Some Folks Call Them Cinder Blocks - I Call Them Breeze Blocks

Some folks call them cinder blocks – I call them breeze blocks – blocks made from coal cinders mixed with sand and cement – they can hold a human body down and underwater forever –

they won’t find it –

A bouquet of flowers greets me at the door – they lay in his arms – they are for me - toothpaste-white Babies-breath embrace the brilliant roses – yellow (my favorite) with 4 red mixed in – just recently open – awakening – greeting the day – My love for him… budding seeds beneath nourishing soil (?)- a new beginning, perhaps… – I put the flowers in a vase with room-temperature water – and smile, slightly

From above, he drips (deposits) masculine honey into my mouth – and I accept it like it is sweet nectar – Then, I pause (and am somewhat-surprised – though I shouldn’t be) - the taste is bitter – My friends back away – because they see the landscape differently than I do – I know very little about makeup, but I do my best to brush-over the bruises – to brush over his tantrums and anger – moments when I was difficult and my words or actions or intentions were inappropriate – not acceptable – when I disagreed – it is not allowed.

Some folks call them cinder blocks – I call them breeze blocks

I am stronger than I look, and I can hold a motherfucker down (full stop)

My evenings often inhale books, music, wine, and Netflix – I pour a glass of high-end sauvignon blanc and exhale – he joins me – he sits close beside me on the couch, he smells like cologne that isn’t his – and alcohol we don’t have in our home – I use the remote control to change the channel – as he holds me close with a single strong arm

I breathe in the brilliance of 2-day roses – they are wilting, but only barely – they must not die – so I add sugar to the water – I do not wish them to wilt further – so I add another spoonful – I hear it makes the medicine go down, the medicine go down – he’ll be home soon, and his dinner must not be late upon the table – must not be late upon the table

My running shoes are Adidas because I can run fast in them – I’m not a runner – I don’t even exercise – and I will not mentally take them off – though I am visually barefoot as I lay in bed next to him – with the remote, I change the channel – hoping for something different – something better – click, click, click – I press the button, I press the button, I press the button – hoping for something different – something better

Some folks call them cinder blocks – I call them breeze blocks

The late summer breeze caresses my skin as I sit on the porch to read – The sun is blocked by a billboard blocks away – it hides the intense rays (for now) – The breeze wrestles with my hair and I accept its playfulness – I block out the nearby sound of construction as they tear up a neighboring street – I know how it feels

Pancakes in the morning heal all wounds – I bring out the margarine and the Vermont syrup – and the cakes are hot and evenly cooked – as is required – My black eye barely sees the plates upon the table – but I have a second eye – and I use it to find my chair – pancakes in the morning heal all wounds – “I can get you more syrup, if you want”, I say – later he will drip angry honey into my mouth, from above – and I will later cry in the bathroom because of it _____

I’m at the beach (in soggy clothes) and the gentle breeze dances with my hair – I sit on a beach towel and watch the waves crash before me (it is beautiful!) – The seagulls are squawking and circling above, and I pay them little mind – The flowers in the vase (on the table at home) have wilted – they have died (the yellow and the red) – their best efforts to survive lean hunched over and defeated –

Some folks call them cinder blocks – I call them breeze blocks…

I deeply inhale ocean air, and the breeze is sweet – I raise my hand towards the sun to (temporarily) block the rays - the tide is high – and I’m moving on (my damp clothes are almost dry) – It’s still early morning – the beach is deserted – and I watch the seagulls fly and walk upon the golden sand

Some folks call them cinder blocks – I call them breeze blocks…

And I’m free – I’m fucking free – as I walk along the early-morning and deserted sandy beach – it’s beautiful… the sun shines heavily and hot upon me, and I no longer block the blinding rays as the breeze dances with my hair

Photo: Jimmy Broccoli with Cheerio, the Anxiety Bunny Rabbit with his (Cheerio's) Anxiety Demons (the white rabbits).