The Rogue Wave

It’s “just a beverage;”
you tell me;
Something wet,

that quenches,
enlivens your insides,
refreshes wholly
with  newness;
a tactile sensation,
an unexpected pleasant 360′ of emotion,
the flirtation of an ocean wave,
like a smile from across the room,
for you it’s real
for me
it’s not that same wave.
When it soaks you- you run to shore,
When it soaks me, I run in,
that unexpected wave,
I’m the child again,

it’s my first time at the beach
a welcome surprise, my first

rogue wave,
a cool reset on a sweltering day
you’ve tasted it’s salty rim
I hadn’t known I wasn’t alive?
I stood, my soul dripping
what it could not hold,
what it could not quench,
revealing the many tiny holes,
like a sieve it drains slowly at my feet
I am still thirsty same as you.

A Genuine Sort

                         Genuine

I was never the sort

To discard photos of old boyfriends;

…..even after I married.

I wouldn’t ask my husband to delete

Chapters 3-7 of his favorite book?

I was never the sort,

to think, perhaps I knew what I was doing?

From the day I gushed forth onto this earth.

Even in my twenties, when recklessly surveying

 My own resilience in life;

Puking in an alley way after showing the bartender my titties;

Humility was not in check inwardly or outwardly

This I knew, I was a late bloomer

Life itself spoke to me daily in both whispers and shouts,

In neon buzzing letters that dripped from the sky;

Fading into all that I would become.

I was never the sort to ask for help

But would prefer to swallow that whole bottle;

 And have you ask

“Can I help you?”

Now I am the sort where forgiveness is as abundant as poetry;

I want to read the book to its entirety,

Most often a sour start can end so sweetly