Dancing in the moonlight


Dancing in the moonlight

My heart is sweeping

Through memory of his arms

Drifting through the fog

His scent is left as a kiss

Twirling with the falling leaves

Howl in the distance

Caresses my heart

Dampness leaves my being

Warmth surges through my soul

Music wafts through the fog

Serenading my heart

I settle in upon his grave

Kissing the ground where he sleeps

One day across the rainbow bridge

we will meet to continue our dance


Hollows Light

Hollows light

Some lurk within the dark

looming to see whom to devour

A whisper comes down from above

On angel wings a feather of love

Glimmer of light in the distance

Hope is the springboard of faith

escaping the darkness of hate

Things which go bump in the night

Only brings death and blight

Rip through the darkness

Relinquish the druids influence

Light the path with choices of peace

Remember love is gifted with grace

Never again celebrate the darkness

Only dance in the light of truth


The Courtesy Basket

By Christine Swiderski website

I saved up my penny’s as did my girlfriends. We normally get together at the local pub. Girls night once a year just to blow out our frustrations. We each have our own nucleolus lives. Some were married, stay at home moms. Others professional women using either day care or family. We have a hold out within our clutch, a single professional woman.

Our pennies went for a lavish hotel with a concierge. We jokingly chose the bridal suite. To our delight, it came with a courtesy basket.

Champagne, chocolates, condoms, caviar, crackers, cheese. 2 dozen roses were set on a table. Of course, we all brought our alcohol of choice. First on the list is a nice meal. This hotel has a 5-star restaurant. We made reservations for our room and the restaurant. We each dressed to the nines. Moseyed down to the restaurant. We gave our waiter a hard time. Paul was sweet about it. We told him we wanted an accent. We laughed when he came back with broken Spanish. I was waiting for him to say “Drop the Chalupa.”

After dinner, we meandered through the shops off the lobby. Once back to the room we each crawled into our most comfortable garments and got down to the business of blowing off steam.

By the time we got to the condoms we were in rare form. The balcony off the bridal suite works well for water balloons, but we decided not to do it that way. Not wanting to get thrown out. Instead, we took them down one floor. Laid them down where we thought an unsuspecting patron would step on them. As we huddled down the hall out of sight, the one who got the short straw knocked on doors. Nearly all of them splat out corresponding with expletives. It was all we could do to get back to our room without being noticed.

Finally, we started to short out. Ever so slowly one by one we fell asleep dreaming of massages and chocolate covered strawberries.

The dream suddenly turned into a nightmare. I heard screams as I tried to leap out of bed a wet towel hit my backside. I turned to find a man laughing the towel coming in for another swat. I jumped out of the way screaming. While trying my escape I took what was left in my glass and threw it at the perpetrator. It landed dead center, leaving a cut. He yelped but kept coming. Next thing I saw were the backsides of 6 guys leaving our room. Just before the door closed one poked his head back in and said: “Next time you girls want to leave condom balloons out for people to step on let us know. We can fill them with dark red jello instead. The red seeps around the foot, leaving people thinking they stepped onto something dead.

With all the screaming and now uproarious laughter there was a knock at the door. We were asked to leave.

Groggily we packed our things, we were all saying it was worth it. Once we entered the lobby to exit the hotel, guys dressed in jeans and sweatshirts were leaving as well. As it turned out there was a bachelor party one floor down.

I walked up to the guy who came into my room. I asked him: “How did you get into our room?”

He answered: “The cleaning girl excepted a huge bribe. We each gave her $50.”

I said: “Whoa! At least we were not cheap.”

Walking out to the parking lot an agreement was struck we would all go to the nearest hotel that offers late night music and finish our respective outings.

I like how this courtesy basket is filling up handsomely with male companionship.

Joe Daugherty decided to cling onto me. He was amiable enough for a one-nighter. I wasn’t about to sleep with him even though he tried everything he could think of. I am glad he didn’t use the line “You have eyes like a lipid pool of water.” I would have barfed.

The following Monday at work I received roses from Joe. When I arrived home I received another dozen roses. Tuesday I received balloons at work. When I arrived home, another balloon bouquet. Gifts came that entire week. How he found out where I lived I wasn’t sure. The gifts came from one business. I stopped at the business and found that one of my co-workers gave out my address thinking this was a romantic thing to do. I will deal with that idiot on Monday.

I developed a plan in my head to get Joe off my back. I called all my single girlfriends that I could trust. I called Joe set a time and place to hook up.

We met for dinner and I suggested the hotel where we could spend the night together. We stopped at a liquor store. I knew from the night I met Joe he took drugs. I could not prove it that night but later found out his drug of choice was cocaine.

We arrived at the room I played along with the kissing and feeling up routine. Joe as I suspected, set out lines of cocaine and told me to give it a try. I said I never used others stash. I do not know or trust. I told him, he could do mine and his I brought my own. Mine was baking soda. Which I blew out into a tissue when he wasn’t looking. I added a mild sedative to his drink. Then I set the plan in motion. The next morning I woke Joe by crying out: “Oh my God Joe what did you do to her?”

He jumped up and yelled: “Who?”

I said: “ I think she is dead, the girl in the bathtub is dead.”

Joe ran into the bathroom, screamed. I ran in behind him shushing him. I told him not to make so much noise. We cannot be caught with a dead person. He started to panic. I did my best non-panic, holding it together act. He bought it. I told him I could get rid of the body. All he had to do is leave the hotel without being noticed. He did just that. To make it look good I had a friend bring a rolling laundry hamper. My friend Jill who played dead in the bathtub climbed in. I had all my stuff with me. We left the hotel through the service elevator.

A week later I learned from a mutual friend that Joe put himself into rehab.

I am sure he will never contact me again.

Wine glass 

Wine glass
Clear with a ring to it
Lips leave an imprint
Edge crisp nearly cutting
Drawing it’s blood like elxyir
Fermented reasoning
Draws you deep into its grasp
Will this hold last.
Breath steams a song and dance
Is this love or one night chance

Life as a Passenger

As a child, my father traveled most of my life. He was a truck driver. I look back on my childhood and see myself as a passenger. My mom kept herself busy working wool skeins of yarn. Talent, was in her fingers. Her creations sold like hot cakes.
Truckers named their trucks, some after long lost love, others for male prowess. My dad named his Zephyr. He loved driving, he always had the window cracked open allowing the gentle breeze to carry him to the next destination.
There was room in the back to sleep when the destination was more than a 12-hour drive he would park his rig and sleep for a few hours.
I was impressed with his ability to maneuver a route even when he was tired. In the summer the outside of his Zephyr was like an oven, yet the air conditioner was blasting and he still cracked the window open.
My guess is the cab of the truck was confining. The road was boundless. That is where he found his freedom. The boundless road.
My mom passed when I was 10. Dad had a large load which would take him across the country. He packed me up, we set out. I remember vividly driving along the seashore. Slapping waves, cool breeze off the ocean. I told myself this would be my zephyr when I grow up. I will move to California.
Now 20 years later looking back on my life, I realized if more people look at their lives as though they were passengers they would find their zephyrs.