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An Updated Resume:

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By Waltz-With-Me   |   Watch
2 0 231 (1 Today)
Published: September 18, 2009
Your father’s favorite
bobblehead,
his fingers dancing on your scalp
irritating rusted springs
three taps from snapping.

You cry
every time he calls.
Wah-wah,
like Charlie Brown and
old cartoons
the 1930s, when men
jumped out the window
a mass exodus to the ground
and no one noticed
‘til after
‘til cerebrospinal fluid
flowed around the “haves”
in oblong rushes brushing
the “have nots.”

You look out at the scenery
a daydream distracting
phone pressed to your ear
and they tell you not to jump.

He pressures you
like a shaken cola
a bursting catheter.
You gust out of a
punctured aerosol can
into school, postponing life—
don’t date in college—
a cerebrospinal geyser.

You think about the after
the milk and honey that flows
out his mouth into the receiver
tickling the down in your ears
that keeps your balance.
Just one more year.

And after everything—
they said
you should’ve spent more time
with your father.
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© 2009 - 2019 Waltz-With-Me
:O
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For Nelson Mandela
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He tied piano strings to his heart, so that every time it beat it didn't sound so empty inside. But the music in his heart couldn’t permeate the hollow air as the metronome kept time for the clock. One, two. One, two. Reedy notes plummeted from his lips as he made me pluck out Tchaikovsky and Bach when all I wanted to play was twinkletwinklelittlestar. "I'm just a little girl." My fingers tripped and stumbled and I know that I could never play as well as he needed me to; I could never keep his notes from slipping off the page. White and black sideswiped my fingers, as I struck one chord too many. "I've always wanted to
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A cupboard full of dreams is all that’s left in my kitchen. You took sugar, salt and spice and left me monsters, castles and knights to cook our meals with. Can’t you see this isn’t enough? You say you’ll be paid some day, and till then, we’ll survive, somehow. But the cupboard is empty to all but us, and to me, its contents are fading. You built good dreams they lasted longer than all the others. What kind of preservatives did you use? I bet it was sugar and lemon and love. You knew that this way, I’d never get enough.
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