Second chances are gems of rarity
Whose value is reaped by those
Who acknowledge their coming
Second chances are answers
To the desperate prayers
Third chances are hooks
In the pond
Fishing out repetitive fools
Coming clean in Atlantic City
after Jill Scott’s “Golden” truth serum.
We were at the cross roads of our future
and some things had to be said.
Coming clean in Atlantic City looking in your mirror
at a double exposure that could have passed us by
were it not for God’s amazing grace.
At the Tropicana we gambled and won big, didn’t we?
Left without a dime from the house
but regained our winning spirits
that could only be revealed when we
were brave enough to come clean.
Coming clean in Atlantic City
we emptied our fears onto opposing beds.
I think you read me…
like I read you.
That discomfort stretched us beyond
what we already know.
I can’t imagine the world without us.
Relax hair, body, mind…
Float in fragranced water and
Enter silks
Slide on opaque legs designed to
Step in leather shoes – –
Tell who you are
Raise curls which cascade down
Burden shoulders
That hold upbringing straps in place – –
Leave hands free to choose
Diamonds smile in mirrors
Which line the eyes and
Contour cheeks with color
Lips say what you mean tonight
NINA’S PEDICURE
I let the nails grow and petrify
over the toes of an old lady.
Nina, whom I love to care for
says it takes podiatry now.
Using water will clean the tool
but cannot sharpen.
That takes metal-hard strength.
Water seams weak to me,
yet it is strong enough to soften and
make a file unneeded.
Her skin has wrinkled so it must be ready.
The water proves itself and
erodes neglect that stiffens nature.
Smoothes aging lines that go deep
like basement rock
Boars through without fizz or drill
And lets me trim and buff and
Polish eight – blood red.
I leave the big toes clean to see my work
And gain some balance.