Problem Solved

If you are odd

like me


if you are strange

like me


if you want to fit in

like I do-



What do you do?


You can smile like


and you can

pretend to

like coffee and Reality TV

like I have

you can wear flip flops in the summer

and funny sweaters in the winter

and when something dark and wicked

pops up in your brain

and eats at your bones and makes your hands twitch and your eyes burn


just smile

like I do

and pretend to like coffee and Reality TV

like I do

and you wait until

it is dark


really smile

in your bathroom mirror


all of your teeth

Like I Do.



My Little Kite

” I want to sail free, like a kite” she cried  in ecstasy

from the bridge



up into the clear blue  sky

of someone else’s  Spring

which had come  to her surprise

late in her Winter.


Winter agreed

who joined her on the bridge



And Winter came to her

as it will always has for us all

in the form of a woman

dressed in black

and Winter roared

in ecstasy

as she pushed her off of the bridge



to the gray, cold water  below,

” Fly my little kite. Soar. “

RDP Saturday: KITE

Not A Fan

When Spring arrives

and the Earth turns green and comes alive and the Sun warms my face and my bones

chilled to the core

by the Winter and its friends Ice and Snow

I could just pull my eyes out of my


and stamp all over them with my sassy summer sandals


pinch my feet


I hate the Spring.


I hate listening to cats looking for sex all night long.

I hate

the smell of fertilizer that stinks up the air

because everyone turns into

Old McDonald or that little girl in ” The Secret Garden

and they want to make ‘green things grow.’

Piffle! Stinky horrible PIFFLE


The only thing I like about Spring and the Summer

is when people

go outside and worship the Sun

and I can see their skin sort of mummify right there, in slow motion

and the air smells like barbequed food

and if you are really lucky

you can see yellow jackets fly off with pieces of meat from picnic tables.


Spring is a tease

it’s like Summer without the attitude

and it means that the Winter











The Birth of Weasel Eyes

When my youngest son was small he asked me what color eyes his cousin had- they weren’t brown, or blue or green so what color could they be?

Was there any other color he asked in amazement, could someone say, have yellow eyes or orange eyes?

His face was pale because an entire universe that had not existed for him a few minutes before had opened up in biblical proportions right then and there.

Sorry to say, I informed him with heartfelt regret, humans could not have yellow or orange eyes…his cousin’s eyes I told him were hazel.

” Really? ” he asked me ” she has….Weasel Eyes?

My son was six and I was once the older sister who moved her younger sister’s doll around at night so that when she woke up in the morning she would think her Baby Alive had come to life at night and crawled around her room.

” Yes. ” I said. ” Yes she does. She has weasel eyes.”

” How Mom, how did she get ….weasel eyes.”

The years fell away from me and as they did the Anita Marie from a long time ago roared back to wherever it was she had hiding, or banished to and she leaned down and whispered into Julio’s ear, ” Her Mom got them on sale at KMart, they were on sale.”

” Really?” he asked me hopefully.

” Real as Santa Claus.”

Julio stamped his foot, just like the kids in the olden days and he said, ” You’re not funny.”

I thought about it and told him, ” You know, I think I am.”


Here’s the actual funny part- over 25 years later and we still refer to my sons cousin as ” Weasel Eyes ” and for some strange reason, we have taken to calling anyone who is a strange or odd as ” Weasel Eyes.”

Of that dig I am innocent.

My defense is simple:

The apple never really does fall far from the tree and my youngest Son is a man who has taken after his Mother’s heart. If Weasel Eyes grew to new highs or lows, blame him.

On the other hand, I am the older Sister who convinced her younger sister her doll was crawling all over her room at night and to this day, somewhere in the back of her head she still thinks it did.

RDP Thursday – WEASEL

The Monkey Puzzle Tree


From the remains

of the Monkey Puzzle Tree

a little treasure

was made for me.


My mother wears it

on her chest

because I was the little devil

she loved best.


Dressed in black from head to toe

she sits next to me till the sun sinks low

and after it is dark

and the sun is gone

She leaves in the moonlight

to wake on my own.


From the remains of the Monkey Puzzle tree

my Mother wears a gem

in remembrance


wicked, hungry, undead  little me.

RDP Monday: JET