• Bridge Ladies

    Bridge Ladies Sometimes I think a meteor could strike the earth and wipe out mankind with the exception of my mother’s Bridge club — Roz, Bea, Bette, Rhoda, and Jackie — five Jewish octogenarians who continue to gather for lunch and Bridge on Mondays as they have for over fifty years. When I set out to learn about the women behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, and most of all the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
  • Archives

You’re Amazing Just the Way You Are


What would it be like to paint or sit in an orchestra pit? Or Bruno Mars moving like silk. What would it be like to audition, stare into the face of a director and casting agent in a darkened theater. You are a monologue, a pair of tap shoes, the horse hair on Cezanne’s brush. You discovered the filament, the fiber, the fringe on a red velvet curtain, burnished and dusty, ropes of gold. You have no idea what your body beholds. You can’t remember your name. You cannot sculpt, or sing, or make anyone laugh.

What do you wish?

10 Responses

  1. slack-jawed
    i behold
    your poetic

  2. How wonderful it would be to compose exquisite melodies, enter a salon, or a bar, or anyone’s living room, and sit down at the keys and hit the perfect progression of chords! The fourth, the major fifth. Hallelujah. I was a dancer once, dreamt of becoming a ballerina, my arms delicately extended even at seven. Tiny ballerina. I wish I could sing, in impromptu and perfect harmony, though once upon a time long ago and far away, I did. Today, I write alone, in solemn solitude, my legs crossed at the altar of my unapologetically messy desk, to search the choir of words that sing themselves.

  3. To not have to serve the public. To sleep late and contemplate words while staring at the Connecticut River. To not fear but embrace that which keeps me up at night.
    I wish I didn’t have to wish for more than I have because what I have is enough.

    • The Connecticut River is one of the prettiest rivers I’ve ever paddled on, going away from populated areas and to places you can’t see from any road. Enjoy the view!

  4. I wish I could sing – even a little. However, since I can’t, I simply wish I could figure out my outline. That would be stupendous.

  5. I wish I could play the piano, Chopin’s nocturnes, in a friend’s garret in Paris where I wish I spoke perfect French.

    Once, when I was 16, I wished for two things: an old, dark, crumbly house with a fireplace in the kitchen, and then a derelict city space with a fire escape to write by. Those wishes came true. I try to remember that when I’m bitchy & ungrateful.

  6. I wish Hillary Clinton was President.

  7. “What do you wish?”

    I wish Queen Despicable the Gaslighter would eff off. I don’t take snuff at breakfast. But enough of that.

    I wish people would grow up and get a clue. Or get a clue and grow up. Or grow a clue and get up. However it’s supposed to work.

    I have painted. It is wonderful. The smooth, flowing, wordless creation of the portal. Sometimes wish I still had time and means to do it.

    I have auditioned. It is not so wonderful, though you can’t beat the jolt, the pure adrenaline rush. And if you get the part, or even a call-back, zowie! Submitting manuscripts is kind of like that, though nowhere near as intense.

  8. All of those things and then one: to be my own sun.

  9. To Finish My 2 Books of Poetry & Be Director Of The Boston Ballet w/ALL ACCESS. Sean Andrew Heaney

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: