Springtime

Tick

Tick 

Tick
It all moves so slowly

Tick

Tick
Right now

Tick
As people walk their dogs 

Tick 
And push their strollers 

Tick 
And wave from an appropriate

Tick
Distance.

Tick

Tick

Tick

Flip
Goes the calendar page.

Flip
A year from now

FlipFlip
Springtime will come again

FlipFlip
With tulips and daffodils

FlipFlipFlip
And we will be

FlipFlipFlip
Together.

In A Place That I May Not Know Of

I am safe and warm
Even as I throw doors wide open
To let air flow through
In a place that I may not know of
It calls out to me.

The urge to wander takes me down the road
With everything I need tucked neatly away.
On angels wings, with golden spheres, Serenity will soar
In a place that I may not know of
It calls out to me.

Lost in the fringes.
Lost for now.
Not where I want to stay.
Highways whisper my name.
For now, I stay.
Then all will transform
And I will be lost one day
In a place that I may not know of
It will be called home.

MARCHING ORDERS

MARCHING ORDERS
by Jonella Allen

Cupid, I've got a bone to pick with you. 

If you worked in any other industry, you'd have been fired ages ago. 

Your aim sucks. 

You're clearly out of practice. 

You're going to have to start doing better. 

Consider this your written warning, 

your final notice, 

your stale donut with jelly filling that was once covered in powdered sugar 

but now sits shriveled and crusty on a paper plate in the break room.

I haven't wanted your particular brand of expertise in quite some time. 

Then, when I asked for it, you sent me the perfect man. 

Okay, he was hardly perfect. 

Who wants perfect anyway? 

This guy, he was nice though. 

And he liked me. 

I liked him too. 

So you lined him up in front me, 

drew one of those Venus kissed darts, 

then let it flutter into haystacks like some feckless summer camp pastime.

So I want you to start explaining. 

Explain to me why you chose that moment 

to grease the hinges on my defenses. 

Explain to me why you gave us so much in common. 

Explain to me why those same things are the weapons used to inflict the most damage. 

Explain to me why. Why?

I know why. 

You've gotten by on the mass produced schmaltz shoveled 

into the lockers and backpacks of teenage girls by concupiscent teenage boys. 

We girls keep looking for these waffles 

with every nook and cranny dripping with butter 

and honest to goodness maple syrup. 

We girls keep looking for proclamations made on a cliff 

at sunset on Oahu's west coast while waiting for the green flash. 

We girls keep looking for the knight and the horse and flowers and the ring.

Wait.                                                                          

Oh.

            Holy.

                        Shit.

Rumpelstiltskin on toast.

Chasing fucking pavements.

Wetsuit wearing cat on the couch.

Marbles. Rolling. Marbles. Flicking. Marbles.

Take them and go home you selfish brat.

I had this. I had all of this. 

I had that other guy with the proclamations 

and the cliff 

and the sunset 

and the flowers 

and the waffles 

and the ring 

and Hawaii 

and even the fucking horse. 

Okay, he wasn't a knight. Seriously. That was the only thing missing. 

Oh, and the fact that, 

for the most part, 

none of those things are what I wanted. 

I thought I did. 

Refer back to aforementioned schmaltz. 

But what it turns out I want 

is someone who shares the same interests 

and challenges me to keep thinking 

and learning 

and makes me laugh 

and wonder what could happen next 

and even makes me angry from time to time 

in the name of the ever elusive four letter word 

that can also make my heart jump with a well placed smile. 

Someone like that fella you had all lined up 

before you took one too many shots of Fireball 

while trying to settle a bet with Eros 

and your bow got shaky 

and the arrow snapped in two.

So there you go, Cupid. 

There are your marching orders. 

Find him. Again. 

Not the sappy one, God bless him, 

with whom I am still friends today 

and thank my lucky stars every Christmas 

when I get the card 

that he found the girl who wants 2.5 kids 

and a summerhouse in the Malibu Colony. 

Okay, I admit, the house would be nice. 

If you could include the summerhouse 

while finding me the guy 

who loves David Fincher movies without being a sociopath 

and Bret Easton Ellis novels without being a serial killer 

and thunder showers on summer afternoons 

and long conversations in the corners of restaurants 

and road trips with no particular destination 

and certainly no planned ahead reservations 

and canines more than felines but loves all critters really 

and DC more than Marvel but obviously enjoys the movies 

and New York more than D.C. but still lives on the West Coast 

and Star Wars more than Star Trek but is still grounded to this planet 

and me, just as I am, that would be great.

So there you go, Cupid. 

There's your assignment. 

Your task at hand. 

Find him. Then come back for me. 

Shoot straight. Get this right. 

This is your chance to make two mere mortals very happy.

So there you go, Cupid.