Riding up the clock tower in an elevator at noon
out of all the tourists
he turns to the little girl
who is not allowed to suck her thumb
but who would if she could manage it without a slap,
“Would you like to see the bells up close?”
“No.” she shakes her head and buries her face in her mother’s dress,
and he opens the brass gate on the elevator that has stopped next to the enormous bells
that are swinging and chiming out
the soft little hairs on the smooth face of the little girl lie flat and
water in her tear ducts is forced out
while the bells swing threateningly close to the elevator.
Everyone is speechless.
As they resume their assent up to the observation deck
everyone is laughing and some are telling her
she is a very lucky girl to have such an opportunity and yet
that is what it feels like
every time a stranger speaks to her.
I actually know Buttons. He is the mostly black cat painted here. He lived at my house for a while. He was a bit insecure at first. Diva seemed determined to keep him “below stairs” which was funny because he looks like a butler.
He is now residing with two lovely humans and a menagerie of creatures which include Jazz, the mostly white cat. He has grown into his uniform. He is now the concierge.
It is a gift for one of his humans. I got a migraine from the weird barometric flux going on in this part of the world so it was painted with one eye closed. I don’t know how successful this painting is so tell me what you think.
It Wasn’t How it Looked
When it wasn’t you,
everything was wonderbread,
and t.v. laugh-tracks
Leading to your door,
the long and winding road
had no copyright.
I posted the one for the first over at LiveJournal in the_quills community (Duh, I didn’t know you were doing it here too!)
This is the first one:
“Butter and pepper…”
Dog brained and salivating
woven though the days,
plucked from this and that,
once annoyed me,
now I worry that they will disappear completely.
that is not your voice.
small but persistent, no longer about you.
nothing to see
and no one looking back at me…
The wind once lifted the strands of cat hair and carried them like wishes.
Now it only blows.