welcome to my world of written word.
by c.h.ha
my smile, my secret
June 29th, 2006 by Christine
People ask me why
I have that sly smile on my face.
I say,
“Because I’d rather be sleeping,
But my husband paid a fortune for this
No-good artist to paint my portrait.
“Because I’m sick of sitting still
While this fool stares at me
Pretending he’s creating some masterpiece.
“Because the humidity is turning my hair
Into a nappy frizz.
“Because I can’t breathe
With my [...]
my walk across western europe in summer ‘01
June 27th, 2006 by Christine
I emerge from the Underground.
Soul-shaking beats blast from chipped speakers.
Purple mohawk and chains push past my shoulder
As I pound the uneven streets of Camden.
My legs are longing while in London.
Plaid kilts dance around fuzzy knees.
Stoic castle looms over doors of dark pubs.
Twirling cold mist settles on my lashes
As I stroll along the tumbling green hills.
My [...]
ode to cup o’ noodle
June 26th, 2006 by Christine
Look at you,
Standing there in your
Pretty white styrofoam dress,
Gold and scarlet ink
Embroidering your name.
Your salience against the
Dense Hamburger Helpers and
Bland Campbell’s soups
Makes you my obvious choice.
In three minutes,
You’ll put a smile on my face.
I think about how
You’ve always been there for me,
Ready to fill my emptiness
With your delicious delight.
I push your paper hat back
To glimpse [...]
gai *
June 14th, 2006 by Christine
She sways her hips
But never catches the beat,
Wears a short black skirt,
Faded with seams unraveling,
Her age hidden beneath
Caked powder and blood lipstick.
She slinks on over to the Westerner.
Seduction
In the flick of her wrist,
In the turn of her shoulder,
In the wink of her eye.
He follows her across the empty dance floor,
Up the hotel stairs,
Into an anonymous [...]
lakewood, california
June 11th, 2006 by Christine
After the bell echoes freedom,
We shuffle along the street.
Down four blocks,
Between the giant maples,
Behind the stony table,
Next to the rusty trashcan.
We sit, our legs crossed.
Your purple lips wrap ‘round the metal pipe,
And your caterpillar eyebrows wrinkle when I say,
“No thanks.”
As your eyes turn from clear white to murky pink,
I listen to your rants about Bubba.
I [...]