Porcelain Dreams

[.Lucy.]

Porcelain Dreams
The plane lands,
and you pray, pray
You can hold it in. Make it to the hotel
before your intestines burst.

Why had you eaten that chicken piccata on the flight?
Damn that second screwdriver!

Was there a Dunkin Donuts close to the hotel?
You knew once you’d unloaded, you’d be craving an old fashioned donut
and black, rich coffee.

The luggage. Of course, the wait for that infernal baggage.

And here your bowels were making that odd gurgling noise,
that noise that implies more than your
strained face divulges.

The meeting. The huge meeting with national partners in 2 hours.

And here your stomach was so bloated,
your business suit needed to sawed off of you.

Welcome to Georgia!

The sign in front of you is meant to be welcoming,
but it simply reminds you
You are not home.

You know you want to wait until the hotel
to unleash the monster, the monster
that was ravishing through your lower extremities.
Mainly because you have the presentiment
that this will be an all-out event, an event of epic proportions.

You should have sent out invitations to it…

A sickly sloshing in your stomach.

LT
2-16-12

[Arcadia]

bienvenida a casa, Lucy!!!!

[.Lucy.]

Gracias Arcadia! Como estas?

[Arcadia]

oh.... fantastique!!!!!!!!!

[dadio]

Finely captured.

[joel]

Welcome to Georgia!

The sign in front of you is meant to be welcoming,
but it simply reminds you
You are not home.

This is a truth!

An awful bought of IBS in college...walking halfway across campus to my apartment, past the limitless hoards of springtime Colonial Williamsburg tourists, with a sticky, drippy load running down inside my pants legs (sorry, but the truth hurts), taught me the bravery of going wherever, whenever, necessary. Now, first day in a new workplace or wherever, I take myself into the bathroom, sit down and claim with a vengeance: Here I am and I will not hover, I will not shy away. I will take the poetic license to be the sole owner of this moment. I can always shower later....