Next summer


The water pools under her dirty feet
Dark and clay-like they sink further into the murky deep
“Stick to me like glue , “she thinks
There’s always next summer to get you clean
The water swirls in her dirty sink
I’ve been washing these hands for years it seems
The cracks are trials of yet another week
But there’s always next summer to get you clean
The water ebbs at her bended knees
I’ve been waiting on them for decades in silent plea
So stiff and weary from years of no belief
There’s always next summer to get you clean
The water flows in the swollen creek
No boulders trapping it’s fast release
Just the sharp, jagged edges of it’s furious relief
And there is always next summer to get you clean

The Sweepstakes


Clean it up , buttercup

I’m an angry cleaner and I always have been. My great grandmother knew it before I did. She said that if you married a woman who cleaned when she was angry then you better not give her a real serious reason to be angry, because she wouldn’t leave any evidence and she’d be ready for visitors – to pay their respect during the mourning period.

Then she cackled and told me my great grandpa had gotten the nurse pregnant and wanted her to raise the baby . She also told me how sorry she was that I had cancer and congratulated me on my marriage to Bob Barker from the game show , “ The Price is Right”.

The only thing she was right about was the cleaning when angry part . 

This was a lot to take in when you were 12 years old but I really wanted to see how I fast I could clean my room during a temper tantrum. Maybe I could set a record or something.

The front porch was swept up in a flash and the spotless floor had no idea how much I wanted to do it again .

Friday Fictioneers


Tired of frostbite , HD decided to try his luck in the personal ads:

I’m looking to meet the girl who melts my heart . I’m usually the one who is accused of being a little frosty at first but when you get to know me , I’m super chill . I’m not always cool but I wanna meet some gals who are not expecting lukewarm or watered down company . I’m not into curdling but if you think your the cream of the crop, maybe we can make it rain .. snow or sleet. I’ll shake things up for ya. Who’s ready for this milkshake?
P.S. It turns out that Susan in accounting is.

Friday Fictioneers


rochellewisoff.com/2019/07/24/26-july-2019/

Photo by Sandra Cook

”Edith, what on earth are you writing? I swear you are too much! ” Edith’s friend had an abundant, round face that showed how amused she was by Edith’s ardent participation in the re-enactment exercise, cleverly made possible by the owners of the Dracula Travel Train.

Edith however, continued to write furiously.

Dear J:

“I have at last escaped from the Count and am anxiously awaiting the due diligence to deliver me to safety. I must say the locals are not so helpful and forthcoming as previously surmised. Haste is of utmost importance !

Both women were startled by the words of the newest passenger who made his presence known only by flatly stating ” The dead travel fast.”

Illustration from Dracula, Bram Stoker , 1867

Black Water


I would say I hate you

but I hate me more

I drained the bath water then dove headfirst

into remiss or a longing that’s called

a nightmare , the abyss

I siphoned the filth out of my weeping lungs

and choked on my bitter tongue

With that violent chasm

I sputtered half dead

and drowned the last little bit of sad

the proverbial baby and all that jazz

out with the dirty wash I thought you ‘d go

but then I heard you snoring  or wheezing or maybe reeling

as I rolled over and smothered that thought

of missing your lips and crushed that last regress

hard pressed though

to shed a tear this time

the wound it’s just too old

with now stone cold fingertips,

I  brushed  you off

then finally ,you go

Auvoir, kiss, kiss and

Away…then

You’re gone

 

 

Just Leave


It hit me like a brick mess it ran red like that just too quick

when you called me out

for catching the feels

you said

You hated it for me

made yourself leave

but I told you didn’t I

What it was about to be

can I still be

Still be kinda sorry

That it got weird the

instant you stayed

and I kind of liked it

I mean I liked you

Before …

when you’d leave