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Cryptic Nite

Karen Robiscoe dba CHARRONs CHATTER
 
sitting duck

I faced—stood,

sucker blew,

and skin thickened
 
 
–a snake in reverse,

and molten,

the opposite

of outburst,

ashen,

different than pendulum,

granite,

all day to day drama

–reel life

a tearjerkin’

whodunit

romantic

thriller

–that’s strictly indie,

‘cuz

frontin’s worse

–disowning my

“humanity”

in quotes, because we can

beso

beastly.

kid glove failure

a soul denial and

hefty price

–when time is money

and attention currency.

Well, fellow human,

toys are us,

and we’re pretend–

and yet.

–if I cut you,

do I not bleed?

Rain Reign…Go Away

rain_rain

eye storm chase.

jealous of

surrounding maelstrom–

under black umbrella

I beat rain.

blue-ribbon mind

blocking grey and gold

to collapse

para sol

(for sun)

and slicker

(than some)

I seek refuge

from elements

pursued–nevertheless.

for soothe,

only drumming water

breaches cracks

and drenches beast within

cowering from

down

pour–

–that melting,

wicked bitch.

Call Waiting

small diane sketch

she’ll die tomorrow

–gun in hand

hand that guided

pastel

before pistol,

color

before dolor, and

paint

before pain,

will trigger

an end game

she can…ah…live with

–Russian Roulette

grown tiresome.

Loading every

monkey in that barrel,

she’ll cry rough

–for the last time–

punch buttons

to bells

to voice mail unheard.

she’ll die tomorrow

(all over again)

gun in hand.

 

The same…only different


 
If I hadn’ta left the beach early. . .

feelin’ like grit

an’ if I’da bypassed Uptown Gym

for more familiar territory. . .
 
 
 
an’ if I didn’ta go

impulsive-like

to check on that job I know I’ll forego

good busywork in lieu of

an’ if I’da been rigid

­like I said I would be. . .

an’ skipped Gelson’s sriracha wings

–an’ guilty!

Gone on to Vons for sundries,

an’ smokes

I’d hate myself for

only to bump into seXe Dave

or was it vice-revers’a?

an’ chat just exactly

long enough to decide against death

an’ feel attractive again

that Dave knows how to do that

then I never woulda

got home when I did. . .

to discover that terrified bunny baby

soaked from days of storm

a sittin’ duck

on our patio built for killin’

a mouse for cat

just waitin’ to get picked off.

An’ that bon-bon size

bun-bun

was too easy to catch

even fer me

after tossed wheat Chex went ignored

an’ reachin’ into the inadequate cover he’d assumed,

I took the shiverin’ bun•let to Wildlife Care

inna carrier that’ll take the edge off vet trips, now

–assurin’ him alla way

he’d be warm,

an’ he’d be fed,

an’ he’d be safe,

tellin’ him I knew it didn’t feel like it, now

fer me either

but he was gonna make it out alive

stronger

–restored,

an’ all growed up

. . .

an’ still

so close to home.

 

Completely Super Sunday

amfootball
 
15 min chunks.

My life is completely amazeballs

in

15 min chunks.

During these quarter hours

it’s important not to

intro’spec’

–to keep my inner glasses off,

or at the very least—unknown.

for 15 min, sure.

I can do that for

15 min—yeah.

Since my life is completely

okay

in 15 min segments.

Vivisected coil of

animate

(gif!)

snaking a way to shed skin

in 15 min or less,

and just that many seconds

you do the math—

completely okay.

. . .

so cool!

(to recap)

in 15 min increments

my life is completely tolerable.

in 15 min parcels

tied up with strings

that strangle,

(in rooms with no high beam)

–completely white-knuckled tolerable,

in 15 min blocks.

as long as I don’t look

ahead,

above,

or behind,

I’m 15 min

good

for the game.

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