The mind, a dormant stone

It's birthday season again!  Yay...  (sarcasm) Gosh, it has been a while since Covid19 made its debut... I think I was thinking it would be gone by now. Yes, the foolish fantasy that we could continue with our lives after 2 weeks of lockdown, but here is August. It's nearly my birthday and I have been wrapping my head around just what I can do to celebrate. Sure, you can say, go low key. Or, "why not be low key, Jessica. Why's it gotta be a big party?". Well, to counter that I'd say, "F&*k off, it's my birthday bish!" But really , I would probably say: 1. I just came out of 3 years of being "Mama", as in new momma, as in "where the hell did Jessica go", as in "when the hell is Jessica coming back?" as in "what do the kids need now?" I haven't been out in a long time. Definitely not the way I used to go out.  2. It's a milestone birthday! Let me rock my milestone and set it off! That's what I...

I wanted to write you a birthday poem, but all that came out were bubbles. Imagine that; a paper with fading lines underneath a soaking sud. The small round imprint teeters on its hump, pretending it's a letter trying to nestle between two lines. This is not the case friend, bubble. Your girth is grand and the liquid sliding down your gentle skin is much too heavy. You're out of place. Still...your day is now. Birth more bubbles out of yourself... sneeze and a few more can drop to the side. Wiggle and watch them grow independent. Blow the suds around to form more complex shapes, add some music for tempo. Suds like to dance around...singing " Happy Birthday, Sis! "! for cjm