He was a brown-eyed boy Freckles on his cheeks He shared his gummy Coke bottles And always picked me to play at recess He was a little misunderstood But not by me I saw him as kindred He helped transform the gray playground Into space ships and fantastical landscapes It didn't matter I was an icky girl Or that he was an yucky boy He was comfortable with me And I with him My heart broke when he moved away I never meant to lose contact but we did We found each other for a minute Just after high school He sent me a letter and a picture A man's version of the freckled face I once knew Adorned in dress blues I think I responded too enthusiastically I never got another letter And my heart broke a second time I hope that wherever he is He is happy A brown-eyed boy With freckles on his cheeks Sharing gummy Coke bottles With someone he loves
Curtains of branches and leaves cascade to the ground Creating a sanctuary for childhood dreams beneath The somber sway of weeping willows Hides from common eyes the magical worlds they held for me I made friends of willow trees The trees of my childhood spoke to me They greeted me every time I played in their park There are less of them today But a few still stand Providing mystical playgrounds for new children I wave hello to those trees when I pass them by Hoping they remember the little girl who loved them so well And always will
Hello I hear the secrets that you keep when you're talking in your sleep Don't stand so close to me Take these broken wings I want to live the glamours life All night long That's my prerogative
Sweet dreams are made of this It's a kind of magic A total eclipse of the heart Sweet child o' mine Two of hearts Livin' on a prayer
Don't stop believin' That's the power of love I wanna dance with somebody Call me I'm addicted to love Never gonna give you up
What's love got to do with it Love is a battlefield I need a hero Like a prayer If it isn't love It's a cruel, cruel summer
Highway to the danger zone Do you really want to hurt me I'm crazy for you I've been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh Lord Time after time I want to know what love is Take my breath away
I loved blanket forts as a child I would live in a blanket fort For as long as I could get away with it Inside was my temple Soft, dark, warm and safe Outside was an adventure Sometimes the real world More often, though, anything else Other worlds filled with Villains and friends Hazards and wonders Mischief and magic Infinite possibilities Stood beyond my blanket walls My plush sanctuary Existing in two places at once A world within the world Transporting away from and rooting me to Home
I wrote you a box of postcards I never sent I could not set the stamp In place I could not address it To that space you weren't there anyway You never really were
I am from slave ships, cotton fields, and courthouse slave trades I am from generations of strong women who fought to do more than simply survive From an oldest, broken white son with a poet's heart and a love of rivers I am from a youngest, determined black daughter who sacrificed so much for those she loves
I am from a loving grandmother who wore her traumas as bitterness While she fixed fried chicken and collard greens with ease I am from Saturday morning chores with the "golden oldies" playing I am from love and struggle and sacrifice, the latter two I was rarely aware of I am from church on Sundays to commune with a God I knew better than most in that place And who wore a virgin mother's countenance
I am from morning and afternoon cartoon blocks And Saturday mornings in front of the TV singing to School House Rock I am from riding my bike for miles and for hours I am from being too curvy to be a real dancer While I danced my heart to joyful dust on every stage I am from having so much to say but rarely feeling heard I am from watching TV at the same time as a friend while on a phone attached to a wall And playing chicken with who will hang up before a parent yelled at both of us to get off the phone
I am from acid washed jeans, baby doll tops, denim, velour, and asymmetrical collars and hems Hammer pants, jelly shoes, banana clips, mismatched pairs of accessories, side ponytails From French-cut leotards, stirrup pants, Lycra biker shorts, flavored lip gloss, and neon everything
I am from My Little Pony, Strawberry Shortcake, Rainbow Bright, Cabbage Patch Kids, He-Man, and She-Ra I am from Voltron, Robotech, GI Joe, Snorks, Smurfs, reruns of Loony Tunes, and Scooby-Doo From Newton's Apple, Square One TV, 321 Contact, Not Another Science Show, and Read It I am from Garbage Pail Kids, Magic: The Gathering, Pogs, and Beanie Babies I am from "Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret?" and "The Dollhouse Murders" From Choose Your Own Adventures, and Encyclopedia Brown Christopher Pike, Diane Duane, collections of "true" ghost stories and tales of the strange
I am from Dallas, Dynasty, Rescue 911, and Unsolved Mysteries Fantasy Island, The Cosby Show, and The Wonderful World of Disney I am from "At the sound of the tone *chime sound* turn the page." From hitting record on my tape deck hoping to catch my favorite song without a DJ's voice I am from Fisher Price record players, dual tape decks, and dropping mix tapes for mix CDs From VHS winning over beta-max and laser disc From spending hours in mall bookstores, arcades, and food courts
I am from dreams and imaginings Soap bubble fairy wishes and hours of made up worlds alone and with friends From possibilities and plans I am from "You will have more than I did." And "You will want for little." I am from a loving mother who never let me feel alone I am from good friends who never made me feel like the weird kid I kinda was I am from "You are as good, if not better, than EVERYONE else, and don't you forget it!" And "You can do anything you put your mind to."
I am from a tapestry of experiences and influences From a variety of adventures and explorations I am from a life full of love and support and as much opportunity as could be afforded And though not always easy or smooth I am from the just-right mix that created the me you see
I didn't need to have a reason But I did The reason I avoided that place Was you Was me Was us You see That was the place you decided that Us ceased to be That was the place where I returned to being just me The place where your voice Was replaced by the sound of slowly cracking glass As my heart shattered in my chest Your eyes pitied me While your lips spilled more Shattered glass to fill my roaring ears I forgot how to breathe And my now shattered heart forgot how to beat And your eyes pleaded with me Because you were already gone You had dismantled us Placed the pieces into a shoebox And buried me alive in a shallow grave I love you-s replaced by I'm sorry-s Those brown eyes indeed sorrowful As my soul was felled by a thousand surgical cuts Sundering two halves into two less-than wholes I just wanted you to stop talking To stop looking at me that way To stop tearing down my world Then you left And I stayed I didn't need to have a reason to avoid that place But I did
I miss foggy autumn mornings in San Francisco having breakfast with my bestie in his haunted apartment in a building which was once a Gilded Age brothel.
-gws
That one time when I realized that I lived several significant chapters of my life in a more compressed amount of time than I remember them. In my mind, these chapters are written in the space of a couple to three years, but in actuality it was only about eighteen months. And realizing this is all the fault of a playlist.
I'm from the days of mix tapes and mix CDs. Mixes may now be in the form of digital playlists, but this change doesn't alter the joy of these collections. These gems of curated musical narratives form soundtracks for my life. A really good mix yanks me back to a specific time and place. The music transports me into the heart of nostalgia where my younger selves dance in too bright colors with naive abandon.
Melancholy or celebratory, music transports me to a specific time, feeling, event, emotion. It's the time machine of memory connecting my flashbacks to my body as I New Jack Swing, Smurf, Roger Rabbit, Kid 'n Play, or head-bang on a cellular level when the right song plays. Maybe it's remembering a friend's antics on the dance floor, or awkwardly slow dancing with that boy I liked in ninth grade.
Playlists can share the feelings I am unable or unwilling to express out loud. The music tells my story through lyrics and orchestration. I can sing along and tell my truth in the middle of others, but only I know my expressions are more than a sing-a-long. I've confessed so much though the filter of a song playing on the radio, more through a well agonized over compilation presented to a crush or a friend. I've crafted playlists to set the tone for car trips and for friends surviving a breakup. Playlists are the gifts that keep on giving.
I look forward to being reminded of where I was physically and emotionally when I listen to old playlists. I look forward to creating new ones that speak to my now. I encourage you to shake your groove thang. Remember people are people. The groove is in the heart. It's okay to say bye, bye, bye. Hips don't lie. And don't forget to celebrate because it's the dawning of the age of Aquarius.
-gws
Once so tangible and full of detail
Now blurred to softness like watercolor ghosts
What used to feel like yesterday now reminds that yesterday was a long time ago
Like chalk in rain, only hints of detail remain
Specifics are now impressions wrapped in a soft quilt of nostalgia
I grasp hopelessly at the intangible like trying to hold onto a dream upon waking
I wish I could return to the presence of those times
To stand within myself and see again from my own eyes
Feel again with my own senses
Retouch the blurring lines like an old tattoo
And return the vivid, Technicolor, stereophonic quality of those most precious moments
In Kodachrome vibrancy on the mental reel to reel that are my memories
Before time leeched them of their saturation
Like a well-loved security blanket with its rough edges and snagged seams
I handle these memories with adoration as I explore what remains of something so
precious
And sit in gratitude for still having them at all
-gws
Words Wishes and Wisdom 