Thursday 25 January 2018

Patchwork Girl (January 28, 2008) Part 3 of 4

An angry feminine voice
Jars me
Back to the present.


My eyes
Bleary from crying
Realizing
It was your mom.


Hastily
Wiping my eyes dry
Turn to face her.


Knew
She was talking
But didn't understand
Her.


Slowly
Her words penetrated
My mental fog.


Judging
From her voice's pitch
She has been yelling at me
For a while.


"James Robert McLeod!"

Wincing
As I heard
My birth name.


"What the fuck
Do you think
You are doing here?"


Her angry words
Washed over me
Like fast moving
White water through rapids
Scouring my soul.


Slowly
The attack petered out
Producing an angry red mask
Upon your mom's face
Impossible to reason with.


Dimly
I heard
"Get the fucking hell
Out of my house!!!"


Coat and boots
In hand
Am left wondering
Where did I
Go wrong?

Quietly
I stepped out
As a cold December
Wind and rain
Greets me.


Shivering
Under the porch
From anger and the weather
Hoping to reach you
My love.


Defender
Of my Light
In this land of darkness.


Figures
The porch is a dead zone
Either wait and hope
You are early.


Or
Stand out
In the rain
And make the call.


Stepping out
Damn it
Wish I had brought
My umbrella.


No point
Crying over spilt milk
Rain dripping down my back
Sending icy shivers
Throughout my body
Darkening my foul mood.


Two steps away
Cell phone starts to ring.

Quick glance
Showed your number
My saviour.


In a single breathe:


"HiJanice
Imstandingoutside
Waitingforyou
Itwasadisaster."


Rich sound
Of your voice
Greets my words
Comforting me
Like a warm blanket
On a cold night.


Next breathe
I hear you say
Five more minutes
Brightening my mood.


Only
Five more minutes
Repeated over and over
To myself.


Longest five minutes
In my life
Never liked waiting
Even as a child
Pacing back and forth.


Constantly
Looking at the cell phone
Willing it
To move faster.


Remembering a line
From an old Love and Rocket's song
"And the minutes dragged..."
Forgetting the rest of the song.

So frustrated
It loops around
In my mind.


Hurry up
Janice.


Falling
Into the kid's game
Asking myself
"Is it time yet"
Driving myself batty
Stopping to look
For your approaching car.


Seriously
Thought of phoning you
When your car appeared
Two blocks away
Lifting my dark mood.


How
I wish you were
Standing beside me
Leaving this bad Karma behind
Moving forward.


Wish
I had a camera
To show you
Your Mona Lisa smile
Which you deny having
Smile of a sweet mystery.


Only if
I could give back it
To you
Janice.

Therisa © 2008

Author's note: The third of four part, of a poem taken from my poetic morgue.

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