I am amazed peoply typify me as the talking, joke cracking nutty girl who always manages to smile. Nothing can be farther from the truth that is. I am vivacious if I want to be, I can be lethal with my anger. And I can crack a joke at expense of myself. But nothing, and nobody can claim to know me, if they misinterpret my reclusiveness as being upset, and typify me as a forever cackling goose.

I hate it when people say the most hurtful things masqueraded as a joke. Mostly because while I can be sarcastic to the point of acid dropping sentences, I usually fire it at people i do not respect.

Wish I did not become a submissive fool to people I loved. That is the trouble. They abuse that position. Sooner or later.

Few moments in yesterday...

The key fitted, two clicks, door opening

into the silent, sturdy security,

of a hardworking life.

I walked back, barefeet, into the cocoon of my privacy;

bringing thoughts and case files of a hundred people back

into the empty confines of my shelter,

save mine.

But a single silent blink broke somewhere in my eyes,

the bulb chose to die;

as a smile bore down through the cushions,

wood, granite and earth

into a face looking up at the moon inside

an eight year old car, two other lives beside

one in giggles, another in sniffles

the third singing of lanes left by.

Tumorous smiles, unkempt voices

flying high in sweaty summers

happy stars and moons drooled on paper,

handprints on posters,

meaning of lager

Fevicryl on boots,

When promises took roots

only to bore so deep, that realities did not weep

when they turned into memories

locked forever shy.

And even the yellow light blinded me back,

up from the depths of

that protracted happy goodbye...