Katie, this one is for you:

So KT, I am very excited you have joined the blogging world, and I am even more excited we can be blogging buddies. Holy cow I remember those good old Moon Pie days. They used to be IT. What I want to know is who the heck got rid of those crunchy M&Ms? You know the kind with a crunchy center void of Peanut Butter?
I really shouldn't care but I feel like I need to explain my blog and justify it in it's absurditiy. Up until this very entry, my blog has been my place for writing poetry, thoughts, and just practicing writing in general. Well, if you feel reading bad poetry, this is the place;-)

Classy

Classic. Classy. She's black Sunday shoes, and white tights. Mona Lisa, black and red; black and white. Play the piano and sing broadway's best. Face- she's like a ghost. Pieces of blood on skin, it looks like she has been in the raspberries. Possibly cherries. Stuff those grapes into your heart and you'll start pumping wine into your arteries. Blink lemon juice and you will cry great drops of lemonade. Keep walking with a wall in front of you so the steps will be shorter.
What was classy before the fifties?

There's this guy...

I'm walking across the expanse of lawn between two tall buildings and from a distance, I see this guy leaning on the railing that puts a barrier between him and the air beneath him. As I walk closer, it looks like he is doing some serious contemplation. He's got this furrow between his eye brows and he's just looking at the ground. I start to wonder if it registers to him what it looks like he's about to do. One vault over the railing and he could be smashed. I want to tell this guy, "Hey, it won't work when you're so close to the ground. You'd just break your leg." Then it occurs to me...I didn't think about telling him not to jump- more like I was saying,"Hey don't try cause instead of loosing your life, like you meant to, you'll just break your leg." Funny, the closer I got, the more I noticed he was on the phone, leaning and looking. Not contemplating the space.

Loosing sleep together. Walking out to his car, he smiled at me and we would be loosing sleep together. How romantic.

Mad cow disease
drips off of the last brain you slerped
down your esophagus
and I missed my chance to tell you
not to eat cow brains
because of the mad cow disease.

Michigan

In the movie "Easter Parade", there is a song Judy Garland sings about wishing she could go back to Michigan and be on the farm again. Although a huge part of this is romanticized (I don't know anyone who would be happy being woken up at 4 a.m.), there is an element of truth in her song. I never thought I would say this, but I have a nostalgia for the different farms I have lived on- and more specifically, the soil that made them places for growing and cultivating.
My Grandpa's was dirty with dry, loose dust floating above my sneakers as I walked. And with every step, the dirt would linger on my ankles just a little longer than the step before. I hesitated to inhale too quickly for fear the whole top layer of dirt would get clogged in my lungs, and when I sneezed it out, I would cause the dust bowl to erupt all over the wide West. I At the end of the day who ever had been walking with me and I would sit on the lawn in back of the farm house and trail our fingers along the skin closest to the gap between where our pants ended and our socks began. The deeper the furrow our fingers made in the dust, the harder we had played.
The second farm had a sticky layer of clay that suffocated the rich soil under the plant life. After it rained, the clay was glorious. It was as if with every layer coated upon our bare feet was a bath of natures finest brownie mix fresh from Mother Earth's great bakery. Great chunks of the clay would sometimes ooze out of the barrier which prevented the weeds in mom's flower beds from overflowing onto our lawn. This pieces of earth were pies in the making- another gift mother earth gave us in exchange for a few tears or smiles.