She lifts the one-piece blue gym suit toward the camera,
that relic of our girlhood trials~
the stretchy, scratchy, sweat-soaked uniform
we wriggled into like reluctant acrobats.
It hangs from her hand like a captured beast,
its elastic edges still whispering
of locker rooms, loud whistles,
and the long-ago tyranny of mandatory jumping jacks.
Her grin is bright, almost defiant.
“I survived the blue gym suit,” she says,
as if announcing a medal earned through
endurance, embarrassment, and sheer adolescent grit.
And truly~
for every teenage girl who fought that fabric,
who peeled it off after class like a second skin,
who learned early that some battles
are won simply by outlasting them~
it is a lifetime achievement award.
A small, silly triumph.
A shared secret.
A reminder that even the strangest struggles
become stories we hold up proudly
once we’ve lived long enough to laugh.
The reader of this title
probably thinks I'm on a bender
It's all about some comfort
I've not abandoned my male gender
For some years now leather belts
are causing pain around the hips
Now I get a pair of panty hose
and cut it into strips
The way I live my life
is far removed from orthodox
The strips hold up my shorts alone
many years since I adorned myself in jox
So men now take yourself into a lingerie boutique
get some panty hose to make a stretchy belt
Wrap it round your belly
so much comfort never felt
Sometimes when wearing zipless tighter shorts
it's difficult to lift the trouser leg when there's a need to pee
But elasticity of the panty hose means
top of shorts are quickly lowered so now willy's running free
Footnote: perhaps I am showing my age here talking about panty hose . For those unaware
they are female attire, a form of stockings and jox or jocks maybe an Australian colloquial term for mens underwear
Would You Like Some Toast?
I’m just a guy named Nacho Libra.
I work at an orphanage.
They gave me cooking duties.
And dead guy duty.
Would you like some chips on your salad?
Where are the spices?
Would you like some toast?
With these eagle eggs, all have the best wrestling moves.
Sometimes I wear stretchy pants.
In the ring, are you ready to dance?
I like paprika on my corn.
Do you have feelings for a nun?
If I win, I will buy a big bus.
On my bike, I will leave you in the dust.
Iv’e had diarrhea since Easters.
It says in the bible not to wrestle your neighbor.
This is the worst soup, it needs flavor.
Everything you just said is my favorite thing.
Nacho Libra likes to party.
Choncho, I need to borrow some sweats.
I’m not leaving, I just want to look my best.
I love cheese in my tortilla.
These are the lords' chips for the orphanage
I shudder while peering at sepia photographs,
showing visits to my maiden Aunt Hilda’s house.
Even though I was very young
it was clear she didn’t tolerate children.
I was to be ‘Seen and not heard.’
Pa said I wasn’t to utter a word.
I loathed being pushed and forced to kiss her.
Aunt's wrinkled leathery skin looked like
she’d been pickled in vinegar.
As she waddled around with a damp duster,
wiping at my finger marks that only she could see,
the wooden floorboards creaked like old bones
for she was grossly overweight.
Her buxom breasts smelled awful
and emitted a musty, moldy, cheesy smell.
Stretchy tan tights were never able to camouflage
the vivid blue bulging varicose veins
which snaked from her calves to her fat ankles.
The old sour puss passed away when I was six
Now, as I reminisce, I will no longer remain silent!
She danced over my desires like a light footed ballerina
tapping into my longings like an intuitive child of the seventies
Every drip of icicle sent shivers down my spine
and so I wrote her a letter, asking her to quietly go away;
She answered me, with a whip of wind and a halo from the sun
her summons were refreshing, like a snowflake on the tongue
Although I begged her to release her seasonal lurk on me
she gave me stretchy moments filled with February days
She made me long for sunshine five hours every day
and as I synced my calendar, March arrived Hurray Hurray !
Every hill of white and every snowflake bright
did eventually, fade away ....
She danced into my birthday month and gifted me the spring
and as I sat on my veranda I could hear the birdies sing
Every touch of her was gone at least for one more year
and so I wrote another letter, thanking her for her short stay !
M. R
Stray cats slipped under a waterlogged night
only to drift back bedraggled,
as if today still pulled at their tails
Old Charley Winslow died
before the deluge,
before the river threw itself
over the dike.
Laid out for burial
he was seen to float out of a lower window.
Lots are gone,
welcome mats and watering cans,
sheds and shingles,
plastic peddle carts,
potted plants, stretchy pants, and porta-potties.
Many never made it back,
though some may turn up tomorrow
to be salvaged and put away
for a rainy day.
Soft t-shirts, warm flannels, easy to step into
Cozy fleece, light cotton, stretchy elastic waistbands
Comfy nightgowns, flowered pajamas, and a mumu
Retirement encourages a new way to dress
Comfort over class, coziness over chic
Fashion is over the hill now
I live in the country
The only ones who see me are my husband and my dogs
ninny nonny noose
with a neck inside
stretchy stretchy stretch
and the witch she died
golly, gallows in a gully
hanging hung in such a hurry
spell a spell a spell did she
with a bucket boiling full of tea
with which the witch survived
never never died
ninny nonny noose
no neck inside!
A lunch for me that’s bound to please
Is one containing melted cheese,
For on a bagel or some bread
(The crusty type) or else instead…
Inside a quesadilla shell
Or anyplace to melt it well,
I love its oozy stretchy form,
Especially when it’s still warm.
It could be cheddar, maybe Swiss
Or mozzarella (that can’t miss)
Or muenster, gouda, edam, jack
To make a meal or just a snack.
The salad lovers may protest,
Yet pizza fans would pass the test,
For life provides no guarantees
Except when lunch has melted cheese.
there was a man
a small man
-a little man
-a tiny man
a small little tiny
man who found a-tiny-small-little-something
he pulled on it -and realized it had give
he pulled -this stretchy-little-small-tiny
thing and it kept stretching this was when the
small man - who was a flimflam man after all
realized he had a workable-fraud
realized he had found something
big -really-big it was more than a
stretchy band it was a movement
one he’d sstretchh beyond one’s expectations
you could recognize him -by his large
*mouth - and by his *tiny little hands
*optional
you may fill in the word *filthy before mouth
or before tiny or both as you please -please
armand~
This cyclic-round-wheel-gyre-chakra bound
business of humanness -
such an unnecessary habit.
I have stuffed my mind,
I have put on brown leather shoes,
and nothing else in the world
puts on a brown leather shoe more willingly
than an over-stuffed mind.
Later I might identify as a sleek black cat
and though I might not meow or have a tail
I will be pliable, stretchy, cool,
and hard to see in the dark.
If this feline thing works out
I might try elephant wisdom
or river otter playfulness
even the thoughtless bliss-fizz
of a hamster on its hamster wheel,
but maybe that’s just a bit too compulsive
like wearing painful leather shoes all day
and smiling.
Slim elegance, pencil-sharp,
dark business skirt,
clean contrasts
where the black cuts
a clear white neckline.
Stretchy pants,
wide at the beam,
rumpled fore and rear,
a clear predilection
for sweats.
The two women
enter by the same door,
both will leave
by the same door,
never noting each other.
The fuzzy store-greeter,
stacks baskets,
none of which are different
until filled with choices -
samplings that speak
of each self-image.
Mr. Stretchy Cat elongates himself gladly
He rarely eats food, but he is depressed, sadly.
Unless he stretches out on a pillow of stripes.
That is when his mouth stops making up gripes.
When I see him stretched out, I dare not speak.
He is waiting only for those with a squeak.
Silent in his hunting, he hopes one will wander by.
He is stealthy and sneaky, a truly attractive guy.
Female parade around him wanting his attention.
One followed him home from a Kibble convention.
I can see him through his window in a yoga pose.
Whatever he is thinking only he and God knows.
17th November 2020
Beating muscle beneath frail skin,
Rigid bone beneath strong muscle,
A warm full of life fleshy heart,
Thumping with feeling and passion,
Taking a stand on your sleeve,
No lies can be told in flesh and blood,
A cold, worm filled, empty rib cage,
Cracked gnarled and hollow,
Hiding away beneath veins and sorrow,
Whispering sweet lies into your skin,
Frail flaky bone,
Brittle stretchy muscle,
When you’re dead and when you’re gone,
Who stays?
The bone
Who withers away?
The heart
Even in death the empty chasm lies
Even in death the empty chasm consumes
My feeble beating heart devoured by the earth
And the bones who lied their way out of it
I would say by the skin of their teeth
But we both know they don’t have room for it anymore
On a table in the laundry room
Where tenants fold their clothes
Was a pair of jeggings left there
By a neighbor, I suppose.
A cross between some leggings
And a stretchy pair of jeans,
They’re often worm with tunic tops
By those of us not teens.
A note attached said something like,
“Brand new, but much too small.
If you’re a skinny gal, they’re yours.”
So what’s the protocol?
I thought they’d fit, so took them home
And they felt good to me,
A fitting treat on laundry day
From someone neighborly.
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