FRIGID MOTHERFUCKER.

Then the bottom fell out!  Usually, defined by what I do not eat…I became consumed by fried clams and ice cream munchies!     Sad to say, my partner of more than a decade.  The woman I wanted to take back in time.  The love of my heart-strings.  The reason for the Beaver adventure.  Didn’t seem to mind my slow turn into what I typically despise: woman run on junk and junk food madness!

I had dirt on layered atop the stains of mud that covered my pompously hairly body.  My nails chiseled with earthen-too-much- ware and sea salt.  Upon arrival back to civilization BUGS had been found in caverns nestled in the female woods.

‘I can share that above information for I do not know many of you!’

My skin had become reptilian.  And, sadly, as they say owners do…I started looking like my dog.  A hound mix with jowls and an aroma sent directly from the bowels of hell.

I missed my Water-Pik.  I longed to bend over in the shower.  I begged for bathing space that accommodated persons taller than five feet tall.

Sex?  Shit, no!  Didn’t happen!  Closed for renovations!  All parties, dogs, spouse and myself, agreed there were greener sexier pastures in motel rooms without live insect audiences!

Vacation?  All I ever wanted?  Yeah, it’s what bad Kodak memories are made of.

I'm from the 70's and you're a 60's bitch!
I’m from the 70’s and you’re a 60’s bitch!

Worse for wear?  Yes, indeed.  Ridden hard and hung up wet.  I have a dent on one side of Sunshine Sally Dodge Ram from Lesbian Heaven.  It is now covered in inappropriate bumper stickers.  The UTI should clear up with antibiotics!  And, the wardrobe has doubled in size, as well as, the waistline.

No, matter, as they say, THERE WENT THE NEIGHBORHOOD

Hey let’s party

Let’s get down

Let’s turn the radio on

This is the meltdown

Get out the camera

Take a picture

The drag queens and the freaks

Are all out on the town

And cowboy Jane’s in bed

Nursing a swollen head

[Chorus]

Sunshine Sally and Peter Ustanov

Don’t like the scene any how

I crashed my tent into a swamp...I don't care...
I crashed my tent into a swamp…I don’t care…

I dropped acid on a Saturday night

Just to see what the fuss was about

Now there goes the neighborhood

The photo chick made to look sickly

Is standing in her panties in the shower

She plays the guitar in the bathroom

While the police dust her mother’s plastic flowers

And Schoolboy John’s in jail

Making a killing through the U.S. mail

This is the movie of the screenplay

Of the book about a girl who meets a junkie.

The messenger gets shot down

Just for carrying the message to a flunkie.

We can’t be certain who the villans are ‘cuz everyone’s so pretty

But the afterparty’s sure to be a wing-ding as it moves into your

city

There goes the neighborhood

Get Out the Map

So after many, many years of marriage.  After the consoling.  The begging and the pleading.  The Misfits on the Isle of Misfit Animals and Lesbian women…will leave most of their brood home and head down to where the GAIETY began…Ptown!  The last stop on the Cape unless you plan on swimming to Cuba.  Been there many times before…this time however, the big boss has given the thumbs up to a bit of rustic romance in a tent!  My lucky day!

The other night I looked at my spouse as I am sure she has with me; thinking of how far we have come and envisioning the times I sing off key and understanding nothing would have been surmountable without my backup singer.    These now and again glances of quizzical comfort born from years of finishing each other’s sentences make up life.

With every lesson learned a line upon your beautiful face We'll amuse ourselves one day with these memories we'll trace
With every lesson learned a line upon your beautiful face
We’ll amuse ourselves one day with these memories we’ll trace

the Ambiguity of Love
love me love my feet

What is love after a decade plus of snoring, rubbing shoulders with Ben Gay, comforting one an another when a relative has passed?

Tough to say.    Yet, I think I’m beginning to getting the picture.

Could it be that accepting your partner’s not vain attempts at cooking while you’ve just come home from a shit day and a shit job…could it be that those slabs of crispy well done ribs, the pig sticks left in the oven too long, are parts of love’s equation?

Perhaps, at night when sleeping spouse beauty is near her twilight zone and you decide it’s time to draw circles around her breasts, an act she abhors, is that the twinkle in the eye of romance.  The twinkle that allows her to let your sophomoric ways continue a minute past her aggravation point.

Honestly, to me, I feel our love has grown with the frost heaves in the road.  The strange outfits, Hawaiian shorts and flannel shirts.  The days when there is little to say and that feels wonderful.  The nights when I can’t fall asleep and spoon my way into her heaven.  We aren’t big on fighting.  I preach.  My partner becomes moot.  Generally, we avoid a family discussion with all eight animals and the two human fools.  It seems far more peaceable to understand that the quirks and quips and eccentricities we all bring to the table are the perfect equation to a perfectly happy quietly dysfunctional home-built on love and duct tape.

Favorite All Time hit the Road Trip Song:

Get Out the Map

he saddest sight my eyes can see is that big ball of orange sinking slyly down the trees
Sitting in a broken circle while you rest upon my knee this perfect moment will soon be leaving me
Suzanne calls from Boston the coffee’s hot the corn is high
And that same sun that warms your heart will suck the good earth dry
With everything it’s opposite enough to keep you crying or keep this old world spinning with a twinkle in its eye
Get out the map get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
We’ll leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Don’t drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone I’m gonna clear my head
I’m gonna drink that sun I‘m gonna love you good and strong
while our love is good and young Joni left for South Africa a few years ago and then
Beth took a job all the way over on the West Coast
And me I’m still trying to live half a life on the road
I’m heavier by the year and heavier by the load.
Why do we hurdle ourselves through every inch of time and space I must say around some corner
I can sense a resting place

Poseidon and the Bitter Bug
Poseidon and the Bitter Bug (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

With every lesson learned a line upon your beautiful face
We’ll amuse ourselves one day with these memories we’ll trace
Get out the map get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
We’ll leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Don’t drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone
I’m gonna clear my head I’m gonna drink the sun
I’m gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young