Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Green Tea Nails & Spa - Poem: Triscuit Views the Storm

They're a chain. While I was meditating this morning - and for the first time I enjoyed it - that's cuz I didn't say a mantra but listened to the sounds of the birds outside - I realized I must take my car in.

The "check engine" sign had been lit up for several days.

Tom Sawyer checked it immediately. Nothing wrong. The car simply needs to warm up.



While I prepared to get outa my car to go inside, a very nice lady, named Peg, opened my back door and placed her pocket book on the back seat.

"You're a very nice lady," I said. "But I'm afraid you made a mistake."

"Oh!" laffed the attractive 60-ish blond. "I thought you were my ride."

As I drove home, I passed by a nail salon.

It's now my new nail salon. The native-born Chinese people speak an English I can understand, altho among themselves they speak Chinese, a language I closed my eyes and listened to.

Tammy would not let me take her picture.

 The salon is b'ful. Soft music played.

My hands were freezing cold and Tammy tried to warm them up for me, plus you are given hot green tea.
Hard to see, but I'm wearing tin foil with acetone below to remove my gel nail polish.
 This was unbelievable.... you dip your hands in hot paraffin wax.
Have you seen the movie "The Monster with the Hands of Wax" starring Ruth Z Deming?


I told Tammy I would leave a Suggestion in the Suggestion Box.

Instead of Tootsie Rolls and lollipops, why not have healthy candies like Barley Candies?

Oh, she said, by the end of the day these are all eaten up!

I told her I had Diabetes and she was very careful when she cut my hangnails.

I asked about hangnails.

Yours aren't bad at all, she said. Some people have them all over!

I saw a bottle of this color sitting on a manicurist's table and said I'd like that color.

Official name: Red Hot Rid.

Submitted three poems just now to a journal I'd never heard of, but a 'friend' of mine on FB - a fab poet - submitted there.

The theme was "storms."

I've wrin several storm poems and had to shorten em to 30 lines.

Here's a new poem I wrote in about an hour:



TRISCUIT VIEWS THE STORM

That noise again
too loud for a canine’s
floppy black ears

The room vibrates
I run under Scott’s bed
and quiver on the dusty
blue carpet, waiting
for the room to collapse

When will the walls fall down?
When will the floor topple
and sail me into the basement?

White lightning flashes through
the bedroom. I remember Scott
my kindhearted playful master
who I will never see again.
His memory, a comfort to me.  

“Triscuit! Triscuit!” I hear.
Whimpering and sliding down
the stairs I fall into
the arms of my master.



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