I paint. I write. I do ridiculous shit that no one should ever do. I try to embrace everything that comes my way and make a good time out of it.

 

Red Light by Gabriel Gadfly

You said you wanted
me to come over,
and even though it
was nearly midnight,
I agreed.

I hit every red light
between here and
your house: start
stop wait and wait
and wait and start
just to stop and wait
again, stuck listening to
weight-loss infomercials,
right-wing talk radio,
that god-awful jingle
for the lawyer that
tries to sound like
a wild-west cowboy.

Idling under these red
cyclops eyes, I wanted
to tell you that this had
to stop, that I was going
home, that I’d see you
tomorrow, maybe,
but I finished the drive
and remembered why:
the red scent of your hair;
your lips against my neck,
saying,
“I’m glad you’re here.
I’m so glad you’re here.”

History of Rain

Sometimes I can feel it

when you kiss her

and I rinse my mouth out

of the horrible taste.

I remember your lips

but I can’t stand the thought

so I try to erase the image

with the blinding light of the sun.

On rainy days

I sit,

waiting for the sun to shine

so the image of you

smiling in the rain

while holding out your hand

will vansih

and a greater image of the future

will appear.

You are my past,

my history,

although you wish

not to believe it.

Farewell bearded one.

-Monica Adams 2011