A timid rabbit

with latent March Hare tendencies

you were to be

my

plus one

at a Chatter Party

–alternately Mad, Glad, and Sad Party–

staged

(almost)

exclusively for your addition

(boy, were you bad at math!)

and the usual

background

guess’d were in attendance

the Liddle girl Lost

the whore/louse

the 3 not-so-blind mice

and me, of course me–

the Chatter

and you, of course you

the Platter

–spinning and scratching like

you meant to DJ the lot of it

or at least

um…see…

but oaf that you are

you failed to notice

–how fragile the Tea Cups were

–how delicate the balance on saucer,

–how half-empty the cream pitcher

breaking all

and sundry

like an elephant

. . .

an elephant in a China shop

with no regard

for the shards your trampling

left behind.

A pacifist,

the bite of the writing bug

prompted

its immediate catch-and-release.

Afraid that

the questing legs

might spin webs

to ensnare me,

I trapped it under glass

–and reams of paper–

and ok!

followed its excited trails testing boundaries

for a second

. . .

(decade or so)

and then I just

set it free

. . .

outside

. . .

on frosted

step,

–in gloomy mourning–

watching the very

legs I feared

freeze

since bug

had kicked into life

at the fire in my own heart

–ill-suited

to actual sub-zero

temperatures–

–and inner fire

only ash now–

the liberty given

denoted its death.

Oh, truth be told!

I was also Afraid

it might fly

–given time to–

might morph

from creepy-crawly

bookworm

into breathtaking

winged thing,

impossible to contain

under glass,

impossible to keep

in a Net,

and altogether impossible to

pin down

–without ending–

its fragile

velvet

flight.

I

used to be

before PC

another situation,

a ringing phone

was conundrum

awaiting salutation,

you never

answered

on first ring

oh no! since you were busy

not hanging there

in nearby chair,

wondering where is he?

you let it ring

at least 3 times,

then answered slightly breathless…

heartbeat sound

in ear then drowned,

sense from any sentence.

now the deal,

the newest spiel,

is answering an IM…

a text or snap

an fb chat

just when do you reply ’em?

not right away!

o hells no, hey!

who cares if you’re online

online’s fine

but not same time!

you gotta give ’em hangtime,

a Gordian Knot

a true “what’s-what”

when paused to think about it,

like saying “hi”

in real life

when far enough to shout it…

a Modern day Scribe must write.

first and foremost

attending to the guts of a story as if it might never be read,

revealing in great detail the smudges on light bulbs long trashed,

the same smudges to which any handled object is subject,

but few dare own.

Surrendering pride

the Modern Day Writer writes because she knows.

–knows someone has to record accuracies.

Distortions, satires,

and parodies, too–

versing excursions

and lessons only learned in detention,

but accurate.

The Modern Day Muse is possessed.

Scribbling characters.

Characters by word.

Blacked reflections of

experience perceived

–sometimes reactions

rarely redactions–

since the Modern Day Truth Teller is

unconcerned with falderal

such as popularity

–knowing, as she does,

that veracity will endure in a manner

prettiest eyes,

lies,

and cleanest ass

–will not.

The Modern Day Poet

aches with every

interaction.

Bruised by careless rabble

more counterfeit than compliment

(like China)

original thought diluted

by virtue of sleeping heard

Still, the Modern Day Writer wields this pain

as pen–

–all pain, really.

an act that can compound

but might diffuse

often astounding the scribe herself

as it disperses

into all that’s unwritten between lines

–that the best Modern Day Writers include.

I attempted to

pull myself up

by my bootstraps–

but discovered I was

wearing

loafers,

and I sought to keep it in perspective,

but my camera switched

to selfie mode

–in and of itself, terrifying–

and my dysmorphia deepened,

and I tried to brush it off

shoulders

–squaring–

(2)

but my Roomba

(with a view)

had hella strong force,

and I was obliged

to suck it up instead.