Patronizing Crocodile

Patronizing crocodile,
Your tears cool, condescending
And merciless in shadows.

Water stained wine glass brimming
With sins of omission near
Cracked lips awkwardly twisted.

Little faith paper thin now
Wet and soft will not suspend
You over anyone.

________________________

A Hard Sell

The Day I Met My Dad

Rustling little dress,

Mom laughed but polka dots would

Prove I was awesome.

From red to green

"Red crayons - the fat kind that little kids can hold," he explained.
Stop lights.
Cooked lobsters.
Beating hearts.

"I'm green now, so there's no reason to behave that way ever again. I just need some more colors to fill the palette."

I steered from his cerebral chromatism towards more tangible things.
"Have you found your social security card?"

"You know I can't enter any federal buildings. The frequency is just too high."

"But you can mail in the application for a replacement, right?"

"When I get close, you can literally see the smoke coming out of my ears."

I chatted with him for another twenty minutes or so, trying to keep a positive tone. It's like entertaining two separate conversations - my half anchored in reality and his half abuzz with sights, sounds and reactions that no one else can sense.

Through the delusions and scattered rambling, I know he's still in there.
He is my big brother.

Goldfish

Reading genuinely inspires me. 

     To think. 

          To write. 

               To listen. 

Reading can put the world at your fingertips and opportunity in your reach. 

I wish I could encourage Jack's son to read more. He is all video games, cartoons and basketball. 

The attention span of a 

                                                                                         goldfish. 

He is demanding and spoiled. He gets what he wants with barely a whisper of gratitude. It's not his own fault, of course. He has learned that his behavior is acceptable. I watch from the sidelines, wide-eyed. 

These are delicate waters to tread. I offer subtle suggestions only as they relate to me. 

May I help him write thank you notes for his birthday gifts this year?

Perhaps you could let him know that I appreciate an answer when I speak to him, even if the TV is on?

What might I get him for Christmas besides electronics or sports gear?

I am nobody to give parenting advice. 

Do I actually resent having nothing in common with an eleven year old boy?

For a penny

There is nothing lonelier than the company of someone else's family on a holiday. I should be thankful for the generosity and love, given freely and without judgement by these people who don't even know who I am. Instead...

I shrink.

I retreat to the bedroom. Or I sit in the corner, staring down at a book. I hear them telling stories in the next room. The comfortable small talk is deafening. It's not that I don't feel included, but that I have no interest in joining in. Oh, I can manage, for a time. I even enjoy it in small doses. But these holidays and weekend trips... all of this focused family time --

I am overwhelmed.

Unconditional love. Love without end. Irrevocable. Assured. Unequivocal. Indisputable.

That such a thing exists is staggering.

I have always experienced love with qualifiers. With doubt. Love that has been offered like a reward and then retracted when I no longer fit the definition of perfect.

I cannot sense unconditional love, and so it is certain that I cannot give it. Though my brain understands, my heart simply doesn't comprehend. It's being asked to describe the flavor of something it has never tasted.

The family that made me is disparate and shallow. Absolutely counterfeit, pawning "unconditional love" for a penny.

...

This perennial melancholy is imperceptible to them because I have pretty eyes.