Poetry

NOLA

"Cypress Mystery" © Peter Barker, 2011. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
Cypress Mystery” © Peter Barker, 2011. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
Lars rolled down the window of his truck
Proffered me a cigarette
I sighed heavy, shook my head
Took it
Coughed hard
It’d been three months

“Pull up over here, man.
If I’m smoking on this trip
I need a pack of Newports.”

“When did you start smoking
menthols?”
Lips peeled back in disgust Continue reading →

Relationships

Unflinching

"moving boxes" © Robert S. Donovan, 2009. CC BY-NC 2.0.
moving boxes” © Robert S. Donovan, 2009. CC BY-NC 2.0.
We didn’t drag our feet. When Mason and I met we knew exactly what we wanted. Three weeks later I moved in. No hesitation. Over three years later and we’re still confident it was the smartest thing either of us ever did.

He makes loving him easy. Makes it safe to let my guard down. In those soft, tender moments it becomes clear just how different he is—this love is—than the ones I used to frequent.

The things I was fed flavored the rest of me. Every relationship I’ve ever had bled into the next one. Old habits and expectations that never served me well stuck around, wreaking havoc. I catch myself applying old salt to fresh wounds. Getting nowhere. Continue reading →

Relationships

Hunger

"Organic Onions" © Susy Morris, 2009. CC BY-NC 2.0.
Organic Onions” © Susy Morris, 2009. CC BY-NC 2.0.
I spent the morning handing out produce at a food bank downtown. Wrapped up in scarves and gloves we curved up our mouths at hundreds, making eye contact and conversation. “Just be warm and welcoming,” our volunteer coordinator told us. What that really means is, “Just acknowledge their humanity.”

Hungry. Not just their bellies. They want someone to see them. Someone to let them know that they’re noticed. They matter. They’re still worthy human beings.

Never in my life have I wondered where my next meal would come from. There were weeks when every meal was Top Ramen and cigarettes, but the meals always existed. I always had the luxury of being more concerned with my monthly booze budget. I made the decision to focus on getting high or drunk over getting fed, but always got fed anyway. I’m thankful for that. But I know the other kind of hunger. The kind Bruce Springsteen sings about. The one that volunteers and donation centers can’t combat. Continue reading →