You can't put your tableau on my tablet.

Surging into my abdomen.
A hint of bile in that next gulp.
Explain this condition with science, with kindness, with fortitude and wisdom.
Turning around to face it.
The almighty it.
It isn't a big deal. Not at all.
Is it?
Dumping the canister
I fuel the fire.
What's inside?
Confidence?
No.
Adoration?
No.
Faith?
Absolutely not.
Fear?
Most likely.
My face is ablaze with passion fighting to escape.
Cold seeping into my finger tips.
Moisture building in a clenched fist.
I taste salt on the tip of my tongue and brace for impact.
It takes hold and sends me whirling.
Relinquishing my basic motor functions
the wrenching reaches the climatic crescendo.
It releases me without a fight.
Foundation sufficiently shook
I'm still intact.

Teeter (Don't) Totter

Elevator buttons feel the same no matter where I go. I have yet to encounter one I didn't want to push.
Should I use my thumb this time? No, my index finger will suffice.
The little arrow beams at me.
Stepping across the metal threshold, a sliver of the cavern below reminds me that this could be a bad idea.
My nerves get the best of me as I look to the ceiling and see a reflection of myself.
I thought I was alone.
Exit right. Bee-line to suite 200.
My entrance is not grand. In fact, it's quite the opposite.
Blank application in hand, I seat myself two chairs away from a young woman two sizes to big for the chair she's squeezed herself into.
Something is wrong with the guy in the corner.
The room is eerily quiet.
I'm anxious. Four of us sit in this small lobby. Coffee table offers an ample amount of distraction via some celebrity mishap. If I were to venture a guess, no one will pick up a magazine, for fear of being seen as unprofessional.
Dress code set firmly at business.
Yet, I see:
Slacks, unironed.
Shoes, unpolished.
Jewelry, possibly stolen from a local community theatre.
I am judging all. They are judging me.
We pretend we're doing nothing of the sort.

Unfolding You in Me

I'm a flurry of memories, encapsulated by flesh.
You have seen me only briefly.
I occupy a tiny portion of your memory.
Sifting through those thoughts, those memories others have of me.
Could I accumulate enough to grasp who I am?
A melting pot of my brief encounters with you, you and you.
Would I be a different person?
My perception altered, born anew.

These (I Cannot Control)

Shuffling down the hall I hang a left.
Turn my monitor on. Bum positioned just so in floral cloth covered chair. Feet propped up on my sub woofer.
Log on.
I see her name and my chest tightens.
She's making reference to past events. Things that happened before I crashed your party.
I feel left out and green.
This tight, clenching, almost suffocating feeling is unexpected and unwarranted.
I know this.
I can't control this.
I don't like this.
This computer, this chair, this constant glow.
I will take comfort in knowing that this glow is one of the few things that I can control.

Solar Snow Exposure

Small things will take me back.
Tonight, it was the crunch of newly fallen snow under the sole of my Sorel. I looked down half expecting to be transported to the home I resided in a year ago.
Larry was hanging from a hook I would think a planter once hung. I'd poke him as I puffed my Camel cigarette and glanced down at my wine glass, making sure there would be enough elixir to get me through another heater.
It was cold out but I had the shelter of a small entry way and the imaginary warmth gently swirling in my right hand. I didn't need a jacket.
I had the comfort of being alone.
Few would see the interior. Few would see my well lit Christmas tree.
Larry hung outside. Oblivious to the warmth within. He didn't belong with me either.
This year,I endure the cold.