dear christa

You could have knocked me over with a feather
But you used your hips instead
And I lay there on the gravel thinking
(oh ho - but not with my head)
Among all the lies I tell myself
Every morning I wake and put the clock on the shelf,
The worst is "One day I'll be free
Of the terrible awakening she caused in me."

See, what was woken can no longer sleep in peace
Though you bruise it with neglect
I never mind, I count out time
And curse, and crick my neck.
And read every word you write in space
They read like stars falling all over my face
And hoping but knowing your love thrives just fine
In rocks and through seas that maybe aren't mine.

(love, j)

free hugs

in my dream, i was giving out free hugs in front of my farmer market stall. i was holding the big sign, and people were coming in droves to try bites of cookies and hug me.

then you appeared and my heart skipped a beat, as it always does, awake or asleep. you stood in the line for hugs and free samples and when it was your turn you refused the free sample and just put your arms around me. i smelled you, felt your warmth, buried my face in your neck, felt your hairline against my forehead. you hugged me until the person in line behind you tapped you on the shoulder and reminded you others were waiting. you moved, almost kissing me but not, and i hugged the next person. and the next, and the next. some would take the free sample of cookies first, some waited until after, and no one was buying. but everyone was walking away happy. after i hugged a little old lady i thought was my gramma, you were there in front of me again, having stood in line for a long time for your second chance. again, i fell into your embrace, longing so much for more than this, knowing that once free hugs were over, that would be it, we were finished until the next time circumstances allowed us our moments together. your hands moved slowly up and down my back, fingers dipping into my hair, a finger sliding along my ear. i felt your chest move up and down with your breathing, and the warm cotton of your t-shirt was soft against my cheek.

the person in line behind you coughed politely, and you reluctantly let go. i offered you another sample, and you refused, again. i was blushing and we waved goodbye. the line-up was longer this time and i felt moved by the numbers of people coming in just for hugs from me. i did not feel tired or put-upon, every contact made was energizing and beautiful. sometimes people would hug me almost absentmindedly even though they'd stood in line for several minutes just to do it. they'd be chewing their sample of vegan cookie or talking distractedly to their friends. i got one-arm hugs, and loosey-goosey hugs. i got a very tight hug from a small woman who was crying and i patted her hair and said, "there, there." and as she walked away smiling through her tears, there you were again, standing in line, waiting for me, again.

this time i laughed out loud and didn't blush. we went through the motions. i tried to offer you a free sample, you refused, saying you were only here for the hug. i put my arms out, palms up, inviting you in, and you came forward. at the first moment of torso contact i felt something give in my chest and i started to cry. then it was you patting my hair, while i watched fat drops fall from my cheeks onto your t-shirt shoulder and make dark spots. your mouth moved to my ear and said, "you might love me, you know."

my whole body tensed up with the words, and then i relaxed again, and replied, "i know i might."

my heart is a caramel apple dipped in rum
and i know you want a taste.
the gift-wrapping:
red cellophane, golden velour bow
is unneccessary, i know,
but the game we play has rules.
to win, say the word love
with that hungry voice i've heard.
i'll unwrap,
and we'll both be happy,
in a candy apple glaze.

i was in a basement room with someone i'm sweet on. we were looking through my mom's old LP collection: king crimson, zappa, the beatles, zeppelin. he asked if the turntable there worked, and i said, "i'm pretty sure, but the needle might need replacing."

suddenly he was gone and i was left standing there holding a "bay city rollers" record. the light changed from table lamps to a bare swinging bulb. i heard water dripping and looked up. the walls and ceiling had been wallpapered over but up in the corner the paper had a little pinhole and drops of water were coming out. "shit, we have a leak from that toilet upstairs," i thought, and went over to investigate. as i did, another leak sprung through. "damn," i said. then another leak. then another. i finally called up the stairs, "leon! can you bring down some pots or something?"

"what?" was his reply, irritated.

"there are leaks down here, i need pots and pans to catch them!" i shouted. i was getting close to the wallpapered wall and ceiling and noticed it was bulging and looking thin. against my better judgement i poked at it and was shocked at how easily it gave way, the way my finger slid right in. i pulled it out and a gush of water flowed out. the hole i'd made weakened the rest of the wallpaper and more and more spots were wearing through, water pulsing out, all over, splashing on the cement floor, on my mom's LP collection, over my bare feet and the cushions me and my sweetheart had been sitting on. i started to panic a little and climbed up the stairs backwards a few steps, watching the basement flood, calling, "leon, leon hurry!"

suddenly the lights went out completely, both upstairs and down. leon was stomping through the hallway at the top of the stairs, swearing, "fucking lazy bitch. get your own fucking pans. i'm not your fucking gopher. FUCK." i started crying there, on the bare wooden stairs, in the dark, cold water swirling up around my ankles.

"leon, please!" i shouted, too afraid to move in the dark. i craned my head around to look up through the dark doorway and saw his silhouette standing there. he wasn't swearing anymore, but he was taking off his work jacket, and saying, "fine, but YOU better fucking be the one to bring it back up." he hurled the balled up jacket at me through the dark. i tried to cry out that it wasn't his coat i needed (though i did suddenly figure out i was naked), but pots and pans, to catch leaks. i tried to dodge the coat, and the movement sent me rolling off the stairs, head over heels, and into icy black water.

i've dreamt about you every night. sometimes you are bringing me presents. sometimes we are just laughing in the kitchen holding beers. sometimes we are kissing. last night, we were in the backseat of someone's car, mystery person driving us who-knows-where. i was sad, curled up against the door, head resting on the window, trying to sleep. i think we were running away. you were holding my hand softly. sometimes you would touch my hair or cheek. you kissed the knuckles on my first two fingers. i was crying and afraid but your tenderness saved me from utter despair.

i could tell you small details about yourself that you would think went unnoticed

your cavalier mouth opening to finish off a glass of wine, mid-laugh
the adam's apple bobbing in an olive throat as you swallow, smooth shave
and the thoughtful way you mingle its tannins with the shiny mint
gloss i left on your lips as a kiss hello.

a crisp white cuff rolled over tanned forearm, tendons moving
and fingers lingering above certain piano chords, head bent
low in lost thought, short black hairs on the back of your neck raised
at my breath, fuming with liquor, and clinging to your body.

the blackfall of your eyelashes over pupils, lowered gaze
and smile lines deepening in response to my conspiratorial whispers
the conchshell swirl of your ear accepting all my unabashed promises
and the faint traces of your fingerprints causing friction under my skirt.

every layer of scent on your body: light cologne, fresh soap, pheromone
that unconcious sound you make over and behind me in our darkened room
every ripple in your body's muscles, a flexing loin, sheets in fists
your deep, soft cry. an out-of-mind overflowing declaration: in love, in love.

i see little boy you and old man you and all points between, in pale morning light
with your breathing in, and out, and an arm cast lazily against the headboard
your chest sunken in dreams, belly up, belly down
i rest my cheek there, count the dark hairs. my wrist white, your hip brown.

hotel room

hotelroom

it's one a.m and the clock numbers are blue, not red
flashing, not still
and the windows to the room
are blacker than night
a picture of pitch
a maw in wallpaper
textured art deco.



hotelyou.

i woke up to a breath unfamilliar, not unpleasant
hot, not a smell
and the pillow case on my cheek
was stiffer than starch
a crispy paper
a glow in my ear
fresh dis-ease.



hotelme.

i remember coming around, not from sleep
drunkenness, not giddy
and my head felt heavier than my body
loagier than luggage
a stuffed rock
a sloshing in my helmet
gurgling decisions.



hotelus.

your hands bigger, but not more than my breasts
observation, not comparison
and you moved slower than my husband
older than both of us
a gentle patron of discontent
a father figure
conjuring satisfaction.



hotelstay.

it's four a.m and your face is blank, not dreaming
mouth open, not speaking
and i hear a word in my head
discussing our engagement
a hint of disapproval
a smirk of satisfaction
slipping into cabs.



hoteldawn.

what i want is not rational

passion (not anger)
tranquility (not boredom)

sweetness (not saccharine)
gentle (not soft)

teeth (not bone)
seeing (not perspective)

rushing (not hasty)
secrets (not lies).

last night i dreamed i was at this outrageously fancy wedding, with no kids or husband. and at the table where i was seated was matthew mcconaughey. we were having a pleasant chat all through the meal and he kept pouring me glasses of wine. finally it was time to get up and dance and he asked me if i would dance with him. of course i said yes, but i was nearly sloppy drunk and apologized to him in advance for my terrible dancing skills. he laughed and took me in his arms and we started moving to the music, real ballroom-type stuff. i had on this long, rich scarlet red and gold dress with fairy sleeves and bare shoulders. he was in a simple tux. as we dnanced i started asking him questions about his work and life and he said something like, "nothing prepared me for meeting someone like you, christa". and i blushed and said, "i could have danced with anyone here tonight, you know!" and he said, "well, why did you pick me, then?" and i said, "because i always pick the celebrities that i know like to smoke the most pot," to which he laughed and laughed. after a few songs i asked him about hollywood weddings and how many of them seemed to be PR stunts or marriages of convenience and he agreed that that did seem to be the case with most. suddenly i was overtaken with a drunken case of the vapours so strong i excused myself to the ladies room, which was more opulant than even the fanciest hotel room i'd stayed in. i lay on a long blue velvet couch and closed my eyes for just a moment. when i opened them again, i realized i had been a fool to leave matthew mcconaughey alone out there, when he had seeemed so into me, and so many of the other women at the wedding had seemed so into him. i got up in a panic to rush back out, but when i pulled the door open i saw through the crack that several mobsters had stormed the reception, and most people had cleared out. these two gorrilla men were walking around the reception hall with baseball bats and metal rods and chasing two other mobster-type guys. matthew mcconaughey was standing by the door leading out, his face bloodied, using his knuckles to wipe it off his upper lip, looking at the blood briefly, and then turning his attention back to the violence at hand. i was trapped, the fight was happening between me and matthew mcconaughey and the exit. he spotted me and made a hand motion like, "what are you doing? come on, come on!" i swallowed hard, took a deep breath, waited until the two mob guys with the bats and rods were busy beating on the other two mob guys again, and ran for it. matthew mcconaughey caught me in his arms at the other side, and we burst through the doors to the parking lot. he was laughing and bleeding on my dress. i mashed my mouth against his and he pulled away quickly and said, "uh, christa? i don't know if you know this, but...i'm gay."

i'm in a large, old, drafty, unfamilliar house. it's late afternoon or looks like it by the light filtering in through the smeary windows. i hear a man's voice, ominous, coming from one of the upper rooms in the house and another noise that sounds awful and wet. i find a staircase and start climbing it, and his voice gets louder and deeper and i realize he's chanting bible verses. i find the room he's in, the door is open a crack already, and i kick it all the way open. he is standing there with a bible in one hand, held out as though he is at the pulpit, and he's chanting and chanting in a booming voice. in his other hand, he is crushing the throat of a small girl - maybe three years old. she is only hanging there, limp, though from the wet choking noises she's making i can tell she is still alive. i lunge at him, surprised to see i have a large rock in my hand already, and just as i get close enough to brain him with it, i realize the girl is me.

wake up from the noise of me shouting in my sleep.


later in the morning i dream i am in the livingroom and the dog is barking to be let in from the deck. i open the door and she won't come in, and seems focused on the area underneath our patio doors. when i lean down i see that some kind of animal has chewed some holes there and crawled into our walls. it is still busy at work, in fact, and bits of wood dust are wisping out of the holes as i watch. i step back inside and call leon to come see. he emerges from the basement and as we stand on the deck to see if it's rats or not, we discover it is in fact two old mangy cats. they crawl out of the holes they've dug in our home and stare at us. one is black and white and has medium-length fur, all matted and patchy. the other is a grey and white siamese-cross, and as i look closer at it i see that it is probably blind. suddenly the dog lunges at the cats, viciously. we are shocked as one cat retreats back into the hole but the dog manages to grab the blind siamese and begins shaking it violently in her mouth. the cat makes no noise but i'm screaming at leon to make the dog let the cat go. he says, "i don't know. there's something creepy and wrong with those cats." i keep screaming, "make her drop it! make her drop it!" and finally he makes a move to grab the dog by her collar, but it's too late. the dog rips the cat's head completely from it's body.

wake up again from the noise of me shouting in my sleep.