No One Can Harm us, unless we give permission…agreeing to take something personally

Lunch Lightly                                                     by Heidi Robertson 7/27/2013

Image

The cafe’ is aflight

a tighter fit at night.

Makes room for wings and waddlings among the lunch noise.

Noise

some kinds fall more like driving nails.

Make land

Rain hard upon soft sand

Tip sounder ships like bathtub toys

Does not discriminate.

Christening guilty recollections

Comes loudly in the darkness

Dispells light and never takes off quietly

While I grow too accustomed to saluting falling feathers

Amplifying needless negativity

Renders me more Deaf among those signing

Become dumb

In finding failure to make and keep firm boundaries

in “I’ll be fine. Let’s dine”

Flicking foam earplugs,

Like dried unused mallows

tossed and chewed by curiuous comorants.

Await new table settings.

Hearing

Broken Skullcandy

the membrane punctured

Small and swollen.

Still brand new, as early as baby steps,

and skipping ruby slippered five-year-olds climbing giant bus steps

A few slip through

til college or a time of life defining

Piercings

“Protect your soul,” I heard my inner child say

first week of summer term

in being in a new and scary place

A year later in La Raza interim

The summer of my first and only Chirstian Rock Concert

Night of the first encounter

Pretending in the end

I fully knew what I was getting into,

When a roommate from Alaska turned up decipals

And wielding pliers and ice cubes

Pierced my earlobes.

Injecting fear she sterilized an old used needle

Last thing I remember…refiners fire

She asked “One hole or two?”

Next thing I knew, someone was asking, “What’s your name?”

and taking vital signs.

Where just beyond green curtains was an xray and

I didn’t need credentials to see and read

“Beer bottle up his rectum.”

I woke up woozy and wondering what I’d gotten into,

and if I’d missed the point.

Passed out chasing cool at college

Woke a windblown umberella bird

Wish I’d fished and passed on being chum for the professor.

To catching and realeasing beautiful bird earrings in a flightmare

Comorants Mediterranean bound, fishing in Sicilian waters,

Surfacing like glutoneous sea giants, boasting wing spans,

Roosting 24 carrat gold studs that tarnish green

Infectious within a years time…

boarded a train, a fresh young girl

Came back a branded woman

Who knew sin would end in blight and splatter on the windshield

When love was so exquisite

Obscuring vision for years

‘Til at the pond, other piercing tales are heard and shared

and secrets found

Out again, discover I am not alone.

My friend shares three stories.

The best does not involve the lower lobe

Instead an upper flanging conquest.

“I got this one when I was a little girl, “ she said.

“The second, as a teen at Tanger.”

“And finally, the crowning jewel, when I got divorced.”

No anger or remorse in separation shown, adorning confirmation.

“It was by far the worst pain of my life,” pointing to a diamond.

“Worse than all the others ?”

“All night Nytol and No relief.  Grief in no sleep.

And Tylenol and pillows couldn’t make things better.

‘Cuz on the phone hurt most of all.

Reduced to “Don’t call.”

Zone out while waiting for the only shower,

And almost listening well

Visualize collateral for keeping beautiful.

Removing hoops for pearls and diamonds,

and half way through the telling pretend my friend

is holding an archaic brick-size 1990s cell phone

Permanently fixed to her head.

Sad too, she’s in a dead zone, and the sucker’s heavy.

So when I finally hear, I wonder what she means.

“Worse pain divorce? or worse pain  piercing?”

I love hearing  word harvest and seeing metaphors.

Explore, discover whatever caused the pain that kept her up nights…

Caused her to give up landlines

Going deaf and legless

Myspacing “Celebate and future slimline smarter phones…”

Erasing and letting  calls go straight to voice mail

No message making later listening futile

Furiously racing redial to find the number.

And yet she had her right of passage and found a brighter place

here at the pond and just a piece past Ivy Leaf Lady down on Main Street.

Came through it mooing,

cow jumped over the moon and satisfied

With Chic- Fillet cows.

I feel myself shoved to the rear

Sometimes a fear factor champion screw up

Advised I should be gentler with myself

Remembering I have super powers

At least it’s not a mug rug, or a coaster

Inserted in my lip or ear, delicious smiling mouth

My friend, naïve to metaphors she’s sporting in her ear

gifts, commissions me to write about the pain

And doesn’t even know it.

And so I had my right of passage after all

a welcome to adulthood if you will

a kinder kind of sex in making earlobes fashionable

Not on a gravelly Mexican hotel rooftop

In one of many foreign hostile dorm rooms

and beds where my legs weren’t intensely dropped

And he wasn’t bearing down on top….

while trying to keep appearances of love

in gently stroking face and hair, still grooming,

All the while deeply kissing, locking eyes, and legs

And sticking me

as if reaching way up high in pedaling Caps For Sale

like stadium concessions,

pacing and retracing back and forth sales routes

Until I’d given currency and left separately.

Left me

grieving in the rewrite where the characters are different

and no one has a mustache…he’s clean shaven,

and doesn’t make the sale

and I’m in heaven, not in Hell

fearing disownment

I’m dreaming,

even as my friend’s not seen the metaphor

before this optical delusion

and scary stained panties I swore would stay forever clean inside my dresser drawer

the special abstinent pair,

all white and lacey

Temple ware.

Some things in life are piercing.

I choose to think on other celebrated life events

that don’t involve stud-ies and laptops

Push to mute

Next time I go out clubbing I’ill wear my clip-ons

Slip-ons

Slide down a Sprite

Resign to munching saltine crackers

In easy conversation

No longer crumbling the past

Knowing I can wait a few more minutes

When I’m with you

There is no waiting

for promises of deep green salads

I’ll have cool and crisp and sweet between my teeth

with no more piercings except for pickled beets

to make me stronger, to build hematocrit

This time we’ll leave all our hims

out of it

lunching more lightly.

 

 

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About hrobertson2013

“Each man ( and mermaid) will be like a shelter from the wind and a refuge from the storm, like streams of water in the desert and the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land”. Isa 32:2 NIV Warning: The author of this blog is not an ordinary individual. Even Mermaids need a rest from all that's real and grown up. Welcome to the wonder of blog. Come be audience to all that's wet and wild in her stories, poems and thoughts. Instructor by day, super hero by night, and mystical mermaid by summer. Whenever she has the fortune of diving into a pond, reservoir, or mountain waterfall, you'll find her there swimming, and singing songs of life.
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2 Responses to No One Can Harm us, unless we give permission…agreeing to take something personally

  1. J T Weaver says:

    Whew! No, no, I’m fine, thanks. 🙂

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