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Upbringing

small southern town
Norman Rockwell setting
picket fences
the whole bit
ideal for raising a family
good smells coming from kitchen
baking and cooking
no air conditioning
somehow we survived
neighbors friendly
ready to lend a helping hand if needed
sit with the sick
pitch in a hundred different ways
thus was the disposition
of my small southern town

sounds too good to be true
huh
it was
at least for me

I was never hungry
always had clean clothes to wear
sometimes handmade
still . . .
they were clean
I also had a mother
who should never have been a mother
my childhood
one long terror-induced affair
beat down at every turn
physically
mentally too
you can be anything you want to be
she used to say
what she meant was
I could be anything I wanted to be
as long as it was what she wanted me to be
I went to school
bearing beating marks
no one said anything
that made it worse
them looking right through me
I was ashamed
thought they were sniggering behind my back
I think they were

ah
it has been so long
why not just let it go
people say
can’t do that
damaged for life

©December 3, 2010 / Jerry Pat Bolton

Yesterday’s Musing

Some things come to you
when you are alone
with your thoughts
and the sun is setting through your window.

Like now.

I am with my thoughts
of yesterday.
She is small
fragile looking.
I am not.
She came to me for solace
. . . wanted more.
Said,
I want you,
covered my mouth with
sweeter than candy store lips
trembling, goosebumps all over her
part worry, part want
Please,
don’t say you love me.
Just need me.
Licked my cheek with tenderness
found my
throat and then caressed a nipple
nipping it
almost too hard
moaning like cats purr
plying my body
with more than a zillion kisses.
Guided my hand inside her blouse
her pride
feminine pride
soft, oh so soft . . . breasts
hardening button nipple.
Close your eyes
let me lay hands on you.
Wind puffing through open window
cool on my fevered body
her
finger hot, sizzling to the touch
moving over and under and around
clefts and crevasses of me.
Stand, she urged.
I did.
Pealed cotton jockeys
to my ankles
put finger on my chest
pushed me onto the bed
massaged my feet
remarkable
never knew about that erogenous zone
but
she did
shimmed up me like
a spider monkey up a tree
mouth claimed possession
then and there
for awhile
soft whimpers of her lust
sang a cappella
further up she inched
rose like an apparition
straddled her stallion for the night
rode
until the dawn of civilization broke
through the window.

Sometimes the past
comes alive
at the oddest moments.

©March 13, 2005 / Jerry Pat Bolton

You, Forevermore

I remember a sense of paralytic seizures
taking hold on my physical self like a pit bull
something crawled the stone steps into my throat
affecting my ability to communicate

it’s worse when I’m not around you
that’s when I begin to see you everywhere
my toast and coffee in the morning
remind me of your steamy breath and brown skin

you grace all the billboards of my mind
sexy mamma or the Doris Day girl next door
you’re smiling at me from every passing car
at sunset you beckon to me from the west

I’ve learned to resist your alluring lure
I’ve learned your heart distorts the love I gave
I’ve learned mind over matter when you appear
I’ve learned to never allow me to lust for you

still, I see you every day of my life
I close my eyes you come to me in dreams
you take my body and do what you will
I am ashamed you can possess me so

the daily images of you  is almost at an end
as I trudge up the Mississippi River Bridge
I take a deep breath look into the dark below
knowing you’ll be waiting for me when I leap

©December 2, 2010 / Jerry Pat Bolton