Teacher- Part 1

"Where do they come from? The stories I mean."

The man sitting under the peach tree smoked his pipe giving no indication of hearing the question. The young boy fidgeted, reaching up to scratch an itch on his nose that had slowly been driving him mad in his attempts to ignore it.

"The stories come from everywhere."

The quietly spoken words startled the boy, itch forgotten. The man continued to smoke his pipe in a thoughtful manner as if the stories would come from his very pipe if he were still enough, thoughtful enough. At least, this is how it appeared to the boy. The man was simply enjoying his smoke.

The bitch is back

The page stretches white before me. A sea of white that goes on and on mocking me with it's lack of arial font. Writers Block, that bitch, has struck and the images that once ran across my mind's eye in 3-D and technicolor now only whisper from the wings in black, white and shades of gray. The lover's words refuse to come. The children do not play in the back alleys and dirt roads. The magic has disappeared from my fingertips. Where does it come from? And why does it leave me feeling so barren when it is gone...

Walls

"You have walls," said her mother. "You have walls so high you'll never be able to tear them down."

She protested vehemently, but as she lays in his embrace curled tightly in a fetal position she idly wonders if maybe her mother wasn't right. This man, whose face was intimately pressed between her thighs not minutes before, whose wicked tongue sent her pulse racing and fists clenching...this man was now being forcibly distanced from her.

"Can you move your knees? I want to hold you closer."

She curls closer into his chest wanting his warmth but tightens her fetal ball refusing his request.

Los Angeles

Latte in hand, yoga mat under arm she watches as the rising sun turns the shores golden from Long Beach to Malibu. Traffic crawls along the freeways and the blvds. She watches the paddle boats in Echo Park, chats in Spanish outside the local Botanica and glances over the wares along Olvera St. In the evening there is sushi in Little Tokyo and drinks in Silverlake. The latest starlet is arrested on a DUI and she watches it all unfold. At the end of the night she sits next to the Hollywood sign and watches the world below. Watches as the stories unfold in her City of Angels.

This kiss

If she kisses you she will see the future in your kiss. She will feel the heat of your touch, the passion locked in your eyes unleashed. It will answer her questions and her brain will stop thinking. There will be nights and days in between the sheets and stolen moments. If she kisses you. If she kisses you she will hurt and later when her mind unfogs from desire it will hurt more but she will know. Is knowing worth hurting? If she kisses you she will see the future in your kiss and her heart might be broken.

Tim

The President. This lone thought trailed through her head as she stared out into the night.

They had met one Spring morning when she ran into him on the quad. She had been rushing to a midterm while he was squinting through dark glasses and a hangover. Neither noticed the other till they were sprawled on the grass. He took her hand to help her up and never let go.

"Are you ready?"

"Who can ever be ready for this?" But she smiled as she turned away from the window, the Washington Monument shining in the distance.

Sarah

She grinned a chocolate grin, eyes sparkling as the golden wrappers in her lap caught the light and grinned along with her. Scattered pieces of crumpled paper lay forgotten at her feet like multicolored offerings to a benevolent god. In her lap sitting just so was a beautiful doll with black yarn hair and shining button eyes. She stroked the hair tenderly and continued smiling. Without taking her eyes off her treasure she quietly announced that she would name her Sarah.

"I'm really glad you like her mom."

And Sarah had a watery smile as she watched her mother play.