1
carry silver coins in your pouch, a spoon
behind your ear. you'll never have to beg,
steal or borrow, and you are always only
one reflection away from a familiar face.
2
don't speak unless spoken to.
uncalled-for words reverberate out of control,
wake up your host moments before salvation.
3
avoid the sandman. you'll know him by his
eyes, a wicked habit of smothering vivacity.
if you fall asleep, dream within a dream,
thorny hedges will grow thick around you.
4
accept no food, you don't know where
it's been. do you think these people chose
to run on the spot, feet frantic, failing?
5
stay away from the seashore.
waves may look like cotton candy,
but there's an edge to them, resolve
to grab your ankles, stain them black.
6
if bubbles emerge from your mouth,
follow them, soar. touching ground makes
the earth quake, whole galaxies collapse.
7
do not kiss anybody. diligent lab rats
will find your lip prints, pale vermilion
as the ghost of love, puzzle endlessly
over the texture of your foreign mouth.
along with the appetisers, titbits of cheese and grapes, pricked
and speared by bored toothpicks, they offered me this man.
manners are really not what they used to be, nowadays it's all chip
and charge, no one has time for dumplings, watercress garlands.
had it not been for his frog eyes, the frightening curve of his
nose, i might have overlooked the faux pas of olive stockings.
even so, you have no idea what really hot means, breaking
into a sweat at first contact, and the smell, the smell!
perhaps levitra cookies, viagra burgers might cure his shocking
dress sense, the need to rub his hands up and down my arm.
quite endearing, your total lack of self-control, your insistence on
misinterpretation. the cookie monster could help, handles and all.
he said his sister dances the fandango on fridays, behind fuchsia walls,
torn veil dragging on concrete floor. appalling how f-words induce ptyalism.
wait until the women's institute hears of this, they'll scratch out your
lifeline, classify you as ****SPAM****, perhaps take me away on parole.
jotting a fake phone number - bell-bottomed sixes, headstrong nines -
brought out his squint and he crossed himself in all the wrong places.
i understand craving for latex gloves, ripples on a sunday surface.
whatever your score, leave me out of this, don't say i didn't warn you.
when the black-haired girl swung in through double doors with an aura
of aphrodisiacs gone haywire, i dipped chocolate in chili sauce and ran.
there's always something at the bottom of things, perhaps a bag
to trip up the assassins. they'll come. the great suspender will snap.
--for my father
how lucky:
every summer, papa took you
to italy, day trips stumbled into
straight out of bed.
slightly nauseous, your brother
traded cards with you in the back seat,
then mother joined in the games: I spy,
I spy … her voice almost happy.
starched collars pinched
all the way to the beach - the ultimate
stretch of freedom, the promise of sand
between toes for days to come.
in the afternoon, ice-cream
on the promenade, mother watching
every step; you were too busy
competing with the greedy sun.
pale red rivulets meandered across
your fingers and palms, dripping
sticky trails onto tarmac, like
hansel and gretel's lifeline.
papa always bought a toy,
some state of the art gadget you'd
show off to the boys; another ritual
before the long drive home.
all those days ended the same way:
you were late for bed, too noisy.
papa beat you, all seaside softness
gone out of his face.
you'd try not to blink, murmur
ice cream flavour mantras,
a memory of the breeze
still salty in your hair.
Michaela A. Gabriel (1971) lives in Vienna, Austria, where she assists adults in acquiring computer and English skills, and gets together with the muse as often as possible. She has been published in English, German, Italian, and Polish, both online and in print. Her first chapbook, "apples for adam", was published by FootHills Publishing in January 2005. When she is not writing, she is reading, listening to music, watching movies, blogging, communicating with friends, playing tennis or travelling – usually several of these at the same time. Check out her web page, http://members.chello.at/michaela.a.gabriel, and her blog, http://moonie71.blogspot.com.