IT

It’s been thirteen long years.
Still feels like yesterday.

A hot cocoa kind of day.
Marshmallowy grey sky.
Stirring and swirling winds.

A peaceful day in the park.

Shadows dancing long behind the sun.
Leaves crunching like crackers under foot.
A typical stroll through tranquility.

At least at first.
Until IT appeared.

It was a divine kind of light.
Majestic and mesmerizing.
Colorless yet captivating.
Eerily extraterrestrial.

Dawn was not typically so inquisitive.
She mostly kept by my side.
But the light summoned her like it would most children.
So I let her explore.

How was I supposed to know?
It seemed harmless.

Take Your Seat

It’s funny
How things come together.
How destiny dances a lucky draw.

Of all the shows. Of all the slabs. Of all the rows.
This was mine,
Hand-selected by fortune herself.

A tragedy of baroque raiment and regalia unfolded on stage,
With a herd around me gawking and gasping,
Pretending they hadn’t a clue.
Yet there I was—a spiral amidst squares.

“So why was I there?”

My thoughts swam laps above the stage.
My eyes strolled aimlessly across the crowd.
I scoured every face in that place,
Until my heart finally grasped a glimmer of light—
The moon’s reflection shaded green
By an iris’s majestic grin.

Her smile could melt the hearts of a thousand men.
Her hair could put silk out of business.
Her breasts could swallow an infant’s dreams.
But her eyes...oh, her eyes!
They are Shakespeare’s every inspiration.

When the waves of praise rolled back to sea,
And the curtsies all completed,
It was then I courted my Queen,
It was then I began to see…

…why I was there.
At that show. On that slab. In that row.

Because fortune works in funny ways.
And on that day
She gave me a sign…

Best Day of My Life

This is supposed to be the best day of my life. The day I gallop into the sunset atop a white stallion stroking Prince Charming’s luscious locks. The day little girls dream of.

Yet her I am; immaculately manicured fingers clenched round a rusty gate with the relentless grip of an alligator’s chomp. My feet hugging the narrow steps as if one slip will send me tumbling to my demise. My heart pounding like a herd of drunken elephants beating their bongos. My chest swelling with the pressure of an imminent roaring geyser. I’m beginning to shiver and shake. Wobble and wonder. What have I done?

Of course I look gorgeous in my pearly white wedding dress, but how will I look in twenty years? Will I be a good mother? Will I have healthy children? Can I please my husband? Is he even the right man for me? What have I done!?

I’m only nineteen years old. Merely an elemental fetus in the life of our sun. Yet apparently old enough for marriage. Of course I love him, but does love warrant a writ of matrimony? Can lovers not laze in a sea of amative adulation without worrying about drowning under the pressure of wedlock?

I think—pressing the iron gate tightly against my bosom as if it were my stuffed teddy bear—that I’ve sprinted too fast toward the finish line of affiance. I guess I just wanted to please Pappa. He always wanted to have grandchildren to scuffle around with on the farm. I simply wanted to see him smile again. He’s getting old, and with Mamma baking sweet pomegranate pies high above the clouds with Jesus, Pappa needs those grandchildren now more than ever. But is marriage the answer? Can’t I just buy him a dog?

Well, it’s too late now—I’ve already donned the dress. I just hope my central nervous system drags me off these steps sometime soon.

Look at my little sister standing there begging me to come back down to earth. Doesn’t she look so beautiful holding that bouquet? I can’t wait until she gets married!

Believe What You See

There I was minding my own business, snapping shots of my friends as we scurried through the ruins of Roman history, when out of nowhere this snowy vapor; this wisp of white light; this cloaked cloud of inconspicuous chalk swept across my lens as surreptitiously as Bruce Lee himself.

I was stunned for a moment. Angry at the thought that my carefully framed photo had been sabotaged by a supernatural ninja. But when I glanced down to see what sort of pixeled portrait I had captured, my anger swiftly spun into delight. I wasn’t sure at first, but after a second glance it was still there.

I had always heard stories of lost souls languishing around their forgotten stomping grounds, but I never knew what to believe. The closest encounter I ever had with a ghost was a quick quip at 4 a.m. amidst a marvelous acid trip. That didn’t seem to count, considering my brain was awash in LSD and my perceptions were slightly askew to say the least.

Despite whatever perceptive skepticism I had until that point, I was now a firm believer in animate apparitions. I just wish I had snapped the shutter in time for her to say cheese!

I Do

Do you remember, my dear? The way the wind whispered cool lullabies on our fair skin. The sun’s radiant song and its ultraviolet tune. The vast landscape begging us to dash headfirst down the hill. I do.

I’ll never forget gazing into the galaxy of your gorgeous green eyes. Or admiring the way your hair danced in the breeze like a jellyfish gently searching the sea. Or the way you meticulously grazed upon your salad as if one lost red-tipped leaf would set the world upside down.

As we marched up the rocky mountainside that afternoon, I was more nervous than an ice cube under a heat lamp. For eons I envisioned how that day would unfold. Step for step. Word for word. Unfortunately I always ended up saying something stupid and making a jester of myself.

Ironically, it wasn’t just in my head. I really was a buffoon. But that’s why I fell in love with you. You get me. You see that the narcissist who’s too bloated to laugh at his own ridiculous behavior will never reach true enlightenment. I’m just glad you can laugh with me.

Do you remember, my dear? Sitting upon our wooden throne, pretending we were erudite emperors protecting our people as they plowed the earth below. Do you remember? Laughing, kissing, dancing, dreaming. We were on top of the world. Literally.

Do you remember, my dear? What you said when I reached out and plucked a diamond star from the sky just for you. I DO.