One Bag Only

i break your rule…

but I want to grab you

be that girl that can say

the right thing

that can make us right

but I can’t fix you and

and I gotta stop being that girl

that tries to fix everyone

else that’s broken

when I can’t fix myself

 

and you can’t handle my overstuffed luggage

i never could pack light

deep down I know it’s just an excuse

which is why I picked the fight

and forced your hand

to stop the push-pull

for us to end

what never was

better than unpacking your bags in vacancy

losing your luggage in uncertainty

 

and I know your right

my luggage is heavy

even for me

i have no business

involved

in more

until

one bag only

is more than a rule

 

…but I miss my friend

The Joys of Being French

 

The First Million Years or So

600 Years of Unwanted Guests

Middle Ages and the Turn of Provence

Wars of Religion and Hocus Pocus Popes

Oppression, Resistance, Quel Renaissance!

Debating The Age of Bad Taste ou Epoch Classique?

Post-War brings Socialist Mitterand and the Revival of Occitan

The Joys of Being French, Oui or N’est Pas?

 

C’est La Vie in The South of France

Santon Fairs in the Var et Renoir at Les Collettes

Columns, Columns, Columns and a Bridge

Troubadours Cansos, Love Story, La Californie of Europe

Hug the road winding the Cote d’Azur

Bordeaux, Beaujolais, frescoes in Peille

Sailing to Promenade du Soleil

 

Down the Rhone: Orange to Beaucaire

Malabar’s bulging biceps swell

Jagged Alpilles, rocky plains of the Crau, marshlands of the Camargue

For the Rhone is a Saturdays Child

On to Nimes, the Gard and Montpellier

Le Vin’s de Herault and Agde founded by the ancient Greeks

Narbonne, the Corbieres and the Aude, Castles and Cathedrals abound

Last but not least, there’s the Catalans of Roussillon

 

Getting There

By Air, By Coach, By Car, By Train

By Boat, By Bus, By Bicycling

The Song of Summer, Cicadas tune

Siesta under pine trees and game of boules

Tender is the Night with starry skies

Bouillabaisse, Aioli, Thirteen desserts

Estocaficada and onion tart

 

Before Laying a Bet, will it be

Holiday Destination or Life on the Riviera?

Like the Fitzgerald’s and Hemingway’s

You will not be the first to stay

Avec votre coeur dans la méditerranéenne.

Vacancy

Need lurks in the corners of her closet

Trying on a ball gown, a clutch, a stole

Pretending she is anything but herself

 

Waffling between the here and the there, of fame and anonymity

Jimmy Choo heels, borrowed Yurman, Prada on loan

Insecure steps on the red carpet she walks

 

Courage in a bottle, a pill, a man, she requires

For tonight’s masquerade, her anonymous task, she selects a numbing mask and

Free-flowing Vodka Gimlets to quiet her nerves

 

Desire harpooned that summer in Cannes

This chameleon, playing charades, she does pretend

Silk straps off her shoulders fall

 

Passionate promises, poor choices provoked

His smell on her she cannot escape

It’s a shame they will never know his name

Ivory Peonies

Somewhere in the dark corners of my mind

The places we go to hide

I wish I were four and still a child

You say grow up, be a little more mild

 

I never asked you to stay and wait

In fact I think I warned you I’d be late

Flowers only bloom in the spring you see

And it’s been winter for eternity

 

Explains the cold shroud around my heart

And you thought i was just playing tart

No babe, but dessert sure is sweet

Yet haven’t you learned that I ain’t

 

I made you a pie, you baked me a cake

We spent that whole winter down by the lake

Trying to fix, to forgive, to forget

Strangers out of season, frozen with regret

 

I told you I did, I warned you I would

Get bored with gardening in the cold wood

He thawed my ivory peonies one magical night

Now from you I run with fright

 

Back to the comfort corner of my mind

Very safe place to go and hide

I’ll pretend I’m four, a prodigious child

I can’t hear your screams, your call of the wild

 

Some say a cold-water death can be euphoric

For your sins, I know you will burn for it

You and your dreams, now locked in a hard cell

I hope I haunt them from my cold watery hell

Change

“It’s coming.” Said you

 

“What’s that?” Said i

 

“Change.” Said you

 

“Change? Change has come and gone and come again. It’s the only constant. You’ve been busy. Haven’t noticed.” Said i

 

“But I’m afraid of change.” Said you

 

“The hardest part is waiting. With change you skip-the-line. It’s a VIP pass straight to the ride.” Said i

 

 

 

With desperation you looked at me

I could see adequate fascination in your deep blue eyes

You questioned my actions

An intensity only you could deliver.

 

Remember the only constant in time is change

and only change is constant

I warned

 

Trying desperately to make you understand

the future is not something I can tell

nor do I know if I can give

what you want

if I only knew what it was

 

And if I did know these answers would I relinquish them so willing?

 

So time lingered

as predicted

adequacy became waning

as I warned

 

Parting company was easy, no hard feelings

except for a slight loneliness we had both dealt with before

with others we cared only too little about

 

It’s too bad we felt this way

for we too

remain constant

as changes always do

….and Nostalgia Came Creeping In

Do you remember the time when you glanced at me

…and I swear I could see right down to the bottom of your soul

…and it felt so good

a moment captured in time, when all was good and right

…and you knew it too, you felt it same as I

and we thought it might last, we said it always would

but moments like these seldom do

for fear he captures our souls and he whisks us away before our very eyes

before we can recognize that life is too short to let these moments pass us by

…but so often they do

intoxicating…

…as your hand grazed my incandescently illuminated flesh

lips parted

…waiting

…anticipating

my next…

 

and just as soon as I came…

I left

in search of another

…high

yours too had worn off

 

bittersweet succulence

engraved relentless

in clouded memories

 

i took your moment and made it mine

…feeling nothing

…fool’s song

Pencil

Paper

Glass of Wine

In Hand

 

Words

Tools

Emotions

Worn on a Sleeve

 

Break

Crush

Simplicity

At its best

 

Feel

Know

Think

And Grow

 

Healthy

Toxic

Which way

Do I go