Taco Tuesday 

 

 

Tuesday afternoon came around. We had planned on meeting up for lunch at Rosita’s. They have the best tacos on the island. The place was beat up. It looked like it was constructed entirely of driftwood and old metal signs. I ordered the Key West Amber. The barkeep wore peach shorts and a denim shirt buttoned low over a nice, tight tank.

“I’ll have a water, no lemon please.” The sound of her voice broke the love spell.

“Sorry, I was…uh…”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“How are you?”

“I’m good. It has been a rough start to the week, but it’s early and we’ll rebound.”

“I love that about you.”

“What’s that?”

“How you always find hope in the situation.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“No, I get it. I just don’t naturally see it.”

“Are you guys ready?” The barkeep asked.

“I’m going to have the taco plate.” Alice’s voice was overly cheery, bordering on patronizing.

“Make that two, please.” I resisted looking at the barkeep, instead keeping my eyes on the menu. I folded it, handing it to her without ever looking up. I’m sure it was awkward for everyone.

“What’s your name, dear?” Alice asked the barkeep.

“It’s Summer.”

“Oh, of course it is. ”

 

*previously published

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I Want To Live An Artistic Life

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I want to live an artistic life
One where I’m able to create
To dispel these useless actions
My power of imagination is my fate
I’m tired of the routine & grind
Wishin’ for a life that’ll never tire
The energy to continuously write
Churning out stories to inspire

Do Not Be Afraid Of Your Strength

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Do not be afraid of your strength
Learn to love yourself & all forms
There’s peace within the text
Embrace ideas as they swarm
Take a walk into the fields
Go further, down where the fairies reside
Take time to learn the dwarves’ names
When you return you’ll be bonafide
Write what your soul has digested
Tell us the stories living up within
Once you become young
That’s the exact moment life will begin

Don’t Tell Me Stories Of The Righteous

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Don’t tell me stories of the righteous
I don’t want to hear of infatuated glories
My hope dwindles & my cynicism rebounds
Whenever your lips utter their sponsored stories
I’ll let you rule the ruins of dilapidated society
Your politicians ran amok, forcing common core math
I’ll retire into the wilderness to write my manifesto
Be forewarned; if you harm my loves, you’ll feel my wrath

Pretty Girls Are Pennies By A Dozen

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Pretty girls are pennies by a dozen
Beauty is fickle, you better have more
Please don’t come with the same story
Leave your tired past at the door
Say something to make me feel alive
You’ve always spurned life by chance
One day the clocks will fall upon you
Free yourself, purposefully; not by happenstance

She Was Telling Stories About Her Darker Creases

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She was telling stories about her darker creases
Seaside jaunts with a tireless string of boys
Social classifications leaving us feeling abused
Systematically wearing down a soul without any noise
Searching for fun in spite of former cuts & bruises
Sensations nearing proportions of hazy juvenile tales
Snapping to after another round of spirited friends
Sold on a notion even though our memory may fail
Sandy journeys bring us back to where we were lost
Still meandering around the area we remember most
Striking out to change the way our life unfolded
Stagnant when we finally return back from the coast