Love be a Lion

Love be a lion
don’t be a mouse

Love growl and prowl and snarl
do not scurry and hide

Threaten to devour and encompass me
beat my heart hard like a crazed native drummer
make your eyes gleam with the rhythm of me

Love be a lion
make me fear for my life
make me fear for a life


when you hug a girl with a broken heart
you need hope
to help you hold her

when you look into her eyes and you still see sadness there
you need hope
to light your smile

when you hold out your hand
but she’s scared to let go of the one thing she’s clinging to…
hope can convince her
to take a chance
to take a chance

you will plant kind words
where broken promises lie bleeding
and one day
hope will turn her heart into a garden

you will plant kisses
to paint her with happiness
and one day
hope will kiss you back

then day by day
moment by moment
your hope and hers
will turn hugs and smiles and touches and words
and kisses…
into love


I saw that ghost girl
standing rigid like a spike
stickin up out of the street
she was lookin at me
she was lookin at me
that ghost girl is
black as night and
there’s a ghost in her eyes
a big white ghost
coming for me
but I stopped looking
and drove on by
that ghost bulged right out
to get at me
but I stopped looking
don’t want no part
of that death before death
after death after death

look down
put those eyes to safety
put those eyes to quiet
put those white eyes away from me
don’t keep following me
with those ghost filled eyes
those empty eyes
those big white eyes

who took your soul away
and filled your eyes up
with death
with that hungry
death before death?

you shoulda looked away
cause they got those eyes
they sucked your soul right out
and filled those eyes up with ghost

those dusty boots

Boots on a Bench
She blew through this town on the way to wonderful and
When she came back, nobody knew who she was
But she was wonderful

Nobody bothered to dust her off
Back then
Her dusty boots
All scratchy and mud caked from that dirty road
That dirty road she walked

Nobody bothered to dust her off
That shiny she was
That shiny they never saw
Cause nobody bothered to dust her off

Nobody bothered cause what’s the point?
What’s the point when she’s always moving
Point A
Point B
Points in between
And unknown
Those points to wonderful
She was always going there
She was always going

She’s the kind of girl that takes the keys out of the ignition while the car is still in drive
Cause she just can’t wait to be there already
She wants to get out and go in already
She wants to be there already
She’s there already
But where are you?

I think you knew she was shiny
Back then
But you never dusted her off
You must have been waiting
For the dust
To settle

Now she’s back from wonderful
All wonderful and shit
The kind of wonderful you can’t not notice
Not now

She went places on that dirty road
Places and places and wonderful places
She learned things on that dirty road
Things and things and wonderful things
Now she knows about the people that live
In those places
And the things that they do
In those places
She knows wonderful things about wonderful people and the wonderful places they live

Wonderful is everywhere but here
Wonderful is everything but mine
Wonderful is everyone but me

But she’s the kind of wonderful that makes you look again
At yourself
She’s the kind of shiny that lights up
Everybody else
That wonderful kind that makes you look
At your own kind of shiny
Makes you look for your own dirty road
Makes you look for
That wonderful kind of you
Cause you’re dusty too.


Those broken women

With their unfeathered wings

With their messed up hair

And their naked eyes

Those broken women

With their tear stained necks

And their caved in chests

And their crooked legs

Those broken women

That can’t walk down their own road


Take me with you

You man you stronger man

Take me with you because I can’t walk on these hay straw legs

These weak wobbly crooked things

These things with no knees

These unbending soft stilts

These worthless

These worthless

These pointless dangling limbs


How can she go

How can she leave

Her legs don’t lead

They follow




She will never see that map

She will never touch that chart

That boundary that benchmark

She will never see the stars

See the sea

See the sky

See the air

See the clouds





Those soft those sad women

With their black eyes and their grey souls

Those women

Those those those


Flirting for Sidewinders

You got that right, my homey.  Now get your eyebrows in ready-go mode, because as it turns out, I’m one of them.

Always having touted myself as ridiculously honest, I was surprised one day to find me pulling the wool over my own eyes.  I had marched like a troop on orders to the Employee Dining Room, and upon entering, a cloak of grace fell from the heavens and I was Miss Alabama in an evening gown, gliding across the floor wanting nothing more than world peace, and to eradicate hungry children (or something like that) and for that guy over there to look at me.  Not just notice.  Look.  I was about to give the performance of a lifetime, playing myself in “Me, the Package”, and I wanted him to catch every mouth watering morsel.  I mean, moment.  Every mesmerizing moment.  Oh, and there was about to be some mesmerization up in here, y’all.

But where was my audience? I wasn’t quite sure if he was over there or over there or not even in here, oh golly.  Having not mastered the art of aloof room scanning, I ironically did what other people do when stuck on a Game Show…  I phoned a friend, which gives me the opportunity to bullshit importantly while gazing about nonchalantly.  Sometimes I’ll laugh, and it’s the kind of laugh, were he but here to hear it, that he would surely want to hear everyday of his life, starting now.  And then, through the twinkling of Oscar-worthy mirth, my eyes lock on target.  It’s go time, honey.  Miss Alabama is back, sidling demurely over to the coffee bar.  The sash and world peace remain, but the gown has got to go because it’s Pants Time.

Once upon the coffee bar, I glance over my shoulder like I’m about to toss a quarter into the fountain in Rome and then, poor unsuspecting bastard… Whabam!  Check the left cheek while I put a little cream in my coffee.  That’s right, now let me turn just slightly this way, and Ahoy matey, she stands astern!  Oh yes, Adam took a bite of this apple and now everybody has to go to church.  Now that I have his attention, like a well brought up Southern girl, I turn the other cheek.  Mama told me it’s the right thing to do.  Whappow!  I certainly hope my gentleman friend is catching the show, ’cause it’s all kinds of tiring putting Miss Alabama in hypnotic ass pants while still holding on to a world peace please smile.

Earlier this week I had been afforded the opportunity to stand within earshot of him while sprinkling my conversation with important words that could only leave him awestruck at my staggering intelligence.  So, package complete, and coffee in hand, I turn to exit stage left.  Gotta make this good.  The best actress can convey a mountain of meaning, without ever opening her mouth.  And I’m all over mountains.  I mean, meaning.  And once again, I’m sidling, less demure, more provocateur this time.  I glance over at him, shyly smile in his direction but not too specifically, pop the door with my hip and I’m gone.  He’s a puddle in the floor, I’m sure of it.  He poured right out of his chair and under the table.  His friends are stepping in him.  He didn’t want me to go.  But I did.  And now he’s all wimpy and sad.

But he’ll live.  I’ll torture him again tomorrow.  His heart is like a Gummi Bear.  Soft and bouncey.  He’s like a cat toy.  And I’m an evil cat with cruel intentions.  But I never knew it until now.  I’m a sneaky, side-winding bitch cat who pretends she wants coffee when what she really wants is attention.  It’s embarrassing.

When I realized what I was up to, it was quite the revelation.  I have always considered myself to be stupidly honest, and never, ever, ever (!) a flirt.  Never.  At first, I was trying to figure out what to do about it… how to bring honesty to the situation.  Do I burst into the Employee Dining Room and make an announcement?  “Attention!  I’m having a great hair day, and I’ve got my good butt pants on today.  I am not here to get coffee, though I’m going to get some because I’m addicted to caffeine.  My true reason for being here is that I want that extremely handsome man over there to want me.  I do not want a relationship with this man, I just want him to desire me passionately.  Not like a stalker, but like, one step down from that.  Or maybe two, depending on what that means to him.  I don’t want to know what that means to him, or what anything means to him.  I just want him to want me, and to convey that through meaningful glances.  Thank you, please continue eating your crappy meal.”

See?  Stupidly honest.  I’ve settled for leaving public announcements to the professionals and naughty celebrities.  I’m going to focus on being honest with myself.  If I’m going to get coffee and smile at the cute guy, then that’s what I’m doing.  Now that I know I kind of view him as a toy, I feel okay with some light-hearted flirting.  I don’t have to lie to myself anymore.  I’m going to flirt out in the open.  And I’m okay with that.  And based on the cute smiles we exchanged yesterday, I think he is too.

For Demure Sidling lessons, please hit me up at  JK.  Just purse your lips, shrug one shoulder up, then slither.  But I don’t recommend it.