The Price

Memorize this:

You will never know me

I will be there (have nowhere else to go)

dutifully doing what is expected of me

Keep my part of the silent agreement we’re all in

Actually, I’ll go beyond all expectations

I will be beyond criticism, beyond reproach

The outer world will see that perfect picture you are so invested in

But you will never know me

You will not gain entrance to my inner spaces

Never have my attention in any meaningful way

My heart and soul are permanently shut to you

This, I choose, and it will forever be my choice

Remember this

I know I will

 

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: memorize

Seasons of Love

I rue the day my husband fell in love with another.

He’s enamored. Bewitched.

He’s still in our marriage, but things have changed. Priorities have shifted to reflect this new passion.

And I cannot compete for his attention. I know that.

At first, I thought maybe it was just a midlife fling, a flash in the pan. That it would pass.

I thought maybe, him being Irish, there is some exotic draw that will fade, and he’ll eventually lose interest.

But he’s just gone deeper and deeper in. I have had to come to accept this new love of his.

I suppose I could leave him or demand he let this love go.

I try to tell myself that I cannot be his everything. To think of this other love as more of a hobby.

(I’ve always encouraged him to get one…be careful what you ask for.)

But it’s more than that, and in my heart I know it.

And yes, it is humbling to know that he wants to spend time with his other love.

She’s a demanding mistress. The appetite on that one! It seems bottomless at times.

Ah well. What can I do? It gives him such pleasure.

I’ve even tried to join in. That really didn’t work.

So I’ve begun to turn to my own dalliances.

Does this make ours an Open Marriage? Perhaps. I try not to be jealous, but it’s hard not to notice his level of excitement at times.

I am powerless over this, and I accept it.

I accept that my husband has another relationship, a deep love.

With American sports.

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: enamored

Wordsmith

One of my favorite lyricists is Cole Porter.

Seriously, is there any greater master of the rhyme in song?

His rhymes always feel organic. The rhyme is there, but so snugly placed that it feels natural.

As a singer, it feels effortless to memorize and to connect with his rhymes. Maybe because he not only wrote the lyrics but also composed the music for his songs. It is a tight marriage between the two. And a joy to story-tell through.

Porter lived a complicated life, and to me he is like the Tennessee Williams of the musical theatre world. Porter is brilliant and witty, but there is personal heartache interwoven into his beautiful poetry.

One of my favorites of his most intricate songs is “The Tale of the Oyster,” from the musical Fifty Million Frenchmen, 1929. It is really more of a sonnet than a song. So well crafted:

Down by the sea lived a lonesome oyster, Ev’ry day getting sadder and moister. He found his home life awf’lly wet, And longed to travel with the upper set. Poor little oyster. Fate was kind to that oyster we know, When one day the chef from the Park Casino Saw that oyster lying there, And said “I’ll put you on my bill of fare.” Lucky little oyster. See him on his silver platter, Watching the queens of fashion chatter. Hearing the wives of millionaires Discuss their marriages and their love affairs. Thrilled little oyster. See that bivalve social climber Feeding the rich Mrs. Hoggenheimer, Think of his joy as he gaily glides Down to the middle of her gilded insides. Proud little oyster. After lunch Mrs. H. complains, And says to her hostess, “I’ve got such pains. I came to town on my yacht today, But I think I’d better hurray back to Oyster Bay.” Scared little oyster. Off they go thru the troubled tide, The yacht rolling madly from side to side. They’re tossed about ’til that fine young oyster Finds that it’s time he should quit his cloister, Up comes the oyster. Back once more where he started from, He murmured, “I haven’t a single qualm, For I’ve had a taste of society, And society has had a taste of me.” Wise little oyster.

I also love the simpler but oh-so-exquisite “What is This Thing Called Love?” from Wake Up and Dream, 1929.

I was a hum-drum person
Leading a life apart
When love flew in through my window wide
And quickened my hum-drum heart
Love flew in thorugh my window
I was so happy then
But after love had stayed a little while
Love flew out againWhat is this thing called love?
This funny thing called love?
Just who can solve its mystery?
Why should it make a fool of me?
I saw you there one wonderful day
You took my heart and threw my heart away
That’s why I ask the Lawd up in Heaven above
What is this thing called love?
You gave me days of sunshine
You gave me nights of cheer
You made my life an enchanted dream
‘Til somebody else came near
Somebody else came near you
I felt the winter’s chill
And now I sit and wonder night and day
Why I love you still?
There is just one Cole Porter song currently in my repertoire. It is my most favorite. The glorious “After You,” one of his lesser known songs, written to open the musical Gay Divorce, 1932. I simply love it. Here is a beautiful rendition by the sublime jazz singer Sylvia Syms. An aside: she died of a heart attack at the age of 74, onstage at the Oak Room in the Algonquin Hotel in NYC, after a long and rich career. Now that’s the way to go.
Though with joy I should be reeling
That at last you came my way,
There’s no further use concealing
That I’m feeling far from gay,
For the rare allure about you
Makes me all the plainer see
How inane, how vain, how empty life without you would be.After you, who
Could supply my sky of blue?
After you, who
Could I love?
After you, why
Should I take the time to try,
For who else could qualify
After you, who?
Hold my hand and swear
You’ll never cease to care,
For without you there what could I do?
I could search years
But who else could change my tears
Into laughter after you?

 

#coleporter #thetennessewilliamsofmusicaltheatre #wordsmith #rhymemaster

 

The Draw

What is it about you?

I cannot let you go.

I feel pulled towards you

no matter what you do

(or don’t do) to me.

This attraction I feel for you

is magnetic…hypnotic…

(it’s…pathetic!

That’s it, no more!

You are dead to me!

Just say no! Walk away!)

God, I love the way your cheeks flush

That little curve at the side of your mouth

Those shining eyes that sparkle wickedly

You’re so funny, and smart…

Hey – what are you doing later?

Me? Oh, nothing. Yeah, I can meet up late tonight.

Sure. I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll be there. Waiting.

(How did that just happen again?)

 

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word prompt: magnetic

 

 

 

 

 

The Comeback Kid

“Are you a boy, or a girl?” she asked, lip curled in a grin that implied she knew but just wanted to make me feel small. It worked.

“I won’t even dignify that with an answer!” I said…

…silently, in my head.

I felt the familiar rush of shame blush my cheeks a rosy pink, and stood, frozen, eyeing the group of kids standing behind the most popular girl in my new school.

My heart pounded in my chest so hard I feared it might explode through like a fist.

That image gave me some comfort: the blood would splatter all over Susie (Jenny? Brittany?) and crowd, so there’d at least be that.

Ruing the short haircut my Mom had talked me into just before we moved, my flat-chested, barrel-like bigger-than-most-girls-my-age body, and my fair, freckle-speckled skin, I tried to think of something to say that would get me out of this encounter with some teensy shred of my dignity in tact.

This was it. The way I handled this moment would set the tone for my future in this new environment, this new social strata. I searched the memory banks of my mind for some comeback that could get me out of this mess relatively unscathed. Perhaps even ahead in some way, having won them over with my wit under duress.

Nope. I got nothin’.

I felt a bead of sweat drip from under my left arm, causing a tickling sensation that, unfortunately, made me start to giggle. Hearing myself giggle made me feel a bit hysterical, which then caused me to actually start laughing hysterically.

And so what I actually did when faced with the elite of my new school was I stood there like a laughing hyena while they stood and stared in a mix of disgust and curiosity.

Eventually, the ringleader (Alyssa? Mandy? What was her name?) flipped her blond hair and said “Whatever!” as she turned and led the rest off.

Alone again, after the hysteria had crested and eventually receded, I took a deep breath in, and gave myself a silent “Welcome to your new school, Loser!”

The laughing jag had worn me out and left me with a hollow feeling that I knew all too well.

It was gonna be a bumpy year.

 

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: dignify

 

 

Inhabitant

This body o’mine

Through her I’ve met the world

She’s been gentle with me

But her, I’ve pushed and hurled

She’s taken hard knocks

From without and within

I’ve treated her rough

Lived a life full of sin

She’s asked little of me

Given me all that I’ve asked

Less-than-loving I’ve been

At times, she’s been trashed

I’ve wasted so much time

Hating parts I deemed flawed

The time has come to make peace

And to treat her with awe

I see her now as she is

A miraculous home for my soul

I thank her daily and nurture her

She’s a beautiful part of my whole

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: inhabit

Reflecting Pool

When I was at summer camp one summer in my adolescence, I learning synchronized swimming.

It was incredible.

I had always loved to swim. As soon as I could crawl practically, I was also in the pool. I was on swim teams throughout my childhood. Summers were spent practically living at the neighborhood pool with zinc oxide on my nose and forehead and fingers green or red from the boxes of jello powder we’d stick our fingers in and suck the sugary granules from for quick energy during the swim meets.

I was a shy kid, and large for my age, so I was a bit on the outskirts much of the time at school and socially. But the pool was a level playing area. I was a good swimmer, a strong one, and so I had some skills to bring to the team and so could feel a part of that whole, if not of the “in” crowd.

Then, at summer camp, being away from home helped me to break out of my shell a bit, to try on new parts of myself. I took new risks, and I even learned some new strokes, like the sidestroke, for water safety training (how to save someone from drowning,) which I loved.

And one particular summer, I learned synchronized swimming.

Looking back, that was pretty extraordinary, to have had someone there to teach that water sport.

I especially loved it because I was also obsessed early on in my life with movies. I watched the Million Dollar Movies channel religiously every day after school, catching all the old Hollywood classics, including films with the gorgeous and athletic water dancer, Esther Williams. Williams was an American competitive swimmer and actress who made a series of films in the 1940s and early 1950s known as “aquamusicals,” which featured elaborate performances with synchronized swimming and diving.

I loved all musicals, so naturally loved the movies that had her dancing in choreographed dances in the water with other dancer-swimmers. It is hard to imagine such a thing would be popular today, but to me, then, in the 70’s, it seemed glamorous and just more of the Hollywood musical movies world that I already knew I wanted to be a part of.

That summer at camp when I got to actually do what I had seen in the old movies, I got to feel like a beautiful mermaid movie star, and it was amazing. We even performed a small show for the other campers at the end of camp! It gave me such a wonderful feeling to be a part of a group, creating something beautiful. I think that was the beginning of a lifetime love affair of collaborating with other artists.

But more than that, it changed me in ways that are hard to articulate. It woke up something in me that I couldn’t hear at home where I was surrounded by reflections of myself that weren’t as vibrant or colorful as those I found in the waters and other campers at camp.

To this day, there are some synchronized swimming moves I still recall and often do, and when I do, I conjure up the magic of that summer, and my movie star mermaid days. The part of me that it awakened still lives on in my work and who I am, and I am so grateful for that.

 

 

 

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: synchronize

Date with Destiny

I knew.

Before it happened, I could feel it.

It almost didn’t happen.

If I hadn’t been on just that road at just that time.

His car passing my overheated one as I sat in it, seemed so…miraculous.

I’d not seen another car for at least an hour.

After realizing I ‘d no cell service, I’d kind of lost it. Then I calmed myself down, surrendering to the dawning reality that I was not going to make it to my friend’s wedding on time.

The fact that he stopped seemed so…amazing.

And he seemed so…genuine. (And kind of cute.)

Hope leapt into my chest like a butterfly. I could still make it!

I grabbed my bag and climbed into the passenger seat of his rather nondescript, conservative car. I took a deep breath in and thanked him again, settling in for the ride.

That’s when I felt it, as I looked down and checked that my cell was in its side pocket in my purse. The visceral dread in my gut.

I don’t know what changed, why suddenly everything that seemed so right suddenly felt so wrong.

But as I heard the car door locks click to “locked,” I knew I’d made a mistake.

And just as I looked up and felt the blade of a knife plunge into my waist, into the place where I feel most vulnerable, where it is a scary mix of ticklish fear to be touched, I saw that he knew that I knew I’d made a terrible mistake.

And as I left my body and watched what he did to my body from above, it all seemed so very, very…clear, and so very, very…inevitable.

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: visceral

In the Beginning…

I don’t buy the primordial ooze theory

Or the Big Bang, for that matter (pun intended)

I look at a flower, its perfect design

The hide of the cougar, its markings

The veins in a leaf, the pattern in a snowflake

My own body – my eyelashes, my skin cells!

The systems that keep me alive

It’s not random

It’s too brilliant

I don’t have a name for for what created it all

I don’t have a theory

But I sure do have reverence

And I sure do have awe

 

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: ooze

 

 

Pathfinder

Perhaps my way’s not been graceful

I’ve done my best, and that’s not for nothing

At times I’ve lurched or been wasteful

But it’s been my way, and that is something

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: lurch