Unnoticed in Clever Worlds

The clearest description I have managed so far about my blog is that it is not about cats. In general, I find predators pretty predictable while prey on the other-hand, because they live in universes of anxiety, develop more textured personalities. I also have as a writer a deft hand when it comes to making matters worse, so of course , the already panicky are ready made for me. I will try to grow this blog into an assortment of laughs, because that is what my life has mostly taught me to do. I will use the famous people I have known to get your attention and then tell you small but many times wonderful things about them. I will never name the ones I say ugly things about but I hope you will guess who they are.

Breasts

Breasts simply are not given the credit they deserve.

I started out being kept alive by them. Then they disappeared, encrypted in bras and starched dress canopies. I, of course, was hormonally designed to think of little else.
I spotted not one until I found a National Geographic Magazine, which permitted the naked breast under the auspices of anthropology.
That was pretty much it until high school when dark automobiles established the breasts as “first base.”
In college, as a hippy, I plowed happily into the women’s movement. Women used their breasts as a symbol of liberation, and I never knew a man that quickly did not come on board.
Corporate television maintained it’s ban on them. The major networks CBS, ABC, and NBC, hold on to this righteousness to this day keeping some aging folks happy.
The rise of cable TV is indebted to naked breasts. It simply would not exist without them. Nor, as it happens, would the internet, which uses information as an intermission for its porn.

Poem: To Please Him

He climbs on me at night
to do bug things.
“Remember our first time,”
he whispers in the mean humming pitch
of warm August night locusts?
“Always,” I whimper.
He smoothes his antennae over our pillows,
like the handsome actor.
“Are you ready to die?” He sighs,
like small talk.
“Yes, I will die.” I plead.
He is pleased,
and I am safe.

It knew
I wasn’t going to tell.
I wrapped it in thick brown paper
and ran straight home
after it raped me.
I could not leave it there.
Not knowing where it was.

At breakfast
he asks, “So what shall we do today?
So casually that I am confused.
He touches my hand, his carapace hard
and unalive. I watch my thumb caress
the shell.
In small back and forth dread.
“What would make you happy?” I said
He smiles
and I exhale.

I told him tonight
His grubs live in me.
I feel them tearing to come out.
Praying daddy longlegs scraping
and burrowing for air.
His head on my stomach
listening and whirring insect songs to them.
I stroke the needle hairs on his back.
I know he loves me.

My deceit holds no estate in him.
I have vanished into what has hurt me.
Life forbids I feel nothing at all.
I will love my children.

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