Just as a violin with a slight turn of a bow, can make a note change from sad to happy. Or the same note can be happy and sad at the same time, so is life.

The weather flips from pouring rain to green, dry grass. Hope renews. A glimpse of partial rainbow in a cloud. Then I remember my neck craning to see the clouds, with my face against the wind in a speeding boat. A time when I had no stress or worry.

A snapshot of true freedom in my mind. No one can take away those fluffy clouds on blue, no matter how dark the tunnel. I can live that way again.

I will live that way again.

Young thistle on the interstate shoulder,

Flexible to bend with the wind of the semis.

Tough place to grow, after a childhood as a seed on the wind.

A twisted road gator, shredded and strewn by truckers.

Even they couldn’t take her very far.

So she had to go it alone, and no phone.

A risk to be sure.

But the mountains would be near.

“Clear”

Did I make myself clear?

Through the fog of self doubt?

Rise up from the linoleum

And the bodies imposed upon my own?

Did I make myself clear?

Staring through the corrective lens

Above the slander in court.

Clarity of my pain shows on my face.

Misconstrued.

Can I make myself clear?

Or rather, clear my name?

They did not leave a mark on me.

But I am clear.

About who I am.

And who I will be.

“Rube Goldberg”

Rube and rape

Welcome to the third floor

A thirty year gap

Then an evil hand slap

Start the dominos again

Gold in a bathtub

Mac to disappear

A starving cry for belief

In a desert of reason

In the absence of air

Berg fraction above water

Then you, the one who pushed the first

Puts it upright

But the dominos already collapsed

Into irreparable ruins