Tag Archives: red

Red is for Christmas

(for James and Lois)

Red is for Christmas and saturated Polaroid pictures
And for clothes we couldn’t wear today without being ironic

Red is for sisters in skirts that show their dimpled knees
And for brothers who look like miniature versions of fathers

Red is for memoires of toys long gone – but dreams still close
And for love – that great provider when comfort is needed

Red is for Christmas and for pictures and for family and for love

The Maniac Stoplight

I can see my life go flashing past me
Like a maniac stop light
Green to red at amazing speed
Red back to green
Faster – faster – faster
When I want to go
I am forced to stop
When I get comfortable stopped
Something forces me to go
Wondering who has control over that light
Wondering if it can be repaired
Or will I be stuck at this intersection
Not knowing what to do
Not going when I see green
Or maybe hitting the gas
When I see red

Her Coat Was Red

I don’t think I have ever seen anyone like her. She stopped me like a 67 rusty blue Impala at 45 miles per hour across a deserted parking lot at dusk. My bag fell from my shoulder as I slumped back into the chair. I grabbed my wilting paper coffee cup just to have something to hold onto.

Her smile was unlike any expression I have ever seen on a human being before. Her eyes were kinder to me than that old fat nun when I was a nine-year-old pudge-pot getting kicked around by the sixth-graders.

Her mouth moved with gentle grace when she spoke. When I got past my fear and actually let her speak. I was afraid if I stopped talking, she would vanish in the night like the name to that obscure song that you can’t quite reach, but you can’t let go of either.

Her hair fall across her shoulders encouraging me to relax and enjoy the coffee and the conversation. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her and I couldn’t look to long. My tired head spun like a used Maytag on dirty towel day. The safest place to focus was the papers in shaking hands.

Her coat was red.

Her Coat Was Red

I don’t think I have ever seen anyone like her. She stopped me like a 67 rusty blue Impala at 45 miles per hour across a deserted parking lot at dusk. My bag fell from my shoulder as I slumped back into the chair. I grabbed my wilting paper coffee cup just to have something to hold onto.

Her smile was unlike any expression I have ever seen on a human being before. Her eyes were kinder to me than that old fat nun when I was a nine-year-old pudge-pot getting kicked around by the sixth-graders.

Her mouth moved with gentle grace when she spoke. When I got past my fear and actually let her speak. I was afraid if I stopped talking, she would vanish in the night like the name to that obscure song that you can’t quite reach, but you can’t let go of either.

Her hair fall across her shoulders encouraging me to relax and enjoy the coffee and the conversation. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her and I couldn’t look to long. My tired head spun like a used Maytag on dirty towel day. The safest place to focus was the papers in shaking hands.

Her coat was red.