I like having you all to myself.

Come to supper with me.

Then you will see me eat

Like a wild Russian boar hog.

Then I will see you watching me,

And then I will be able to tell

If you can put up with me very well or not,

And then, and then, and then!

-jenn

When I go to the grocery store with myself,

And I sometimes do,

I begin to put the groceries in the car

One sack at a time

And I challenge myself 

To get to the lightest sack first.

Then when I get home, it'll be

Who can carry in the least amount of groceries?

Me, myself, or I?

Come to think of it,

It's exactly the same way

When I go to the grocery store with my son!

Who CAN get to the lightest sack first??

-jenn

Let's make the sign of the cross 

Together, with our bodies.

Perpendicular pillars

That meet at the pivotal crux,

And in a holy state of flux,

Let's imagine swans that mate for life,

And form the constellation Cygnus 

With ourselves, and think of ducks

That swim together lovingly,

And geese that fly

In an ever virginal V across the sky.

And let's, you and I,

Receive the fullness of love

Into our minds and souls and hearts

And lives,

And our bodies.

And let's laugh together at life

And at all the things that try 

To make it die.

-jenn

There's nothing new under the sun they say,

But they're so cynical, too.

But me and you?

We're the first two

To ever fall in love.

I trip around on my feet all day

Like a butterfly in combat boots.

I'm trying to be like everybody else,

And finally say, "Oh! What's the use?"

I'll never be the Mona Lisa,

I haven't got an Einstein brain,

So I'll just have a piece of pizza

And think of how you kissed me on the train.

Someday we'll tell our kids the story

Of how we met and fell in love.

They'll find the story boring.

Who could believe that two old folks like us

Could've ever had any fun?

We'll quote all the love songs from the movies,

Barefoot in the park and singing in the rain,

Then I'll tell them how you kissed me on the train.

And then we'll see if they ask me

Which part of my body's called "the train?"

-jenn

We all think they broke the mold with us,

But some molds are unbreakable.

They might have tried to break them,

But the pattern is too ingrained and prevalent.

We keep melting,

But we keep pouring ourselves 

Into the same old forms.

I'm in a holding pattern,

Waiting to land.

I want to be like the fly

And wander about and light upon

Whatever, whenever I want to.

But if I do, people will say,

"Mistakes have been made!"

Catastrophe will be unavoidable.

So I've become greedy for larger airspace,

So I exert my will.

First I will take over the Air Force,

Next, the country, and then, the world.

Then I can be as good as the fly,

And maybe, almost as happy.

-jenn

I walk out of my abode

And into a blinding sun.

I'm not even awake,

But I go through the motions.

I've done this for years,

My sheer will 

Picking up my 117 pounds of flesh and bone.

I sling it across my heart like armor.

And go out to strive all day against

What seems to be a ten ton unknown.

But I see today it hasn't got me anything,

But stringier hair and muscles,

A shadow across my chin,

Chagrin.

And yet, the shadow quickens me!

It's him!

It's the shadow I've been wanting

To contend with all these days,

And secretly I have!

I see it from the marks I bare.

All those days I fought and sought a home,

And felt orphan, never finding one!

And all the while I belonged

To the shadow!

So will I now awake

After all these years

And fear the shadow?

Go about my life at night

Where there is no light to cast him

Bright and and clear,

But only shallow memories of him

That flit upon my wall?

Or will I now bare these bruises

Proudly so, marked by him?

For I am his,

And he is mine,

The shadow.

Should I find my true weight class,

My true fight and win,

I'll claim my prizes here, where I fit in,

In the Shadowlands

With my lovely shadow!

-jenn

Someone told me I should never wear red.

Someone else told me I should.

I had to try it on for myself

And see if I thought I looked good,

Or not. 

Someone's always telling me something.

What do you do when people tell you what to do?

-jenn

When it's dark in the country and dark in the house,

And your parents have told you to go to bed,

But you're fidgety, and all you want to do,

It's go out on the porch 

And look at the moon and the moonlight.

And so you tiptoe toward the door,

But something unexpected on the floor

Trips you up, and makes you go bump in the night,

And you scare your brothers, and your sis,

And hear a commotion because of this:

You were fidgety and just wanted to look at the moon and the moonlight.

But your parents footsteps down the hall

Turn your destiny, and you scurry

To fall back in bed, fall into pseudo-snoring.

You're lying there with your eyes closed tight.

What good acting they could see

If there was any light in the room,

But it's dark, and so they have to ask,

"Esthalee! Estha! Is that you?!"

And so you have to tell them,

"I can't hear you! I'm asleep!"

And your mother can't help but laugh,

And you sulk because you can't tell

If it's 'at you' or 'with you,'

And you wonder how they knew

It was you, out of the other five kids in the house?

And all you ever wanted to do

Was to look at the moon 

From the front porch that night,

To see the great moon and the moonlight.

-jenn

They wanted me to look

Like I had walked to Starbucks for my tea.

They wanted my face to be slightly red,

And to have beads of sweat formed on my forehead.

So someone went and got my tea for me,

While they sprayed me with warm water from bottles,

And gave my make-up an extra coat of blush.

And then a hush fell on the set,

And someone handed me my tea,

And it seemed someone had drunk

Half of it for me, as well!

And I said, "Sheesh!

Why don't I just walk to Starbucks for real,

And get myself a glass of tea,

And drink it for myself,

And then it will really look like

I walked to Starbucks 

To get myself some tea,

And then you can take a picture of that!"

But they said that would be too easy,

And called me hard to work with!

-jenn

We all have a person 

Who plays us for things we don't want to do.

We get to decide if we show up or not.

Our stand-in doesn't get to choose.

I have a person who plays me.

She shows up with a smile.

She goes through the motions

And pretends to like 

Whatever's going on for a while.

But if something starts to drag on too long,

She falls out of character and slips

Into her union-thug stunt-double mentality.

Hands on hips, her eyes get sullen and unsympathetic,

And if she starts tapping her foot,

Everyone should run.

So if you want me

To show up for your party,

Your dinner, your little soirée,

Don't you worry about what it will cost,

Because I never want to be paid.

But I don't like to be patronized,

And I really hate to be bored,

And I can spot a stand-in from a mile a way,

So please, don't send yours to me,

And I won't send mine to you.

-jenn

They told me my great great Granny Pearl's mother

Said something like this

Regarding the civil war:

"I have no medals on my chest.

I have no trophy to raise above my head,

But I have outlasted many turbulent times.

I've stood and watched the battle pass through,

And after the battle, briars grew

Alongside the places where, first the army,

Then protesters marched,

And I didn't know who planted them,

But I was the one tasked

With cutting them back,

And digging them up and burning 

The fruits of war and contention.

Then I plowed the hedges and planted alfalfa

And blueberries and hoped for peace.

And I know I won't be getting any awards,

But I hear the words of the other survivors,

Telling their children,

'You can eat briartops if you need to, and live,

But, boy, are these blueberries ever better!'

And that is more than enough reward

For me."

-jenn

The heat has wilted my morning glory.

It closes its petals by eight.

By noon it's steeled itself

Against the bright burning blazes

And hot winds.

But even in its dormancy,

I see its dove-like gray underpetals

Shining in a placid sleep.

It sways, transcendentally beautiful,

Folded in its protective cocoon.

An unknown tune has hypnotized,

And now, my flower, hypnotizes me,

Convinces me to dream, too,

And come and bloom

When it does, for the moon tonight.

-jenn

There's one picture missing from the wall.

It's the one that matters.

There's one face that's not in the crowd.

It's the one everyone's looking for at the funeral.

Where is she?

The whisper rises up

Like the perfume off her hair

On a prodigal ray of sunshine.

She's not not there,

And she will never say why,

And everyone postulates a theory.

Everyone postulates. 

But in the wind, I hear her voice

Like an echo from the hollow.

"Nevermind....Nevermind...."

-jenn

Crazy Aunt Mar-Mar sits 

In a chair,

And stares

Out the window at sunspots falling,

And in a cosmic storm of understanding,

She comprehends answers 

To questions she

Will never have to ask,

Even if other humans think she's strange.

But my baby cat has been staring that long, too,

Studying a bird as it moves in the bush,

Watching its furtive quickness

In rapt attention,

Without blinking,

And no one thinks the cat is crazy at all.

-jenn

You're not supposed to park on the grass in town,

But who will tell the grass not to grow in my driveway?

The sign says do not walk on the grass,

But the grass ignores the signs and postings

And is growing up through the cracks in the sidewalk.

It's asking to be walked on!

I would never leave the house without my bra or girdle.

The civilization process has worked on me

And on most of my fellow human beings,

But who will come and civilize 

The wild grass and dandelion weeds

That constantly spring up within my soul?

I somehow feel they are the better part of me,

And if I could let them grow,

They'd make me whole.

I fight the constant urge to go wild and unkempt,

Nude and unbetrothed,

And go about my business 

Without being judged 

For how I'm clothed, or not clothed.

I'm starting to think civility 

Is the root of all human misunderstandings.

If we cannot be true to our own natures,

What can we be true to?

-jenn

Some people want their sons to dress like this,

 And some sons do,

But I'm proud of my son, too.

My son wears bedazzled boots

And refuses to wear anything 

With anyone's logo on it

Except his own.

My son is an extension of me.

I'm proud of who he's come to be.

He's who I would be if I were braver,

A brash naysayer

Against a harsh culture that should have been told no

Before it got a foothold on the human race,

And began choking the nobility out of it our innate existence.

-jenn

I lie awake at night and hear the frogs

Chorusing like a mob of drunken sailors.

I picture them with mugs held high,

Intoxicated mouths open wide

In smiles of hopeful reverie,

Singing sailor jigs 

And shanties about the sea.

But one song too many

About the ocean,

Like one too many ales,

Plants the seed of notion,

Where notion usually fails.

And as I gaze into my mind tonight,

I see the faraway look in the frogs deep sight,

And tomorrow late, the chorus will carry on,

But some of the frogs will be gone,

And I may pack my things and go 

And search for the ocean, too,

With a sea shanty on my lips,

And a crazy notion laid deep in my heart.

-jenn

The Native American man 

Was waiting to go through the food line 

At Golden Corral in his wheelchair.

A big-boned white woman backed up 

To let a server through,

And when she did,

Her butt was right in the Native American man's face.

He raised both hands to try to stop her

From falling onto him in his wheelchair.

She screamed and accused him of groping her.

A commotion occurred.

The police were called.

But a few honest witnesses

Were brave enough to tell what they had seen.

The native man did not have to go to jail.

So I guess a few things have changed since 1878.

The rain blows in from the south.

I open my north window and smell it

As it strikes the earth.

The sun is shining brightly, too,

And though I don't see a rainbow yet,

The Redbird begins to sing.

It's tune rises out from the brightly washed 

Green leaves of the pecan trees.

-jenn

I dance with you in my dreams,

And it makes me happy.

We twirl about without feet that get in the way,

Under a moon that rains silver coins

Straight into life's meter,

So we never have to pay for anything.

We laugh all night to the tune of love,

And never does a sour note play.

I dance with you all night in my dreams,

And it makes me happy,

And the happiness carries me through 

The following day.

-jenn

An alarm is going off on Sunday morning.

Someone's going out the wrong door.

Someone either of shouldn't have been here,

Or shouldn't have had to leave so early.

Maybe I shouldn't be here with you,

Having too much fun,

But I'm not going anywhere.

And when I do,

I'll go right out the front door,

And some other type of alarms

Can go off.

-jenn

When we don't talk,

I miss you,

And when we do,

The only difference is,

The phone bill goes up.

But who's that singing 

Just outside my window,

With such an insistent message

That I must go

And walk into the hollows

Of the pecan orchard

And feel the sunshine for myself 

And listen to the winds blow?

When we don't talk,

I think of things I should

And shouldn't have said,

And when we do,

I'm quiet now,

So I won't regret too much.

But who's that singing 

Just outside my window,

With such an insistent message

That I must go

And walk into the hollows

Of the pecan orchard

And feel the sunshine for myself 

And listen to the winds blow?

Redbird you have drawn my heart away.

-jenn

I don't eat hype.

I stick to hay.

I'm your horse.

You feed me.

I like my info from the source.

I like to graze right off the land.

I prefer my sugar cubes

Straight from your hand.

I'm your horse.

You feed me.

-jenn