Do I have to explain?

So maybe I fell for an image.
or an illusion?
I thought it was your jokes.
Maybe I knew what it was,
do I care?
I care enough to keep burning
in the fire.
Maybe you can explain it to me?

Such a Goon

I'm such a goon.

I know that I tell stories of the past
way too much. I have current stories,
but they're not as interesting to me.

Something has changed in me.
Something lost.
I don't giggle as much anymore.
I'm not as spontaneous with my words.

Now I think before I speak,
which means I resist saying much of anything.
I'm such a goon by nature,
but he made me shut up and grow up.

Now my face looks old and stressed,
My mind always thinking
"What an idiot I've been!"
I want to be free,
to feel young and spontaneous again.

Ignoring ignorance doesn't teach me a thing.
It just kills the child.

The Tragedy Is...

Not what happened,
but what was lost.


Not losing the way,
but finding a new way
untraveled.


Not stolen passion,
but aroused concupiscense.


Not loss of love,
but dilution of confidence.


A can of worms unsealed.

Only Blondes

He told her why they could only be friends,
He only liked blondes.
He said, "I can't explain it,
but blonde hair and blue eyes is all I will consider."

The girl confirmed it will never "be" then.
She said,  "I will never dye my hair nor change my eyes, ever!"

So what happened eight years later? Madness!

Moral of that story:

"Don't judge a love by it's color"

What? Who? When? Where? Why? How?

I thought I knew myself well,
but now I know that I know nothing.
Everyday that I live,
I confirm to myself,
I must continue to
ask questions.

Drinking Wild Turkey

This is a little dopey story of a time when I was younger, around 14. Mom left us and dad became a bachelor. We moved into his bachelor friend's house and I was designated as lady of the house; responsible for all shopping, cooking and house cleaning. Some days it was overwhelming the way dad controlled my time. I didn't feel like a normal teenager at all.

I decided it was time to set him up to date. We shopped and fit him with a couple of Angel Flight suits and a new hair style to prepare for the disco clubbing scene of the late 70's.  One night he met a Puerto Rican lady who had a daughter my age. We got together a few times.  The daughter and I hit it off really well, so dad agreed that we could hang out together while he and the lady go out for dinner and dancing.

We did all the usual teenage things; talked about boys, music, and mischief.  She asked me if there was any alchohol in the house. Of course, I was proud to show her the fully stocked party bar...after all this was a bachelor pad.  There was even a player piano in the bar area. She quickly found the rum and mixed it with some Coke, but I had never done anything like this before, so I decided to get the bartender's guide out and prepare a drink that I knew my grandmother loved. A Manhatton. It always seemed impressive with that cherry on top. Following the directions, I mixed the Wild Turkey, Coke and Grenadine  and even put a cherry on top. It was delicious!!! My grandma had good taste.

Through the night we laughed and called boys and she had a friend who drove, so he came over and took us cruisin for a while. I had two good sized Manhattans before I left. I remember the car ride being a lot of fun.  We were riding in a black Trans Am and I was in the back.  I leaned over the front seat, because it was hard to hear the conversation. The stereo was so loud!  Pretty sure it was mostly the Commodores he played. I remember the first part of the ride pretty well and I remember beginning to feel sick. I reall y felt I was going hurl, so the guy drove us home and my friend realized I was pretty drunk when I could hardly walk into the house without leaning on her.

She stuck me in the shower and made a pot of coffee. After she made me sip the coffee, I can only remember being in the shower and getting sick. I remember nothing after that except the next morning and my father's wrath. So here is what I was told. I had lost my balance and fell through the glass shower doors. My friend was trying to clean me up when my dad and her mom returned. My dad apparently accused her of giving me some kind of drugs. His date left angry at him for accusing her daughter of such a thing.

The daughter told the story of our liquor cabinet escapade, but dad didn't believe that was all it was, because I was such a mess. I think I was overly generous with that 151 proof Wild Turkey (Or was that 101? I can't remember). We both didn't know there was a difference between that and the Meyers Rum she was having. The taste was all covered up in sweetness.

Dad had to clean me up and get me to bed, but he stayed by my bedside for much of the night. The next day, his girlfriend called to check up on me and she had forgiven my dad. She understood his concern and I'm pretty sure because of her sweetness she convinced him to go light on me. The hangover was enough punishment. I thanked her for that. My dad took me for a ride around the lake and talked to me calmly about what had happened and that would not normally be the way with him. He told me that he feared for my life when he saw me like that. The conversation was so sincere and caring that I really had no desire to disappoint him like that again. Not to mention I was embarrassed that he had to see me totally naked and clean me up...That's enough to cure a teenage girl. I'm not saying I never got drunk again, but the next time was many years later.

Turns out I needed a Bodyguard

       Many years ago my father bought into a timeshare organization. It was the early 80's I was 19, and he offered me the opportunity to use the benefits before the given week was expired. I chose to go to Acupulco. Daddy wouldn't let me go by myself and nobody that I knew at the time could afford the $400 flight. So he hired a bodyguard for me. He chose a tenant of his. It was a single 28 year old, Armenian guy who owned a vacuum cleaner repair shop. I wasn't thrilled about the company, but dad would not let me go any other way. Since it was a two bedroom condo, I figured I could deal with it. I'm sure he would not really be glued to my side the whole time.

     I was wrong. The flight was sheer torture filled with constant bantor that I wasn't interested in and my bodyguard really did glue himself to my side. For days he insisted on making plans and doing tours completely together. I hid my frustration pretty well the first few days, but I was getting pretty sick of being treated like we were a newlywed couple. I had to clarify everywhere we went.  I was beginning to get a bit snippity. Lucky for me that the resort had a beautiful pool that seemed to spill right into the ocean. Many people went down to the pool for happy hour. I spent every afternoon there and I made good friends with the employees of the resort. They knew how I was feeling about my body guard and I didn't have to keep explaining.

      Bodyguard and I went out dancing, but it was a real drag for me.  The second to last night of my trip, the friends I had met invited me to go out with them. I decided to try and get out alone.  I told them I'd meet them at the club. When I returned to the condo I'd found that my bodyguard was incredibly sick. He couldn't keep anything down and had the chills.  I couldn't leave him like that, I'm not heartless afterall, so I stuck around and took care of him. He'd been sleeping for quite a while, so about midnight I thought I could slip out for a couple of hours. Surely he wouldn't miss me. I called a cab and put on my dancing shoes. I didn't really dress up fancy, just comfortable for meeting with friends. A long, full khaki skirt, a loose knit top and salt water sandals.

At the club, I didn't see them. I looked intently all around, and settled in at the back standing bar, with a cocktail.  I'd been asked to dance, but I smiled and said "No, thank you. Just waiting for some friends." About twenty minutes passed and I noticed a man staring over at me. He look quite wealthy and he had two guys in suits on each side of his table. I tried to dodge his glances, but he was intent on staring. I walk to the back payphone and called the one number I had been given to call...this was before the days of cell phones at least for me.  Noone answered that call, so I returned to my spot. Next thing I knew the waitress brought me a refresher of my drink. She pointed to the gentleman and I told her I couldn't accept it. I was waiting for a friend. She told me I had to accept it, there was nothing she could do because she really didn't understand what I was saying. So I smiled at the man and made a motion of "cheers" with the drink in hand. Soon after the men in suits came over. One motioned that his friend wants to talk to me. I explained to both with the best simple English that I could that I was waiting for friends. He said his friend just wants to say "hello" and I should thank him for the drink. He suggested that when my friends come I can go with them. That made sense at the time, so I agreed.

At the table, I said "hello" and "thank you" to the guy. I explained that I only speak English. He wanted me to sit down. I said I am expecting friends to come. As I was trying to keep my distance the guy's guard friend crowded me to the point I just sat down. It was very uncomfortable and I felt trapped with the guy in a suit blocking my way out. I really didn't want it to appear to my friends, if they showed up, that I had found someone else to hang out with. But I also didn't want to be rude to this man that seemed to want to know me. He and I shared some small talk and I even got up to dance with him, but I was so miserable. It was a very cold feeling. I couldn't understand why the man would even want me to stay there? Obviously I was incredibly boring. He tried to tell me in broken English that if they were good friends, they would have shown up. I tried to explain that I was delayed by another sick friend, but it was too complicated to get my message across with the loudness of the club.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, I saw one of my friends at the back of the bar. He motioned me to come.  I told the man my friend was here and I need to go now. The man and his guards in suits wouldn't let me go. I made a little quiet fuss about it and the man said, "Let me walk you out." I said, "I need to use the ladies room first." He agreed to let me use the ladies room on my own. He motioned to the suits to let me out and I walked through the crowded bar towards the ladies restroom. I didn't see my friend anymore, so I just kept moving towards the restroom. Then suddenly I felt someone grab and pull my arm. It was my friend and he said, "Follow me, quick!" Thankfully he didn't let go of my hand and we ran out of the club at lightening speed. He had a cab waiting with the door open. He pushed me in and jumped in himself. The cab took off before the door was even shut, but we were already laughing. I had more of a cry/laugh going. I felt so relieved! He said that guy was not a good guy.

       The gang had changed the club plans and they were at another club they encouraged him to go find me. I was very thankful. We had a ball, dancing and drinking champagne till it was almost dawn. I don't know what that other man had in mind with me, but it didn't feel very good. I've always been convinced that would have ended in tragedy. So my friends saved my life...but the one friend who literally pulled me out of the fire got a little more thanks from me that morning and that really isn't like me, but I thought he deserved it.