Posted in Word Prompt

Writer’s Cold … Stupid Plane/Traffic in LA

This is a repost of something I posted in Oct. 2017. I can’t think of anything right now, not even a de facto cute “I have a mild case of writer’s stuffiness (I won’t even call it block)” post. 

Stupid Plane/Traffic in LA/Writer’s Block

There’s stuff in my head,
But it’s trapped,
Held together
By an epic roadblock.
Like the traffic in LA,
Which I would know about,
If I’d gotten on the stupid plane.
Wouldn’t you know it,
I love flying.
I love staring out the window,
Watching the world go by.
I think flying over the Italian Alps
Was my favorite so far.
But I still don’t like the traffic
In LA
I get frustrated every time I’m there,
And scream and curse at the weird
Random highway lights
(what’s the point, it’s all jacked up anyway)
Also, why is there a subway system,
If no one uses it?
I just don’t understand,
The traffic in LA,
Which I would have told you sooner
If I had gotten on the stupid plane.

Posted in Word Prompt

The After

The silence is the most mesmerizing piece of this puzzle. It grows harder every day to remember just how noisy the world once was. Planes, trains, cars? Do I even remember those things? They’re vague memories now, things that existed in the before.

This is the after.

This is different.

Before … before I could tell you the sound of my father’s bike. I could hear it’s roaring engine, feel the vibrations and wind whipping through my clothes even before I saw it.

After … in the after I struggle to describe just how loud, just what pitch. In the after I can no longer hear the engine grumble to life in my dreams.

No longer do I look both ways before crossing streets.

No longer do I worry for the constant distractions of phones forever connected to everyone yet no one.

It’s been fifteen years since we crossed the line from the before to this silent space, this after.

Ten since I’ve seen more than two people together.

Four since I’ve seen anyone at all.

Until yesterday.

She can’t be more than five. She came barreling out of the thickets, matted hair and a ripped night gown.

Surely she belongs to someone.

She speaks.

She sings.

At first she spoke not to me but to the trees, the sky, the birds. She asked them if I was the one.

I couldn’t leave her, the wild dogs would devour her for a snack.

Then she spoke to me.

“I came here on a plane.”

Posted in Word Prompt

Stupid Plane/Traffic in LA/Writer’s Block

There’s stuff in my head,
But it’s trapped,
Held together
By an epic roadblock.
Like the traffic in LA,
Which I would know about,
If I’d gotten on the stupid plane.
Wouldn’t you know it,
I love flying.
I love staring out the window,
Watching the world go by.
I think flying over the Italian Alps
Was my favorite so far.
But I still don’t like the traffic
In LA
I get frustrated every time I’m there,
And scream and curse at the weird
Random highway lights
(what’s the point, it’s all jacked up anyway)
Also, why is there a subway system,
If no one uses it?
I just don’t understand,
The traffic in LA,
Which I would have told you sooner
If I had gotten on the stupid plane. 


As a note, I’m still working on my post for The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch this week but we have some great other ones up, so go check them out! Mine should be up tomorrow