Je m’appelle Lisa

I neither got to visit Versailles
Nor know wanderlust’s calm at Gare de Bruges
That glory was one beat too far

Moulin Rouge commanded some checklist, foreign to me
And we’d “miles to go”
Topless beaches on the Med, and all….
Damned dogmas

But Kings and Conductors still summon me
For they heard my name
Nightly, I tell them
You’ve known no such power
And masterpiece
Such God-Speed
As me

So this suitcase sits at my bedside
Packed
With ink-pen and parchment
Pinafores and peace
Decreeing
Whistling
Ready

In Our Fifties

Our chartreuse-colored love

The ugly chair now, that we don’t wish to sit in or admit brought comfort, respite

Nor will we throw it away

We mourn it in the kitchen like a death
Seemingly forever, while surrounded with casseroles of comfort food brought to us by well-meaning “friends”

We watch it as an epic film of someone else’s life
Sitting in the dark, screaming at the screen, warning of their err, fall from grace, then trauma

We escape it with our wanderlust-filled travels near and far
Photographing nature, plus wild wildlife who in-turn, chase us as we sleep, pseudo-nightmares that wake us at 3am

We do this
You, there, and me, here

Silk and brocade-covered hardwood frames we were and we are
Camaraderie and adventure that was to have brought us peace
Closure to the aching

What color was it initially, before the fade, we ask ourselves over and over

What we know for certain — it was an heirloom love

Before the spit up and sweaty workaday clothes soiled it
Before the pained animals in us tore it to shreds
Before our childhood loneliness, unresolved, relegated us to our corners in our fifties — upper lips bloodied, both of us

Walking attachment disorders, detached by default, from each other
All in one, single day

Eventually, we go to the curb with this shredded chartreuse thing

Pack up and move far away

Looking from the rear-view mirror at what was, we draw others’ ire as we drive too-slow down that road

It is always dusty Summer in our hearts’ mind’s eye

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Some gravitational pull
Or easterly mysticism
Compelled my travels

I had to go to Planet X today

What promised to be a meditative thing
Instead left me

I, now with mere baubles and defunct space junk

Re-entry burned me
The landing gave me new perspective
The Earth is indeed flat
Love is always light-years away

There’s no cadence to this

High Point

I swear the squirrel
Said make no sound
And followed her own advice

Having the choice
Of shade or sun
Opted for lowly and nice

Still she travelled
Efficiently
And got where she hoped to be

I own peanuts
I’ll share with her
Since she shares wisdom with me

Jennifer’s Smile

To every her I want to ask
What potion possess you?
What sensibility secures?
How is it when you close your eyes
You sink and smile and sleep
And when you travel two
To foreign lands
How is it you're at Home
Would you have a talk with me
To set my path straight-way
That I would know what you do right
And I did wrong each day

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You must travel
Travel you must

To the farthest recesses 
Of courage
To find
A You of your very own 
Linger there then
Decide
When will I stay long enough
Here
For there’s More Of Me I must meet