I could have kissed you
under cherry blossoms,
pale petals drifting down
like the trees wanted to
pretend they could be
snowclouds.
I could have kissed you
in the rain, drenched to
our bones and not even
caring that the skies
opened up above us
and tried to wash us out.
I could have kissed you
in a clearing in the most
secluded woods, with
just the sound of wind
rustling through the leaves
and a few voyeuristic
finches peeping at us.
Instead, I kissed you
in the parking lot of a
Waffle House, just shy
of 2 a.m. in the middle
of a hectic week, with
our waitress grinning
at us from the other
side of the window,
because, honestly,
how could I not?
This poem © Gabriel Gadfly. Published May 11, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
First Flash
My head had started to hurt again, "Now where would I keep the aspirin," I wondered out loud to myself as I rubbed at my temples ineffectually with my fingers. "For that matter, do I often talk to myself out loud?"
I stood up from where I had been sitting on a comfortable armchair and walked softly down the short hallway. Several rooms branched off and I glanced in them as I walked past. A Study with beautiful bookcases and a large desk. I wold investigate that later I decided. I also passed what looked like a guest room, and then a small bathroom. The last door in the hall turned out to be the master bedroom. It was a neat room, as was the rest of the house. The large bed was covered in a blue comforter and looked soft enough, there was another bookcase, but it appeared to be filled with nic-nacs. I stepped closer to the bookcase and examined a few of the objects, handling each with care before replacing them exactly as I had found them.
Stepping through a door into the bathroom I opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. "I guess it was where I would keep it," I muttered to myself. I filled a glass with water from the sink and washed down the pills.
Hoping that the pills would soon take effect I sat on the edge of the bed and took a closer look around the room. There were a few pictures hung on the walls, and one on the nightstand beside the bed. I picked up the framed photo and examined it closely. It was me. And there was another man that looked very similar. Not old, so it couldn't be my father, but a brother. What's his name I wondered.
I carefully removed the picture from the frame and flipped it over.
To Shane,
The best big brother a guy could ever have asked for.
Love, Adam
"Adam Briarwood. I have a younger brother," I said and smiled despite the fact that I didn't recognize him. I stared hard at the picture and then closed my eyes, willing my mind to see Adam in another setting, something that might trigger a memory.
My mind flashed upon a brief scene, almost painful in it's brightness. I could see Adam walking up a small hill and laughing, he turned to me, opening his mouth to say something when the scene was gone again.
My head was pounding worse than before, but I closed my eyes again, willing the image to return. I don't know how long I stared at the black of the inside of my eyelids, but I was startled when the doorbell rang.
I quickly replaced the picture in the frame and put it back on the night table before swiftly yet silently moving down the hall and to the front door. The bell rang again just as I got there.
I looked through the peep hole and I could see a pretty woman standing on the other side of the door. She had dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that almost seemed ringed in white. She reached out and knocked on the solid wood, "Shane," she called out.
I stepped back from the door and flipped open the lock before pulling the door open.
"Oh Shane!" She woman cried and stepped into the entryway, "I can hardly believe what's happened."
I stepped back from her almost reflexively, putting a little more distance between us. She frowned at this, but didn't say anything about it. However, she did fire questions at me quicker than I could have possibly answered them.
"Wait, wait," I finally said, holding up my hand to stop her talking. "What's your name?" I asked.
She blinked at me in shock, "Shane," she breathed, "when you said that you had amnesia, I didn't think that you meant you had lost everything." Tears had gathered in her eyes.
"Never the less," I said, trying to ignore the guilty feeling for causing her tears, "I don't remember. I don't remember anything. Not me, not you, not this house or anything else. I have messages and messages, all from people who's voices I don't recognize. I have mail and bills from places that I don't remember buying from. I don't know what my favorite color is. I don't know if I'm married, what my job is, or if I like dogs." I was frustrated, and truth be told, a little scared. I took a deep breath after I finished my little rant.
The woman looked at me. "My name is Anna," she said calmly "your favorite color is blue, you're not married, but you were engaged once a long time ago. You work for the government and you like dogs well enough, but you love horses."
"Then Anna, you are?" I asked, leaving it hanging.
"Your sister," she said. "Our brother's name is Adam, who is a few years younger than you, and I am the youngest. Our parents live in Colorado."
I sighed, partially in relief, but also in frustration. There was no way to confirm that anything that she had said was true. It was true that my brother was Adam, but what of the rest of it? Did I really work for the government? And if I did, what part?
I rubbed my eyes, trying to will the world to make sense again.
"If it will help," Anna said and touched my sleeve," you always kept a journal. Ever since we were young. If we can find that it might help you remember things."
I nodded, feeling a large weight lifting from my chest. "Where might I have kept it?" I asked.
I stood up from where I had been sitting on a comfortable armchair and walked softly down the short hallway. Several rooms branched off and I glanced in them as I walked past. A Study with beautiful bookcases and a large desk. I wold investigate that later I decided. I also passed what looked like a guest room, and then a small bathroom. The last door in the hall turned out to be the master bedroom. It was a neat room, as was the rest of the house. The large bed was covered in a blue comforter and looked soft enough, there was another bookcase, but it appeared to be filled with nic-nacs. I stepped closer to the bookcase and examined a few of the objects, handling each with care before replacing them exactly as I had found them.
Stepping through a door into the bathroom I opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. "I guess it was where I would keep it," I muttered to myself. I filled a glass with water from the sink and washed down the pills.
Hoping that the pills would soon take effect I sat on the edge of the bed and took a closer look around the room. There were a few pictures hung on the walls, and one on the nightstand beside the bed. I picked up the framed photo and examined it closely. It was me. And there was another man that looked very similar. Not old, so it couldn't be my father, but a brother. What's his name I wondered.
I carefully removed the picture from the frame and flipped it over.
To Shane,
The best big brother a guy could ever have asked for.
Love, Adam
"Adam Briarwood. I have a younger brother," I said and smiled despite the fact that I didn't recognize him. I stared hard at the picture and then closed my eyes, willing my mind to see Adam in another setting, something that might trigger a memory.
My mind flashed upon a brief scene, almost painful in it's brightness. I could see Adam walking up a small hill and laughing, he turned to me, opening his mouth to say something when the scene was gone again.
My head was pounding worse than before, but I closed my eyes again, willing the image to return. I don't know how long I stared at the black of the inside of my eyelids, but I was startled when the doorbell rang.
I quickly replaced the picture in the frame and put it back on the night table before swiftly yet silently moving down the hall and to the front door. The bell rang again just as I got there.
I looked through the peep hole and I could see a pretty woman standing on the other side of the door. She had dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that almost seemed ringed in white. She reached out and knocked on the solid wood, "Shane," she called out.
I stepped back from the door and flipped open the lock before pulling the door open.
"Oh Shane!" She woman cried and stepped into the entryway, "I can hardly believe what's happened."
I stepped back from her almost reflexively, putting a little more distance between us. She frowned at this, but didn't say anything about it. However, she did fire questions at me quicker than I could have possibly answered them.
"Wait, wait," I finally said, holding up my hand to stop her talking. "What's your name?" I asked.
She blinked at me in shock, "Shane," she breathed, "when you said that you had amnesia, I didn't think that you meant you had lost everything." Tears had gathered in her eyes.
"Never the less," I said, trying to ignore the guilty feeling for causing her tears, "I don't remember. I don't remember anything. Not me, not you, not this house or anything else. I have messages and messages, all from people who's voices I don't recognize. I have mail and bills from places that I don't remember buying from. I don't know what my favorite color is. I don't know if I'm married, what my job is, or if I like dogs." I was frustrated, and truth be told, a little scared. I took a deep breath after I finished my little rant.
The woman looked at me. "My name is Anna," she said calmly "your favorite color is blue, you're not married, but you were engaged once a long time ago. You work for the government and you like dogs well enough, but you love horses."
"Then Anna, you are?" I asked, leaving it hanging.
"Your sister," she said. "Our brother's name is Adam, who is a few years younger than you, and I am the youngest. Our parents live in Colorado."
I sighed, partially in relief, but also in frustration. There was no way to confirm that anything that she had said was true. It was true that my brother was Adam, but what of the rest of it? Did I really work for the government? And if I did, what part?
I rubbed my eyes, trying to will the world to make sense again.
"If it will help," Anna said and touched my sleeve," you always kept a journal. Ever since we were young. If we can find that it might help you remember things."
I nodded, feeling a large weight lifting from my chest. "Where might I have kept it?" I asked.
Seeing
You don't see me.
You see what you want to see.
I can't see it like you.
I see me......
all of me.
I see what others don't
You see what you want to see.
I can't see it like you.
I see me......
all of me.
I see what others don't
Nighttime
Shifting shadows in the wind,
Twist and slide. Moving and not.
Moonlight pooling on blades of grass,
Glowing tides on shifting seas of green,
All among the dark.
Dancing like waves upon the bay,
Bordered by the trees.
Crashing surf against the rocky edge,
And moisture on the breeze.
Every rustling leaf, every creak of every branch,
Every single silent sound,
Adds to natures harmonic melody.
Strains of that music drift upon the midnight gusts,
Whispering softly, luring me deeper into the night.
And as I gaze up at endless stars,
The nighttime lullaby beckons me to peaceful sleep,
Wrapped in that gentle calming dark.
And in that sleep I drift to the moon
And out beyond the stars.
And I carry with me my nighttime,
The music, and the shadows of the night.
(written with Adam Floyd Edwards)
Twist and slide. Moving and not.
Moonlight pooling on blades of grass,
Glowing tides on shifting seas of green,
All among the dark.
Dancing like waves upon the bay,
Bordered by the trees.
Crashing surf against the rocky edge,
And moisture on the breeze.
Every rustling leaf, every creak of every branch,
Every single silent sound,
Adds to natures harmonic melody.
Strains of that music drift upon the midnight gusts,
Whispering softly, luring me deeper into the night.
And as I gaze up at endless stars,
The nighttime lullaby beckons me to peaceful sleep,
Wrapped in that gentle calming dark.
And in that sleep I drift to the moon
And out beyond the stars.
And I carry with me my nighttime,
The music, and the shadows of the night.
(written with Adam Floyd Edwards)
Monday, August 1, 2011
Dear World - By Adam Floyd Edwards
Dear World,
You don't know my blackest day, and you don't know the terror of my nights.
Don't pass your judgments and dole your advice. Cease your drowning, mocking calls, and your stony piercing silent stares.
Why the countless voices, the stabbing, creeping words? Why the darkness, cold and numbing? Why this endless screaming void? Why these rampant powers, ever changing?
All these seas of gleaming faces, why then, all these empty spaces? With so many near, why am I yet still alone?
Be silent World, with your constant nagging, I don't want to listen anymore.
-Me
You don't know my blackest day, and you don't know the terror of my nights.
Don't pass your judgments and dole your advice. Cease your drowning, mocking calls, and your stony piercing silent stares.
Why the countless voices, the stabbing, creeping words? Why the darkness, cold and numbing? Why this endless screaming void? Why these rampant powers, ever changing?
All these seas of gleaming faces, why then, all these empty spaces? With so many near, why am I yet still alone?
Be silent World, with your constant nagging, I don't want to listen anymore.
-Me
Dear World
Dear world,
Don't you dare judge me.
You haven't walked in my shoes, seen through my eyes, or felt with my heart.
Don't stand there and tell me that I'm not pretty enough, smart enough or brave enough.
Don't stand there and tell me that my opinion doesn't count.Don't tell me that I don't know what it is to hurt, or to love, or what loss is. Don't look at me and value me as nothing because I don't fit the mold.
Don't hate me because I choose my own path or think that I'm a sheep because I believe in a god that loves me and a brother who died to redeem my soul.
Don't say that I don't know what I want, of that I don't understand or that I'm not listening simply because I don't agree with you.
And when I come home dirty at the end of the day, it's because I have worked hard to provide for my family
And when all I want to do is sing at the top of my lungs, it's because I want to forget about my problems for awhile.
And when I dance down the hall, it's because I enjoy it and I don't care what you think.
And sometimes when I cry at night in my bed, it's because I just need to let it all out or I might explode.
And sometimes when I give you a hug, it's because I have nothing more that I am capable of giving. And when I smile at you, it's because I want you to smile too.
Don't judge me world because I am who I am.
Sincerely,
Me
Don't you dare judge me.
You haven't walked in my shoes, seen through my eyes, or felt with my heart.
Don't stand there and tell me that I'm not pretty enough, smart enough or brave enough.
Don't stand there and tell me that my opinion doesn't count.Don't tell me that I don't know what it is to hurt, or to love, or what loss is. Don't look at me and value me as nothing because I don't fit the mold.
Don't hate me because I choose my own path or think that I'm a sheep because I believe in a god that loves me and a brother who died to redeem my soul.
Don't say that I don't know what I want, of that I don't understand or that I'm not listening simply because I don't agree with you.
And when I come home dirty at the end of the day, it's because I have worked hard to provide for my family
And when all I want to do is sing at the top of my lungs, it's because I want to forget about my problems for awhile.
And when I dance down the hall, it's because I enjoy it and I don't care what you think.
And sometimes when I cry at night in my bed, it's because I just need to let it all out or I might explode.
And sometimes when I give you a hug, it's because I have nothing more that I am capable of giving. And when I smile at you, it's because I want you to smile too.
Don't judge me world because I am who I am.
Sincerely,
Me
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Shane Revisited.
A small neat house stood before me on a quite street where the cab driver had deposited me a few moments ago. There were a few bushes along the path that bordered a small lawn and lead to the front door.
The small set of keys felt oddly heavy as I walked the short distance to the front door. I took a deep breath and slid one of the small brass keys into the lock, though I hesitated to turn it. This was the address that was on the licence that they had given me, and looking into the mirror of the tiny hospital bathroom, I could at least tell that it was my own face that was smiling out of the ID card. They had kept me in the hospital a few more days after I had woken up; partly to make sure that I was alright and partly to see if I would regain my memories. Finally though they had released me.
A small click sounded as the key turned smoothly in the lock and I pushed the door open. The interior was dim in the late afternoon light, dust motes stirring in the air as I passed by a window.
The inside of the house was as neat as the outside had suggested, nothing seemed to be out of place. I laughed as this thought crossed my mind. How would I know if anything was out of place, I didn't recognize anything at all. I could have been in anyone's home.
A flashing red light on the phone caught my attention.
Beep... A man's voice came from the recorder, "hey Shane, it's me. You up for a pick-up game tonight? Give me a call."
Beep... A sultry woman's voice came next, "Shane, don't forget that you promised to go to that party with me."
Beep... "Shane. Man, where are you?"
Beep... "Shane, I'm getting worried, and so is Mom."
Beep... "Shane, did you forget to tell us you were going out of town or something?"
Beep... "Mr. Briarwood. This is a reminder..."
Beep... "Shane."
Beep... "Shane."
Beep... "Mr. Briarwood."
My hand hit the delete button, stilling the flood of voices. I could feel a headache coming on. I walked down the hall to the kitchen and opened the fridge, realizing that my stomach was growling. It felt awkward though, as if I was reaching into someone else's fridge without permission, without them even knowing that I was here.
I shook my head and pulled out a few things. It would take a while before it felt normal to be here.
I was just cleaning up when the phone rang, causing me to jump. I only hesitated a moment before picking it up. It could be someone that I knew, someone that could help me remember. Someone that could tell me who I was.
"Hello?" I said.
"Shane!" came the relieved voice over the phone, a woman's voice, "I've been so worried about you. Where have you been? Are you alright?"
I didn't recognize the voice. "I'm not sure if I'm alright," I said.
"What do you mean you don't know if you are alright?" she asked.
I sighed and quickly explained what had happened. "So you see," I concluded, "I don't even recognize your voice. I don't know who you are."
There was silence on the other end of the line. "Hello?" I asked.
"Shane," she breathed in shock, "I'm coming right over," she said, "don't go anywhere. I'll be there in half an hour."
"Alright," I said and hung up the phone.
"Hopefully in half an hour I'll start to have some questions answered," I said to myself.
The small set of keys felt oddly heavy as I walked the short distance to the front door. I took a deep breath and slid one of the small brass keys into the lock, though I hesitated to turn it. This was the address that was on the licence that they had given me, and looking into the mirror of the tiny hospital bathroom, I could at least tell that it was my own face that was smiling out of the ID card. They had kept me in the hospital a few more days after I had woken up; partly to make sure that I was alright and partly to see if I would regain my memories. Finally though they had released me.
A small click sounded as the key turned smoothly in the lock and I pushed the door open. The interior was dim in the late afternoon light, dust motes stirring in the air as I passed by a window.
The inside of the house was as neat as the outside had suggested, nothing seemed to be out of place. I laughed as this thought crossed my mind. How would I know if anything was out of place, I didn't recognize anything at all. I could have been in anyone's home.
A flashing red light on the phone caught my attention.
Beep... A man's voice came from the recorder, "hey Shane, it's me. You up for a pick-up game tonight? Give me a call."
Beep... A sultry woman's voice came next, "Shane, don't forget that you promised to go to that party with me."
Beep... "Shane. Man, where are you?"
Beep... "Shane, I'm getting worried, and so is Mom."
Beep... "Shane, did you forget to tell us you were going out of town or something?"
Beep... "Mr. Briarwood. This is a reminder..."
Beep... "Shane."
Beep... "Shane."
Beep... "Mr. Briarwood."
My hand hit the delete button, stilling the flood of voices. I could feel a headache coming on. I walked down the hall to the kitchen and opened the fridge, realizing that my stomach was growling. It felt awkward though, as if I was reaching into someone else's fridge without permission, without them even knowing that I was here.
I shook my head and pulled out a few things. It would take a while before it felt normal to be here.
I was just cleaning up when the phone rang, causing me to jump. I only hesitated a moment before picking it up. It could be someone that I knew, someone that could help me remember. Someone that could tell me who I was.
"Hello?" I said.
"Shane!" came the relieved voice over the phone, a woman's voice, "I've been so worried about you. Where have you been? Are you alright?"
I didn't recognize the voice. "I'm not sure if I'm alright," I said.
"What do you mean you don't know if you are alright?" she asked.
I sighed and quickly explained what had happened. "So you see," I concluded, "I don't even recognize your voice. I don't know who you are."
There was silence on the other end of the line. "Hello?" I asked.
"Shane," she breathed in shock, "I'm coming right over," she said, "don't go anywhere. I'll be there in half an hour."
"Alright," I said and hung up the phone.
"Hopefully in half an hour I'll start to have some questions answered," I said to myself.
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