That shadow of yours still resides
in the kitchen window
where the orchid used to be.
Was it pink?
I can't remember.
We'd make eye contact every time.
You greyed early.
I admire your pigment
or lack there of.
Your young face filled the window sill
with motion as I'd walk by.
Our eyes would cradle each other
for not long enough.
What if that window had been opened
and you reached out,
or my confessions came flooding into your grasp?
~Tina Meeks
Alone in space for peace and solitude
Voices carry over wooden frames of privacy
Only vision protected but auditory,
expected
Slender human thoughts excel through
time like lightspeed
-It's true
My thoughts have sinned
Where do I drift to in order to make something
make sense
of the feelings that never leave
and left on the back burner?
~Tina Meeks
I froze.
You kissed my cheek daringly.
I sheepishly went for the crevice
between your lips and missed.
Then we both paused
and just let it happen again.
~Tina Meeks
Tickled by raindrops plopping across our bodies
faster than we could run.
Remember that one time we got
stuck in the storm
and couldn't find an overhead?
It's okay to be drenched, I thought.
Eventually, we smiled and just walked
in the down pour,
taking the evening as it was.
Often, a late night would take us to
the gelato shop in Downtown Berkeley.
I used to go there for lattes
before my night class-
That was when I just started
drinking coffee.
She's a dancer
Speaker in motion
Tender gliding on hardwood floors,
stirring lithium,
coming to life
Spectacle for the dead
A resurrection of hope and a silhouette
through the day
and unknown to many climates
"I am missing
I'm gonna start posting pictures
if you don't let me see myself"
she says
That was a glimmer of real time in public
when stripped to the bare bone
Collecting her objects like thoughts
and cradling them in her hands
so carefully like a child
and rigidly putting them back down again
Through the car window,
she appears to be one of us
with a serious discussion
Who is around, matters not
Look closer,
you will see the Norma Jeane Mortenson
in her face
Storytelling eyes
that pierce a moment in time.
~Tina Meeks
I must be a daydreamer.
Wandering under the sun and longing
to be back to the cold mornings
with birds welcoming me.
The stillness roaming the streets like a drone,
soring to capture the moments that are craved.
In a daze time and time again
and putting everything into it
by being present enough to see the clouds exploring
and evolving
and changing.
Where's the ground now a days?
Only concrete swamps surface the city
and I belong in the dirt.
Trying to dive deep into dreams,
I only get so far with the Z's
Resurfacing every few hours for a breath
Check my pulse, I'm still here,
and how do I get back to where I was?
How can I remember that it's okay
to drift and let go?
To feel like a shooting star
amongst those seeming to stand still?
It's like I wanna dance in the night
and don't know how,
even with all my shedding of shrapnel
~Tina Meeks
