Dancers on Rock

DANCERS ON ROCK

Neila Mezynski

Copyright Š 2011 by Neila Mezynski All Rights Reserved ISBN: 978-0-9828032-8-8 Published by Deadly Chaps New York, NY 2011 Book Design by Joseph A. W. Quintela http://www.deadlychaps.com

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ontents:

1: Boys in Caves 12: Men in Bushes 20: Mothers in Men 30: Cats on Men 40: Dancers on Rock 49: Acknowledgements 50: About the Author

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or:

David and Sacha Mezynski

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oys in Caves

#1 - Fearless guy, tight places, loose on mountain. Flashlight for head, following a cat. Remember those tights and mites, she knew, wouldn’t tell or head lopped off.

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B #2 - Afraid, don’t cry, cavern for brain, Whittle Dee See, tippy toes; you can look, don’t touch. Light on head, not heels. She had a yen, he didn’t.

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B #3 - Hard barely, belly-scraped, tight fists. Blue curls on top, green trees on head with a side of sauerkraut, long talks with friend in night and day on phone sprawled on back. Turn over, don’t sleep.

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4

B #4 – Lean, tall, good-fitting, inside-out, flashing teeth, more gray on top with decisions hard on hair. Drop, rock, roll, he don’t run, can’t do his swag then. Fits through those caverns real good.

Not bad speech in cave. They’ll get it when they get out in the light.

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B #5 - Round belly in charge, don’t go in caves with kittys, only girls, might get scratched on lonely. Listen here. Need some landscape trimming in cave.

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B #6 - Whistling in dark, hum a tune, keep those bats in belfry arms length, holes so deep there’s no return, don’t fall, she’s not there to catch you, only drive you nuts; computer at bottom of pit, maybe escrow too.

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B #7 - Funny man boy with curls on belly, caves so hard.

Envelopes on alabaster thighs, army shirts at home. Bring her roses in holes so dark, hold a light, she’ll stay back and rewrite.

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8

B #8 - Wide of hip, teeth clenched smile, can’t direct parking car in cave, she won’t listen; stubborn broad, gold fingers long nails, plenty of hair on peacock tail. No swans. Should have stayed in Bali.

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B #9 - Won’t come on walk rather crawl on belly. She’ll carry him there and climb through holes with vacant drop, can’t see red face, tired of waiting for CDs and dinner. Play the song in a bottomless pit, he’ll listen then.

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B #10 - Key tackler not cave dweller; sweet sound of gentle scream do stop, forearms sting with nerves of steel, finish up Clara, then take a walk; sheet music and page turners, can fly without.

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B #11 - Long waisted lean and mean, would have trouble playing drums in caves, better stick to your motorcycles, sweet, that’ll fit softer too; give up music to dance on rocks, get the girl of your dreams.

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12

M

en in Bushes

#1 - He, long gangly, ginger hopping, prickly pear. Tip toeing, sure. Grab deeply, the sharp, deeper, deeper, hands still there.

He, only a flashlight, for her, other he. Follow him off a cliff, they will.

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M #2 - Davy Crockett. Small. Keep your tail fluffy, don’t tell mom.

And your raccoon hat unafraid.

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M #3 - Sparkly man-boy in heat, pulling corks from bushes, not dropping hopping from boulder to boulder, only sits on thin air, laughs, can’t breathe. Too high for her, his round comfort belly.

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M #4 – Tall, lean gray with boxes on white. Fast talker for roses with camera. Only a flashlight for hims and her. Keep on whistlin’ in the dark, hummer. They’re just boxes, not a house for sale.

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M #5 - He, trudging, yeah, sweet, didn’t want to hop only one two, soft, gun over shoulder for safe. The gentle bush for sitting. He will. Sit, stay.

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M #6 - Him, upset in bushes, leave them tomato plants. Don’t take them, just you. He can’t see the way. Too many cooks and bushes, too thick. Not enough paint or light.

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M #7 - Stocky, elbows out ready to stay on the path, the windy one. Curiouser, the flashlight dims just like the drawings in the ratty book. Don’t go near the bushes. She’ll bite then eat. He goes anyway.

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M #8 - They, protectors all find a way to hop across the boulders darkly, a short beam of light. Too many things to see.

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20

M

others in Men

Hers #1 - His sweet separated teeth, cherry pie, called David L, such ecstasy frowns his brow; expectant smile for that same time, cherry pie for Valentine.

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M Hers #2 - Tall, her chest up close, his red heat, mad as hell , the grown baby. Peanut butter, egg yoke, sun on hard red tiles, mouths agape on laughing teeth.

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M Hers #3 - Hands on lap, she waits eyes closed. Do your best to take the place, the Valentine. Unsure, quiet hands in lap, unmoving face, she stands nearby arms at sides, don’t know or how.

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M Hers #4 - Her far away smile, to be taken care. He leans in, the planner.

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M Hers #5 - Good blonde stock, brick square he. Stay away. No more.

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M Hers #6 - Big ears, red face, slanted lip, come out now. No one cares, he said.

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M Hers #7 - Scrunched in cheek, five miles of bad road, walk it not fast enough; folded arms with sweet smile beside.

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M Hers #8- Thin and wiry knees, you’re just like the rest. No more, clean it up.

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M Hers #9- Winking eye for you let’s play, but help he won’t.

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M Hers #10- Coarse, quiet. Frank Geary square.

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C

ats on Men

#1 - Cat hugs in between where kitty won’t go nor any other non blood sucker. Drove him nuts, draped over his head. He’s in the floorboards, where she can’t get at; she’ll settle for deer in back yard.

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31

C #2 - Cat on keys make for hard practice session especially when the house starts to rattle and roll. He don’t sit down except hard when told on cat.

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C #3 - Get kitty down from ledge where sun don’t shine and feet might slip on grapes and jealous. Jump. Pretend don’t care, take for granite, risk lives and limb for tiny black and white socks on open door policy. Just won’t wait til there’s change.

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C #4 - Sleep on floor near door, hear to for those plaintiffs on a midsummer’s eve. Cat in cold with paws of wet on fur for him, those plaintiffs. Open door shoots even faster with arrow, no demands.

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C #5 - He and cat on belly, on sofa three hours, won’t come when called if you ring bell; can’t find kitchen in trailer on dome, better retire don’t tease him now; won’t go on walks without that theme. Plenty of guilt for cats with degree.

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C #6 - Turn the page, no kid to bother with tense to get it just right. Jaws clenched, big suit so thin, lovely purrs from piano with cat scampering across the floor, Chopin is playing with him.

Kitty.

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C #7 - Cats in yard with cactus on paw, no need to get the chain saw, that’ll be for the neighbors next door and sweet gentle in between on motorcycle, boy o’ mine.

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C #8 - Kicking cat on ride on foot, knocking knees in time to Brahms #2. Metronome on chair with tail on crunch, on sofa, problem only a rocker could solve.

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C #9 - Cats in danger cut in pieces and taped on board to make better fit for him, cat in one little lady with plenty of corkscrew curls, smiles, coughs lots. He’ll beat the cat out of her to open those lungs every day and twice on Sunday.

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39

C #10 - Polly parrot could eat that cat, hips so wide, huge on door, never be able to pass those wings, maybe kitty or Puffball can.

He’ll smile his Cheshire cat grin, until time to go dance and direct her traffic. He’ll need time to lick his fur, can’t park the car with legs so short.

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D

ancers on Rock

#1 - Elbows out, fluffy arms, knobbly knees, gorgeous obstacles those boulders, pink satin on slate, tiaras too; a mad dash on her pogo stick to the top, jaw thrust out that sweet face, undeterred.

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D #2 - A cinnamon bun over each ear making hard to hear the screams of the first. She needs those to be fully dressed a little frosting wouldn’t hurt.

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D #3 - Loss of balance unsure footing for a ballerina or goat. Point that toe. Get those paintings on the top, he won’t go home or else.

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D #4 - Tumbling tulle, roses in teeth, thorns on cheek, painting in tears, him too.

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D #5 - A somersault to the top, nother she, slips on boulder, scratching tulle on rocks on poles.

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D #6 - Tennis shoe on oversized foot make for bad toe hold on boulder or life. Pointed.

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D #7 - He cartwheels up sharps, his walker below, lands on bony shoulders of donut ear lady with diamonds in head, frosting on nose.

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D #8 - The chorus of rock climbers in fishnet stockings get snagged on boulders and any male along. Hard on backs of pointed boulders with torn fish legs in air.

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48

D #9 - Scrambling like goats or ballet dancers, sequins and bouffant skirts, bony legs on high heels, stuck in holes on rocks and life in general. Pastries in ears and hips too.

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49

A

cknowledgements: Men in Bushes was first published in Kill Author.

Mothers in Men was first published in Barge Journal.

A special thanks to Joseph A.W. Quintela for all his hard work.

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A

bout the Author:

Neila Mezynski has fiction and poetry published in several online and in print journals and is author of Glimpses, a collection of short fiction from Scrambler Books. Currently Mezynski has a pamphlet with Greying Ghost Press, a chapbook with Mud Luscious Press and an echapbook with Caper Literary Journal. A chapbook is forthcoming from Folded Word Press in 2011 and A Story from Scrambler Books in 2012.

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