Me: I swear I don’t always spend hours talking about nothing but politics and religion. Next time, tell me about Paris.

Old friend: I’d rather show you Paris. But, sure, Ok, I’ll tell you. How much time do you have?

************

How do you answer the question, “How much time do you have?”

… when you are afraid that by answering it, you will destroy the unexpected and possibly unintended magic of the moment?

How much time?

A lifetime.

I’m starting over soon. Time, from that point on, is hopefully all I will have or want.

Just over a year to go.

Time, time
Time, see what’s become of me
While I looked around for my possibilities

I was so hard to please
Look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Hear the Salvation Army band
Down by the riverside’s
Bound to be a better ride
Than what you’ve got planned

Carry your cup in your hand
And look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Hang on to your hopes, my friend
That’s an easy thing to say
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend that you can build them again

Look around
The grass is high
The fields are ripe
It’s the spring time of my life

Seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won’t you stop and remember me
At any convenient time?

Funny how my memory skips
Looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme

Drinking my vodka and lime
I look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

We all have chapters, in our lives, we don’t want published.

Be reminded though that it’s those chapters which make the book worth reading.

The horizon still whispers my name. Unceasingly. Like a lover unwilling to forget nor walk away. Soft ethereal caresses, reminding me of what is waiting…

Soon. I’m waiting out there. The real me. The complete me. Conquering oceans, skies, dreams and passions.

It’s so close now I can taste it.

Only in the south….

******************************

And yes. This is real.

http://knoxville.craigslist.org/wan/2711703670.html

truth is, ur my mum

• • 

    Hannah Pearl
    Truth is, she’s an alien, and you were adopted.

  • 

    Marie
    

    I’ll never tell.

    But you’d probably think my home planet was completely rad if I were.

    It’d be like some combination of Ocracoke, Asheville and Portland, OR… but all on coasts like the ones in Maine and there’d be waterfalls around every other corner. The rivers and creeks would all run the clearest aqua blue. There would be no cars and everyone would have electric bicycles… or walk… or canoe everywhere they needed to go. No one would live in mansions on hills where they thought looking ‘down’ at all the little peoples made them better somehow… and living in a tent by a waterfall under the stars as much as you pleased would be uber cool. Oh… and all the peoples would be geeky and artsy and open minded… and we’d stop for tea parties and snuggly naps every day at noon.

One friend asks: “I am tired of life handing out the bad stuff! Is the good stuff bag empty so much?”

I am not a VICTIM of circumstance.

I am in a situation of circumstance.

Even now I refuse to be a VICTIM… of anything. Much less the wonderfully amazing dichotomy that is my life.

-Me