6 Degrees ~ 24 Hours

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Six Degrees ~ Twenty-Four Hours

 

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Photo:  MOMA  https://www.moma.org/collection/works/110263

  
 

Six degrees of separation

and twenty-four hours of pain

while he’s ordering another round

he sleeps with a bar-fly

but cannot recall her name.

  
  

Six degrees of separation

and twenty-four hours of pain

because this is how Noah felt

when he couldn’t stop the rain;

the deluge was too great

  
  

Six degrees of separation

And twenty-four hours of pain

because she can’t admit to herself

that she’s worth much more than this

and he should be out of the game.

  
  

Six degrees of separation

And twenty-four hours of pain

For the very last time tonight

She will cry for what might have been

knowing he’s already forgotten her name.

 

Six degrees of separation

And twenty-four hours of pain

because she’s out there living the dream

And celebrating a better man who

treats her better than what’s his name.

  
 
  
  

by Wildfire8470

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©December 14, 2016 – 12:50 AM – All Rights Reserved

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The theory and results:
http://www.livescience.com/32340-six-degrees-of-separation-fact-or-fiction.html

In the first large-scale test of the six degrees hypothesis, called the Small World project, scientists from Columbia University in New York had participants send e-mails to acquaintances with the goal of eventually reaching one of the listed targets. Results, published in 2003 in the journal Science, showed the targets were reachable in five to seven steps. However, many of the chains terminated prematurely, which the scientists attribute to lack of incentive by individuals to reach a target.
  
 
  
 

Declaration Divine

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declaration-divine

Gonna get all up onto my high heels

and haul ass out of here

gonna have to fight like a holy hellion

like I never fought for anything

like I never fought before.

 

Gonna slip on out of my warm bed

and paint my black jeans on

gonna be wearing a hat that matches

like I just got a sign

this is my declaration divine.

 

Gonna get all up onto my high heels

and haul ass out of here

gonna have to be my own super woman

for all of my sisters who can’t fight

like I have a godforsaken right.

 

Gonna get all up in my own existence

and then I’ll get up in yours

gonna fight like a holy hellion

like I never knew I could before

I’m no longer keeping score.

 

Gonna get all up onto my high heels

and paint my black jeans on

gonna be wearing a hat that matches

because this is my declaration divine

and I have a godforsaken right.

By Wildfire8470

Wildfire8470.jpg

10/16/2016:  In dedication to a personal declaration and end of abuse:  No more divided alliances or allegiances in my home or at my back. If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the abuse.

© October 16, 2016 – 11:44 AM

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In Case of Emergency

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in-case-of-emergency

 

Dahlia stood in the darkness thinking, worrying her hands, debating her options, and wishing she was still young. Decisions came so easily then but now, she paused laying her forehead against her arm at the window and then finished her thought, now I’m twenty nine. She closed her eyes against stinging tears and swallowed hard.

She couldn’t imagine her life without dance and couldn’t imagine losing Rand either, but this was a choice she had to make. It seemed the only choice and she would have to make it again and again. Dahlia sighed shaking her head when Melinda bounded into the room with hallway light streaming in around her.

“Uh oh,” Melinda said, hitting the light switch.

Again Dahlia closed her eyes asking, “Uh oh. What?”

Melinda sat down at the table digging into her clutch, “Dahlia, you only strike that pose when you’re really upset. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Dahlia answered.

“Sure. I’m buying that,” Melinda quipped, “You’re standing here in the pitch dark leaning into the window like you want to jump. Sure it’s nothing.”

Dahlia pulled herself upright and went to sit across from her, “I’m old, Melinda. How did this happen? I was eighteen just last week,” Dahlia said, hanging her head in her hands.

“I know but don’t think about it now. You won’t get cut. You’ve got at least a year before you have to worry about that.”

There’s more,” Dahlia whispered, “It’s Rand.”

“Mr. crazy-hot body?”

Dahlia smiled half-heartedly, “Yeah, that’s him.”

“So what is he on your last nerve about,” Melinda asked, laughing, “I’d be happy to take him off your hands!”

“We made love last night and,” her voice trailed off as she thought back.

“And,” Melinda snapped anxiously.

“And he accused me, Melinda. I’m guilty. Oh god, I’m guilty as hell! He said I wasn’t there,” Dahlia stopped short and got up to pour a drink.

“Not there? How the hell do you make love and not be there? Oh! You mean, not present?”

“Bingo,” she answered, pulling two glasses from the cupboard, “And it’s the awful truth. From the moment he asked me out, I’ve Grand jeté with every breath. One minute, I was building to orgasmic crescendo, blissfully lost in his touch, his kiss setting me on fire, and a minute later he asked, ‘Where are you, Dahlia? Where did you go?’ That’s when I realized it.”

“Realized what,” Melinda voiced her confusion, “I Grand jeté into every open door when I’m in love. Hell, that’s how I know when I’m in love!”

“Yea? And do you get lost in thinking about how the turn of your ankle was slightly off just as you’re writhing beneath him about to climax?”

“No way,” Melinda cringed.

“Way,” Dahlia placed filled glasses on the table and poured rum into each without measurement.

“You just got distracted,” Melinda offered, “He doesn’t know how hard it is for dancers. Did you tell him this could be your last year?”

Dahlia rolled her eyes at Melinda, “Yeah right. He’ll understand. He’s an architect, for crying out loud.”

“Do you love him, Dahlia? Is he absolutely the one,” Melinda swallowed hard, not expecting the amount of rum she got, “I mean, maybe he’s not worth all this?”

Dahlia sat her drink down and glued her eyes to the floor answering, “He is and he’s leaving next month.”

“Oh. Oh! He asked you to.”

Dahlia put a hand up, “Stop! Don’t say it!”

Melinda was ecstatic and crushed for Dahlia; even though it would be the break Melinda was hoping for.

Dahlia couldn’t speak. This was worse than being torn between two lovers. Dance was her life. She took a long draught and whispered, “Yes, he did.”

“And you’re?”

“I don’t know,” Dahlia cried, “I don’t know what to do! I only have a year left in dance but Rand said he’s never coming back. I asked him to wait but he needs to feel more important than anything else. He won’t wait! When he’s gone, he’s really gone,” Dahlia poured her heart out.

Finally, Melinda extracted a teabag from her velvet clutch and held it up to the light explaining, “It was a gag gift at a party I just came from.”

“Melinda!” Dahlia was shocked at her but curious, “What’s in it?”

“Pills,” Melinda replied.

“Duh! What kind of pills?”

Melinda paused, grappling for the right words and finally blurted, “The answer to your problems, Russian Roulette pills.”

“Melinda, what are you talking about?”

“Grand jeté into the grave,” Melinda whispered, testing Dahlia’s mettle, “In case of emergency, make tea.”

Dahlia descended into a fit of giggles and Melinda couldn’t help but join her. Melinda filled the teapot with water and Dahlia put the kettle on the stove. The two embraced happily and Dahlia laughed, “Okay, you’ve made your point!”

“Good! I was half worried you would do it,” Melinda grinned patting Dahlia on the back.

“It’s not a fate worse than death, but it is in a way.”

“Oh yes,” Melinda laughed, “I’d sooner die than marry Mr. crazy-hot-body! Geezzee! Drama! Drama! Drama!”

 

 

 

 

 

By Wildfire8470

 

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© September 19, 2016 – 04:44 AM – All Rights Reserved

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Reckless Rita and Feckless Fred

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Feckless Fred

 

Dear Diary,   12/8/2015

 

I’m sitting here next to feckless Fred except now he’s dead, and I’m about half seas-over working on my sixth pint of Conqueror Black IBA. I found a crate in the back of his truck! Okay so murder is wrong, and way out of my comfort zone, but it was really self-defense so I know you will forgive me when I explain why.

 

That’s the last picture I took of him right before Thanksgiving dinner at the community club. Well it’s half the picture. Old feckless was getting an early start. Nothing new about that, but that night was the first time he hurt me.

 

Later, when I downloaded the pictures, I cut his head off and pasted it onto a silver platter surrounded by bloodied mashed potatoes. You’ve got to love Photoshop! I stuck it on an e-card and wrote, “It’s what’s for Dinner – Happy Turkey Day!” Well, it made Olivia laugh and I got to vent. What he didn’t know never hurt him.

 

Only you and Olivia know the things I said weren’t premeditation, like, “If he comes home stinking drunk again I’ll do something drastic!” I never really meant it. I was just blowing off steam. I was pissed and I spouted off, “I’ll spike his drink with Drano,” and “If he lays a single hand on me, I’ll go Unabomber on his feckless ass,” but tonight he busted through the locked bedroom door, blackened my eye and split my lip. I snapped. I guess, by now, I knew I’d kill the bastard someday. I just didn’t know it would be today. 

 

Knowing his nightly routine, I waited to hear him turn the faucets and fill the bath. I heard the water splash in protest as he lowered his fat ass into it. Tonight, I stopped threatening and issuing impotent warnings. Tonight, I made good on them.

 

It was time to put up or shut up. Olivia knew it. She said, “If you forgive him, he thinks he can do it all the time and get forgiven all the time. All that teaches old feckless is that he’s right. He thinks he can injure you and get off with a few practiced tears and empty words.”

 

Geeze, she sure was right. She spoke with the voice of personal knowledge, warning, “One day you’ll make a decision or he’ll force you to, if he doesn’t kill you first.” 

 

She offered to let me stay over when he really had a snoot-full. Until tonight I was damn near living there, but just like she said, Fred forced me to choose. It was his life or mine so I did the first thing that came to mind.

 

I went to the tool shed to fetch a long extension cord and plugged it into the wall outside the bathroom, then got the toaster and plugged it into the other end. Silently, I cracked the door. Fred got up when he saw me enter. Before he could make a move I lobbed the toaster at him, yelling, hey Fred, go deep!

 

You should have seen his face when I pitched the toaster into the tub! Oh, it was so much better than I’d imagined a million times!  What now? I have to call Olivia straight away. Maybe she’ll know what to do with fried feckless.

 

RR

 

 

By Wildfire8470

Wildfire8470

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© December 08, 2015 – 07:21 AM – All Rights Reserved
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