I left a Man in the Smokies

Somewhere in the Smoky Mountains 
Is a man I left behind years ago,
Now, with a wife and kids,

I scroll Facebook startled by the luminous Glow
Of his happy family displayed before me,
And I am instantly transported
Ten years into the past,
Wondering what the outcome could have been if I was more emotionally fearless,
And he a little more courageous,
But we were young, barely adults,
Still in our early twenties,
Still sticking to life plans we formed as Children,

No, we had our chance,
And we both played chicken,
Swerving right before the cataclysmic car Crash,

We both blamed timing,
But for me, in the end, it was fear,
I let him go because I was not ready to be a Wife,
To support him in the way a husband Deserved,
And I stopped loving him because he could not Make a choice between me and his current Wife,
And I would never want to question my Partner’s loyalty,

So, I left the mystic Smokies for the brusk Roar of the ocean, and salty sun kissed skin,
And set out on my own adventure,

A thousand miles apart, and ten years have Passed, sitting at my computer desk,
I do not regret letting him go,
Nor do I regret the memory of him,
Nor do I hate his wife and family and their Success,
I just drink my coffee and let the smoky haze Of the past wash over me like a wave,
And listen to the roar of the ocean,
I am grateful for the time we had,
And the lessons I learned,
And the life I have now,
And the life I have yet to lead

~ By Hyacinth Hale

Strawberry Shortcake

The waiter comes to our table with a menu        “Dessert?
We could not possibly!” I say,
My husband looks intently into my eyes and Says, “Yes! We will take a menu”,
Years of saving pennies and fad diets are Behind us now,

We finger the menu together,
Going line by line, ingredient by ingredient,
Sitting closely, hair raised on our arms,
As if we were transported back to the malt Shop where we had our first date,
No strawberry malts listed on the menu,
We settled for strawberry shortcake instead,

The dish came, a slice of cake as big as my Head, strawberries as big as my eyes,
The cake dripping in sauce the color of my Salivating tongue,
A playful dollop of whipped cream begs for my Finger to dive into it,
And a mint leaf spreads it’s foliage over top As garnish,

My husband nudges the plate toward me,
Taking pleasure in watching me eat,
Taking pleasure in me reveling in new Sensations I had never experienced before,
How quickly we have forgotten to take time For simple pleasures,

I plunge the fork into the cake,
Dangling a chunk in front of my husband, Teasing him,
Inviting him to taste what I have,
Pulling him closer and closer to me until,
He succumbs to temptation, kissing the Strawberry I carved out for him,
I wipe the crumbs from the corner of his Mouth,
And he playfully wipes a Dollop of whip cream On my nose,
Then he wipes it away with the same napkin,

My head found rest on his shoulder,
The cake found a new home in a to go Container to be eaten later,
My husband quietly paid the bill,
Holding me tight with one arm and handling Business with another,
We made our exit,
Strawberry short cake in tow,
To be used at our discretion,
Whenever we need a reminder of simple Pleasures

~ By Hyacinth Hale

ET Phone Home

Photo by KoolShooters on Pexels.com
If men are Martian and women are Venusian,
And no one seems to be able to communicate,
How in the world did we populate the Earth?
Make babies and procreate?
All I got to say is thank God for body language!

Though some men still think red means go,
And no means yes, and pushing and shoving
Is just rough housing foreplay, so what’s a girl to do?
What are women to do, but especially,
The girls growing up surrounded
By alien predators lurking?

Not all boys, not all men,
But enough for young girls and women 
To band together to tell their stories 
At sleepovers, over drinks, and during coffee breaks
To strategize how best not to get harassed,
Molested, raped by these pretend invaders,
I wonder if boys and men are having similar
Conversations about how best not to rape?

When you finally do find a man,
And bring him home,
And deem him not a predator,
You still cannot seem to talk to him,
He seems to think that he is logical,
And that your feelings are too emotional,
And everything you do from the way you walk past him
To the way you do the laundry is sexual,
And when you finally are in the mood, it is inevitable,
It will be during the football game that he waited all week to see,
And no amount of rubbing his thigh,
And whispering questions in a low sensual tone
Will distract him from living vicariously through
The snap of the pigskin between the thighs of
The representation of modern-day warriors,
And because we cannot communicate,
We are foreigners living in the same house,
In the same bed, inside each other,

Then the little aliens come,
And the communication breaks down further,
As we realize we do not know what we are doing,
We band together, praying for an alien abduction
After six months of three am feedings,
But we fight over everything,
No fight too petty for the sleep deprived
Joyous new parents of a vomit-soaked poop monster,
You have one goal, keep the little humans alive,
Executed in drastically different fashion
The dangerous half assed way and the right way,
And depending on if you are a man or a woman,
You will disagree on which parent you are, 
and who your partner is,

Congratulations! You survived the parenting mission,
And you are kicking your kids out of the mothership
Into the big bad Universe to explore
And try to communicate better than you did,
And you are stuck with your partner alone
For the first time in eighteen plus years,
Only to realize, he is still rusty with his Venusian,
And you are still struggling with your Martian,
Because somewhere along the way,
You stopped trying to become fluent,
And just accepted it is what it is,
And drifted further apart
Onto opposite sides of the couch,

Sure, you have sex, but it is mechanical, formulaic,
Scratching an itch rather than stoking the fire
That used to burn inside the both of you 
Where each difference you had 
Was a treasure that you wanted to unearth,
 To dive deeper into their mind and their body,

You forgot to ask after year three,
If anything, you did felt good or bad,
Or to explore, and try to plant a flag
Like it was the first time because
What was once foreign, became so familiar
That it was common, and no longer special,
And work and the kids, and life in general distracted you,

Now, your bodies and your minds are temporal,
There is only so much time left with your partner to relearn,
Or perhaps, learn for the first time, 
who they truly are before they evaporate into the ether,
So, what are any of us to do,
But to endeavor to make it our mission
To become fluent in our partner’s foreign tongue,
Both figuratively and literally,
Until our shriveled unfurled last breath

~ By Hyacinth Hale