Now What?
Kelly Stevenson Reed
Now, What?
By Kelly Stevenson Reed
Copyright @ Kelly Stevenson Reed 2013
“A Blank Page” and “Before the Fall” were published in the Fall 2010 issue of “The Greensilk Journal”.
“Glide” was published in the November 2010 issue of “Foliate Oak Literary Magazine” and “The Best of Foliate Oak Online, 2011”.
“The List” was published in the Fall 2011 issue of “The Greensilk Journal”.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
A Blank Page
Glide
I Remember
The List
City Girl
Truth in Action Gift Cards
Seventies
Do Have Muriel Back
Unspoken
Final Legalities
My Voice Cried Without Me
Life in the Margins
Love/Hate
Disappointment
Morning Conversation
Spring Cleaning
Before the Fall
Melodramatic Love
One Day Soon
A Blank Page
A blank page – oh – every blank page is a promise, an exciting world of possibilities.
A blank page could be a painting, a drawing, a sketch, a caricature, an editorial, an article, an opinion, an investigation, a review, a play, a sketch, a short story, a novel, a line or a sentence, a poem, a history, an explanation, a set of instructions, a design, a record, an illustration, one single frame of animation, one possible shot in a film, a script, a stage direction, a monologue – all that and more, in a single blank page.
Oh God – I get excited just thinking about it – all that is there, just waiting for you to add to that world of possibilities.
You can cut that blank page and make something out of it. You can fold it and make something else. You can curve it and make even more. Or you can ball it up and throw away opportunity.
But look at it. Look at it, just sitting there, crying out to be filled, screaming at you – use me!
Use me – I don’t care how – a recipe, a grocery list, a diary, a guide, a prayer, a sermon, a pact, a printout.
Use me! Don’t let me just sit there – don’t let me just fade away.
Because fade I will, used or not, and who wants to be useless?
Who wants to be forgotten?
Use me. You will never regret it. You will never regret it.
Glide
So you just glide
And you fit in with all the weirdoes
and the geeks and the nerdy types
And you fit in with all the artists and artistes
So you can still converse with all the intellectuals
and scholarly types
So you can still understand them from the hood
And you can talk to conservatives
And still be understood by liberals
And you can have a little cake
And save some and eat it too
So you can talk movies and TV until they come out on DVD
And read every newspaper you can find all online
And include the obscure and a few bestsellers too
Glide
People are so eager to take the world
And start putting others into little boxes
Outsmart those folk with the holes you poke
Become another of the paradoxes
And you can talk about all the stuff that you’ve never seen
And be a creative chameleon and conundrum - all in one step
Just glide
Your way around a cultural map - with no directions
Glide
With every part of yourself
Just glide
And be every part of yourself
I Remember
My phone number. Today I forgot my own phone number. Wow.
I can remember what it was like to enter kindergarten, and the fact that I cried when my mother left me there. I can remember my first bike ride without training wheels, and the day I wore the first high heels that I felt comfortable in.
I can remember the first time I saw E.T., Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Star Wars.
I remember being deliberately tripped by a boy in the snow after school in second grade.
I can remember what the dust looked like in a sunbeam, when I was very young, and first noticed it.
I can remember where ‘Klaatu barada nikto’ came from, and what happens after Helen says it.
I can remember my first time going to Second City, my first play, and the first play that I went to see that I really wanted to see (Dracula).
I can remember my favorite episodes of The Dick Van Dyke Show, The Odd Couple, and The Andy Griffith Show, some of the shows I would watch every day after school.
I remember the first book I read, by myself, that was over a hundred pages (Charlotte’s Web)! And how long it took me to read it. (Less than one week, during school).
I remember when I first got my period, and not being shocked, or worried, or even more mature, but thinking more along the lines of, ‘now what?’
I remember where Andy Dufresne tells Red to meet him after he gets out of prison (Zihuatanejo).
I remember my first cat, and my second cat, and all of the cats that I’ve had that led up to the one I have now.
I remember when I first heard Gershwin, Pink Floyd, and the first time I really, really, listened to Frank Sinatra sing.
I can remember my first long road trip out of Chicago, and how I was actually kind of freaked out by being surrounded by farm land (“But there’s nothing there! NOTHING!”).
I remember my first plane ride, my first drink, my first train trip, and my first time behind the wheel of a car.
I remember my first date, my first kiss, and the first time I made love.
I can remember what I ate last Tuesday for breakfast, what I did two weeks ago after dinner, and when I started and stopped my last diet.
I can remember my late grandmother’s phone number, my first dorm room number, and my last blood pressure number (124/89. Not bad).
But I can’t remember my own phone number. Go figure.
The List
Okay, I’m dressed
Don’t forget
• watch
• ring
• iPhone (turn it on)
And don’t forget
• my son’s violin
• my son’s music folder
• my son’s music book
• my son’s art assignment
• my notebook
• the forms that I’m supposed to give to whomever
• my folder so I can keep track of the forms that I’m supposed to give to whomever
Now get in the car, and let’s go
First I have to pick up
• my son
• the friend that I promised to give a ride to wherever
• some cash
• some stamps for the letters I forgot to mail
• the stuff I forgot to get at the store last time
Then I hurry there
Now it’s time to
• sit
• shop
• read
• stop
• read a book while I’m waiting
• watching them participating
• finding things to do
• doing things to do
• go online on my phone
• watch the lesson
• listen to music
• get involved, while making sure I don’t embarrass myself too much
And now some small talk (I hate small talk, but here we go)
• Hi!
• How are you? (I’m fine)
• Oh really?
<
br /> • I don’t know
• That’s
- cute
- funny
- strange
- nice
- good
- too bad
And now it’s time to go, don’t forget
• where I’m going next
• to tell him or her
• what I’m doing here
• my place
• what’s going on
Good bye
• good night
• see you next week
• oh yeah, a hugger
No, I won’t forget
• the whatever you just told me
• the news
• to pray
So long
City Girl
I like glass and steel and concrete,
with little parks carefully landscaped between them.
Asphalt, with trees breaking through in neat little rows between the curbs.
Gardens, freshly packed away in careful corners or squared plots,
controlled, tamed, restricted.
Nature confined, streets rule, a new order,
no matter how temporary and delusional.
Even the dandelions and grass through the cracks seem to know their place.
Tall buildings temper and terrorize them,
“We’ll have none of that here.”
It can be very comforting, a view from the tenth floor,
and all the tiny boxes that you have to travel through just to get there.
You are never really alone.
There’s always someone else traveling through the mazes with you.
The hiss of a bus lulls me to sleep,
The rhythm of a passing car – the marks of time.
The occasional sirens – reassuring, they’re on the job.
And you wake to a view that no one else has.
Watch the seasons change above the treetops
And the storms approaching in the distance.
The taste of the city is in my blood – I can’t escape it – I don’t want to.
Truth In Action Gift Cards
Birthday for Wife:
I know that I can relay be an insensitive, obnoxious, jerk sometimes, and there are times I really just want you to go away, but today’s your birthday, so this is your card. And no, I didn’t get you any flowers.
Birthday for Husband:
I can act like a spoiled, two-year old, and I really get mad at you when I don’t get my way, whether you have something to do with it or not, but today’s your birthday, so this is your card. And make your favorite dinner? Yeah, right.
Birthday for Boss:
Nobody really likes you, probably because you’re the boss and all, so, no, we’re not taking you out, or anything like that. Not with our salaries. As a matter of fact, we’re just using this whole thing as an excuse to go home early. But today is your birthday, so this is your card.
Birthday for Grandparent:
Happy birthday, Grandpa/Grandma - now I hope this means I’m being nice enough so that you get me a really great present for my birthday, which of course, is way more important to me. But today is your birthday, and this is your card. Spend time with you? Are you kidding?
Birthday for Child:
Here you go, kid, and stop bothering me so much about getting you stuff for your birthday. You got something wrapped over there, but I sure as hell don’t know what it is. But today is your birthday, and this is your card. Cake? Ice-cream? With my cholesterol?
Anniversary Card:
Happy - what is it again? Oh yeah, anniversary. You can probably tell how little this means to me. Even so, I hope you and what-his/her/name have an amazing time. Because this is your anniversary, and this is your card.
Seventies
I wonder if growing up in the seventies did something weird to me.
After the binge of the sixties, it was the hangover decade.
Keep it quiet, hush, calm down,
and let’s not talk about all that stuff that we just did anymore.
Let’s just keep things peaceful and pleasant,
calm and soothing,
and have a nice day.
You got the sense that you’d just missed a really great party
- one for the ages.
But instead, you get to witness the hangover.
Please shush, leave me alone, go away.
It’s time for me,
I need to recover,
savor the memories.
Tiptoeing around, while your parents sleep it off,
not an easy way to be a child,
not an easy way to raise yourself.
When they woke up, it was time for disco.
A bit of playtime before the next decade.
It’s funkadelic, alright.
Ready for the next binge.
Do Have Muriel Back
Do take Muriel out
But please have her back by three
At least for tea
Oh, and they did rescue that
drowning man
When they finally figured out just what
the hell was going on
What Muriel wants,
Muriel will eventually get
But not with a lover’s embrace
or a warm welcome
Just with the slow, rhythmic march of time
Unspoken
Life isn’t usually a free-flowing dialogue, full of witty comments and timely retorts.
Rather it can be full of weird, awkward pauses, of misunderstandings, miscommunications, and simply not getting each other.
Hoping you say the right thing, hoping that there is a right thing to say, looking for what people really mean when they say, what they say.
Some people are so close to the surface that they are blinding. Others live entirely in the subtext, a collection of so many obscure references, that maybe only one or two people will ever get what they say.
We spend so much time wanting other people to like us, to get us, to listen to us.
We are all perfectly articulate, witty, funny, and smart in the narratives running in our own little minds.
We are all the stars of our own movies.
All of our ideas are always perfectly understandable to us.
But they can become a jumbled mishmash when we say them aloud.
Words. I wonder how we can stand them.
Final Legalities
I can claim no public restitution
For I have mostly been as I am
I can claim no specific reparations
No one can say they legally owe me anything
For all of my pain and public humiliations
Embarrassment was the only price
And as there were no actual conflagrations
Damages were limited, and at no price
There was no harm inflicted on any persons
Besides the injured party, namely, me
There will be no further extraneous excursions
Or any other legal proceedings requiring a fee
All incurred costs will be provided
By the funds and monies in the estate
By now, all financial demands will have subsided
No other calls for recompense will take place
There are no other liabilities
Responsibilities are all mine
No more desire for any more niceties
Or need to levy any other fines
But for all of these well-timed declarations
And no matter how much I seem to acquiesce
Regardless of the self-inflicted suffering
I still remain dead, nonetheless.
My Voice Cried Out Without Me
My voice cried out without me
I was asleep at the time
The sound of it echoed around the world
When the sound came back to me
I didn’t understand it
I tried to talk to her and she said something back
But it was so soft I couldn’t hear
She said it again, a tiny bit louder
Her voice resembling mine
I felt bad because I still didn’t get it
But I nodded as if I did
Hey, why’d you move my water glass?
I wasn’t done with that yet, I’m still as dry as a bone
He looked back over his shoulder and said something
I didn’t understand it
I think he was too far away
It was the sound of my own voice again
Yelling in the dark
Life in the Margins
I made a pretty good life
In the margins
It’s left unspoken
I’m usually out of the frame
Not that I’m bad looking
They just don’t remember my name
It’s not really a bad thing
A little sad at times, it’s true
Oh, that is absolutely dazzling
Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean you
It’s not that they don’t see
People just forget that you’re there
You can be as odd as you want to be
When you see they don’t care
You can be whatever you want
When you aren’t the main subject
You can handle every taunt
Just make sure you’re not the object
There’s nothing wrong with life
In the margins
Love/Hate
I know you well
I’ve seen it so often
I love you, but I can’t stand you at the same time
You love to reject the things I love
You relish it
If you can do it in public that’s bonus points
You like to be with me today
Tomorrow you just want me to go away
You really, really like me and
You can’t stand the sight of me
Oh we had so much fun that
The very idea of my existence irritates you
Push pull kiss slap
All compliments are backhanded
A private foible shared between friends
Becomes a public joke the next day
A joke, a laugh, then quiet grins
Becomes a reason to kick me away
