Cleveland

 

My heart feels drawn to Cleveland
that’s where I belong
the smell of the airport
the baggage claim
the sounds of the city
nostalgia
vacation
home
pink winter coat
the Terminal Tower
lite up in the night
hanging street lights
snow
my ancestry
my history
grandmas and grandpas
mothers and fathers
pot lucks
I cannot count
the number of stories
of my mothers youth
taking the bus downtown
stories of my father
my grandfather
plumbers
Cleveland National Bank
Lorraine Street
the plays that were all set
on the stage of Cleveland

~Jenny

Freshness

Sometimes we have bad days
and just want to go home
and have someone make us Sloppy Joes
with tatter tots
and read us a story
preferably from the library
with the clear crinkling cover
that makes that delicious noise
every time you open the book
or turn the page
and tuck us in
with fresh floral print sheets
and quilts
in a little cottage
with the window open
and a fresh breeze blowing in
and stay by us until we fall asleep
with the stars shining brightly
outside

~Jenny

War

War is ugly
some of our tenderest souls
have lost their bearings
on the field
and their friends
they take this to the grave
after carrying it around
all their long lives 
in a spiritual duffel bag
full of pain
and visions
no one should have to endure

~Jenny

Monday Morning

Swimming in my own thoughts, inadequacies and fear.
I think someone peed in the pool.

~Jenny

When You're In Love With Your Best Friend

"Little girls get temperamental sometimes"
I said, as we watched The Secret Garden together.
"I know" he said.
"Grown women are all still little girls inside."
I replied.
"That's what I love about you" he smiled.
They say that if you are in love with your best friend,
that gets you through the natural fact
that relationships fluctuate.
When you are in love with your best friend,
most days are like a birthday party,
most nights are like a slumber party,
and simple meals are like Thanksgiving.

~Jenny

Untitled For Another Day

The pedestal
has come crashing down
I always do this
place people at incredibly tall heights
without a ladder
you can’t climb down
I can’t climb up
and maybe
just like the lone sailor
who washes ashore
on the island
of natives
I think you are a god
the savior
only to find out
that you make fire from matches
not magic
and then
I want to hunt you down
and burn you at the stake
for deceiving me
I’m not mentally ill
just illusional
about people sometimes
and my own worth
I get up every morning for work
comb my hair
brush my teeth
put on my clothes
I pay taxes
I try to be a descent person
and if I should find out
that I am wrong
even if eternity passes
I will admit it
I stand up for what I believe in
and try to leave alone what I do not
your rants have become raves my friend
and why is it
that when we are emotionally vulnerable
we repel what we need
and when we turn our backs
what we needed comes back
like a moth to flame
it is just as Jack said
“mankind is like dogs, not gods”
you have to stay mad
you have to snarl and bite
to get a pet or a crumb
or respect
if I saw you in the marketplace 
of “Love In The Time of Cholera”
I would have to tell you
“I’m sorry, I was mistaken”
and turn my back
because I just realized
the truth of the matter is
I am better than you
and maybe this scares you
or maybe
you just don’t care
I always do this

~Jenny

Summer

This time of year is sweltering
tiring
oppressive
but not entirely
there is some comfort
in familiarity
and past memories
of the sun’s debut
upon the stage of the earth
memories of Slip and Slides
the smell of damp towels
after a day in the pool
the peaceful hum
of air conditioners
sitting on patios
with loved ones
in bathing suits
not quite dry
with thunderstorms coming in
and big billowing clouds
offering a momentary reprieve
from the brightness
hamburgers
chlorine rinsing showers
time together indoors
and a feeling that you are surviving
something together
patiently waiting
for pumpkins
and falling leaves
and the rich smoky smell
of fall
as the golden light returns
to welcome more holidays
after long holiday-less months.

~Jenny