Here's my favorite guest blogger again

Every once in a while I let Elliott buy some space on my blog to share some of his mind with the world. It's like a window into his soul. Sometimes it's sweet like the one he did about all of the women in his life. Other times the window opens up into a slightly darker place. I love him for all his places. Enjoy...

GrudgeGate

After the argument that you won
I would now like to enter an alternate universe
Through a door inside the lawnmower shed, where you never go
And leave behind my replacement – a perfect replica
Well, at least after a brief talk to tidy up the imperfections
And an exchange of clothes
He in my dirty blue college sweats, and I in his silver suit
And I would sit in a control room with an ergonomic chair and coffee
To watch you find me limp and wet, having slipped in the shower
Trying to better myself to your unreasonable standard

Yes, and through a little one-way window in the cemetery sky
I would watch you fall to your knees, in your black dress
Upon the red dirt and profess your apology to God and me
That point of true repentance would find my ergonomic chair spinning slowly
And me walking down the backstage stairs with a victorious bounce and a sly smile
To the door marked EXIT

I would emerge through the line of pointed cedars
Dressed in the dirty blue sweats that started the argument
But with a face of humility and change, and slight bewilderment, of course
Having gone through a mystery of time and space
We would embrace and both cry
But we would both know
That now I have the upper hand

Guest blogger

My name is Elliott. Today I am a blogger. This is a guest blog. I don't think I could ever be a good daily blogger because I am not a conversationalist. My thoughts dive too deep too often. I flip things around and analyze the underbelly of everything... which simply ruins romantic walks on the beach.

An essayist and a poet are closely related. One gives you a delightful meal, the other a cube of chocolate. Or an Altoid. Or a Lemonhead. You shouldn't eat too much. Can you imagine eating a bowlful of lemonheads? They'd find you in a puckered coma.

Anyway, I think I'll post a poem every so often here in Blogville. Pam said that would be okay. This one is for all you women. These are song lyrics. That's why there's a chorus...

These Women Of Ours


They can dance and fill our heads with twinkling stars
They can love and knock the edges off days long and hard
They can smile and give us a reason
To open these old stubborn hearts
Thank God for these women of ours


They can climb any ladder of so-called success
Take control, steal the show in a red satin dress
They can stand firm and stubborn against hell's better demons
Then fold at a handful of flowers
Thank God for these women of ours


Chorus:
We can climb up mount Everest, leave footprints in Moondust
But still, we'll never go higher
Than the love – just one woman's sweet soft love


Just one glance can change all our wild crazy plans
Just one kiss can tame any rambling man
Just one tear can melt us, render us helpless
One touch can set us on fire
We're all fools for these women of ours


Repeat Chorus


So I move that we bring back a few old-fashioned things
Tipping hats, opening doors, and giving up seats
And I hope you don't think I'm saying they're weak
It's a matter of honor not power
I just thank God for these women of ours


© 2007 Elliott Park