FATAL ATTRACTION

The wide blanket that covers it all,

I have a heart for you.

The dream has always been

to ride the skin that is your game,

The sad markings thrown away.

In any climate I make a vow:

I will not change my quest for you,

Your lullabies that bring on sleep.

I leave my gift at your doorstep.

I have no more appetite for loss.

This pales before your promises,

The great defeat of unhappiness

That trails along a cool white sheet

With whispers down an avenue.

Between your pear-like breasts

I lay my head

I lay aside my childish scorn

In you I will be torn

Outside of time and flesh,

An exquisite Nothingness.

You are always there

In the glare and in the dream.

From your constant womb of white

The perfect crown of a perfect life

You beckon to watery steps

With an air of indifference,

Or down into the arms of earth

Where we relinquish our flimsy truths

Of the noises that were us

The stances and the spasms spent

on happenstance.

You open your legs to this.

It is your fragrance that overcomes

my weariness.

In the dream I have seen

Your lipstick is reminiscent:

The smile.

I am afraid.

Outside of myself I watch myself

In my drugged state

Tethered to another life,

A weaker life,

I shudder.

You fade, removed page by page.

Over oceans of time,

You disappear.

I am clear

And alone.

It is another day:

I watch the sun rise.

HAIR PAIN

RON’S WISDOM SALONA fictional advice column

Dear Ron,
My problem is this: I cannot get my hair cut right. I tell my barber to stop at the point where it looks to be the right length. Okay. So what happens? I walk outside, catching my reflection in shop windows and  feeling pretty good about the length. Next I go home and take a shower and shampoo. What that does, believe it or not, is make my hair seem a lot shorter than it was in all those shop windows.

And this less- than-hairy look is something I have to live with for the next week or so, which causes my digestive juices to circulate so horribly that I am forever expelling gas. PLEASE don’t tell me to have my barber stop cutting sooner. I did that last time and had the problem of overhairiness, which was just as painful. I don’t know anymore what to say to my barber. (which has caused another problem, but not to go there at this juncture)

Hair Horror

Dear Hair,

Hair can be horrible –no doubt  about it. Why do we have hair at all is the question I have been asking myself since the age of six. I finally found the answer in my 65th year: We have inherited it from our simian ancestors. Apparently it is a way for animals to protect themselves from the elements. Big deal! I mean it’s cold, you jump into a pair of woollen long ones, right? No need to have hairy legs.

The same for the head. Wrap a scarf around it and travel. What in the world is the point of hair? Itches, becomes a snowstorm when you scratch that makes you  resemble Christmastime in a fairytale. Washing it takes forever and you always get shampoo in out of the way places. You dry it, it blows every which way but the right one. Then it sticks up where you don’t want it to and flattens out when you don’t want it to. It changes colour and nobody told it to. And it’s the first damn thing you see when you look at somebody. You are always comparing thicknesses.

If I had the ear of Mother Nature, I would ask her to do away with the pesky problem altogether. Just leave us with a nice smooth surface and be done with it. But She, knowing women, would probably be too busy at the beauty parlour to give me a straight answer. About your problem? I am just too agitated about the wider question to give you responsible guidelines at the moment. My hair is such a mess! Forgive me, Hair.

I know this didn’t help.

DREAM DIARY

I am teaching an Adult ESL class. There are not many students present. Anita is there. She and I are simulating an argument between a couple in order to generate a conversation on this by the students later in English. One of the students, a middle-aged woman interrupts and states that she objects to this exercise and wants to leave. We stop. I think about the situation. I do not have anything else I wish to start and there is about an hour left in the class. I tell her if she does not like it to just go. At this point, other students who were absent show up, including a man I like very much. The woman who wanted to leave suddenly gets very angry. She approaches me and puts a hand on my chest, poking it. I tell her plainly that if she does not stop this she will regret it, but she continues. I grab her hair and see her face actually fall apart into pieces. I am horrified. The dream ends.

MY SERIAL KILLER BOYFRIEND IS TOO NICE

RON’S WISDOM SALONA fictional advice column

Dear Ron,

I have a problem that I would like to ask you about.  I have a new boyfriend and we have been together for like about  a month and a half and the thing is we never argue. Maybe people say that is a good thing, but I am kinda worried.

Is it normal to never argue?  I like a good argument. It airs things out and makes you feel light afterward. I love him (kinda) and I think we have a future together. He is likable with a good personality and he thinks about the future. He says he wants to be a serial killer someday. What would you say our chances are?

Mariko

Dear Mariko,

You have a boyfriend with whom you never argue and you wonder whether that is a problem. Well, it can be if you are the kind of person who likes to argue and he won’t engage you.  There is nothing more frustrating for an arguer who is in the mood for a good dust up than to have nobody to dust up with.

We tend to think we can always find something to disagree about with a person and then this person doesn’t take the bait. What can you do about this?

I would find out what he really doesn’t like and then go to work to provoke him about it. Go out of your way to make him miserable and angry.

The fact that he wants to be a serial killer tells you that eventually he will react in a negative way, which is just what you need.  He may even try to kill you at some point, but then you will know finally that you can be compatible.

Don’t let him kill you, of course, but explain to him that you appreciate him for conflicting with you, and then try to make it work out between you.  That seems like the only reasonable procedure.

Good luck, and I hope this helps.

Dear Ron,

I did like you said. I went into the basement room where he lives and I kinda messed up his torture kit.

This got him upset , but he he didn’t express it in an unpleasant way. He just dropped his habitual smile and explained to me quietly that he would prefer it if “you kept your paws off my equipment.” Then he offered me a glass of grape juice. I knew that I was in the wrong, so I apologized. Then we had sex. Still no real arguments though.

Mariko

Dear Mariko,

You are not taking it far enough.  You could have pushed him on the “paws” comment, angrily rebutting that “these here appendages are no paws, certainly not, they are clearly enough two human hands.” He might’ve gone for that one.

You could also have challenged him about his living quarters, berating him for living in a basement, which is just as likely to make him into a cliché in his future career. You need to pick up on anything that will push his buttons. Keep trying.

Dear Ron,

I finally hit on something that worked. He invited me to his mother’s house for dinner, and after it was all over we were walking back to his basement when I told him what a nice person his mother was.

Well, that was the wrong thing to say apparently, because he hit the ceiling, calling himself cursed for coming out of her womb, that she had made his life hell itself, and that I was just like her, that is a female. I was so happy to see him get angry that I got angry too and we spat and yelled at each other for twenty minutes. Then we had sex. So thanks for making me pursue it, Ron.

Dear Mariko,

Excellent. The point here is that everyone has an Achilles’ heel, which you obviously noticed during your walk to his basement.

LIFE WITH YOU

You are the blood in my every thought and motion

The essence of my dream

Your voice echoes softly in my sleep

You are the morning star to me

Your face is round and pretty

A mask of the sun

Even if I am almost over

I have only just begun

Our love has not been easy

The way has been obscure

We tried so many times to undo

What we were never sure

The future is your forté

You pursue it like a bitch

Will we go together

Into that abyss

Is this just a dream of love

Is it really real

Can I ever express to you

What I really feel

My heart is so weary

My mind is so upset

Though I have no regret

For what hasn’t happened yet

Will we meet again one day

On that special hill

And play again like children

Which we were once well

If not

It is just as good to be old with you

And mope and rub away our aches and pains

Many times or few

And have a word with you

As you go here and there

Tearing up the scenery

While I stay in the square

You know time is relentless

It takes you for a ride

Remember that beach we knew

Remember that morning tide

I wish us together there

In the early air

We join the endless ocean

Beautiful and fair

Our love means more than

Days and nights

Our lives are not just

Bits and bytes

Come

It is already light

Please

I don’t want to fight