Monkey Mind
They say monkeys eat bananas
But not mine, no.
The morning sun creeps into
an early shadow in the west corner
exactly when Mindy
picks a greasy bug from her butt,
smells it,
and puts it in her mouth.
Eeeeeeeeeeeew,
I know.
But so natural and yummy to her.
When the afternoon sun beats down
upon the top of her bald head at noon,
the sweat trickles down her armpits
like any other day.
She scratches there
to find two greasy bugs,
an afternoon snack worth mentioning
when bananas can't be found.
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A little later, Mama Monkey, her cell partner,
finds a whole meal on Mindy's back,
while they share late afternoon snacks
'neath the pseudo-tropical rainforest
as magnified, walking, hairless monkeys
mumble incessantly and
stare through that clear barrier that
Mindy knows she can't get through,
enough to make anyone want to pick her butt.
Mindy just scratches her head
grabs the end rung on the jungle gym
and turns around and around
still no banana to be found.
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Melancholy Green
The ocean is melancholy green today
and the yellow, down-feather dunes blow over there
where we sat once on a rust-colored log and
looked out at the landscape of the rest of our lives.
I talk to you now as if you were walking beside me,
as I pick up an orange rock I know you would love
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and put it in my pocket,
thinking that one day I will give it to you
after the pain of our unrealized dreams
fades far enough into yesterday.
Grey, slimy mud cakes onto the bottoms of my shoes,
as I scatter my chatter on the wings of the wind,
picking at your faults,
blaming my actions,
and asking both you and God, "Why?"
After my fuddled mind and dry mouth tire,
my translucent tears give release to a newfound sadness
and high tide floods me in all directions.
I watch the melancholy green turn grey
when I realize that I'm still here
in my body
even after you have left.
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When My Eyes Blinked
My head turned to the left
that second my eyes blinked
to catch the flutter of a butterfly's wings
as a glimmering flash
of the coming sun rise
danced on the shadow side of its wings,
the slow rise of my easy breath followed,
a wide golden column
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giving rise to a once tattered spirit
with resurrected wings,
a promise of true love echoed
on the tail of that morning's breeze,
and I knew, no matter the outside circumstances
or internal fears that were dying a slow death,
her love was the only thing I was sure of --
that second my eyes blinked.
(c) Copyright 2007, Loren Jenner, all rights reserved
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