As I said last week, I’ve been going over the manuscript for the next Little Vines book (basically it’s the Vines between 3000-4000) and in doing that, I always find quite a few that need a tweak.
And then there are some that I don’t even know what they mean anymore, or I see a flaw in them that is so major I can’t abide it.
It means rewriting, or in some cases it means – throwing out the existing on and putting in a brand new one. Editing turns into writing.
Here are the rest of the Little Vines that got makeovers or are brand new. The numbers are the ones assigned to them in the book.
OK, let’s get going.
Electricity to the
Coffee urn leads to
Caffeine for the
Body sorely in need of it.
when you circled back for the rendezvous
on the dark side street
your body left its shadow behind
wanting no witnesses
usually you’re just the slap in the face
an out-of-control office party needs
but tonight you’ve taped pencils to your head
told everyone you’re the Statue of Be at Liberty To
The two silent shapes in the fog
men who flanked a third who whispered:
Which way now, Which way now
I knew I was meant to run and I did.
that street name
misspelled on the exit sign
is the place where I grew up
She’s got all the money.
When you go
she stays. Solvent and single.
a decent man but vain
transparent as glass
he sat in this chair many times
while my mother smoked and looked through him
the broken plate reassembles its pieces
the eggs unscramble themselves
the contract throws off inked signatures:
sometimes life lets you try again
my face muttering at me
in the tiny cracked mirror
my sanity floating off into the air
runs down the wall pauses in its shade.
I imagine the chalky feel of concrete under his feet.
at one o’clock in the morning
I dreamed the cook in the kitchen
was frying bacon in my sleep
my pink blouse and gray skirt
they certainly take on another shape
when you wear them
The cyclops on the hill
pink swim trunks and monocle sunglasses
oh they had an obliteration planned
those impudent bold-faced and brassy chemicals
itching to turn limp brown locks into Goldilocks
City sidewalk then he was gone just gone.
Navy blue suit disappearing him hey presto!
Office-wear camouflage. Makes you as invisible as air.
a million ways to lose happy
and here’s where we ended up –
somehow still holding on to happy.
Grateful doesn’t begin to cover it.
if I could just say a word or two about said the minister
Hurriedly the hundred onlookers
began to rehearse their one-size-fits-all justifications
He’s worked here six months
He’s never said a word that wasn’t about work.
This is a tell-all office.
Somebody needs to do something.
frays my nerves
fringes my patience
If there is a disagreement
the rock is
always going to win.
think about how it was back then
when we had not yet arrived in this small pond
met the big fish who swim in this stagnant water
Forty years a king
Half a stone tablet a short inscription broken off
All that is left of him. Is it too much?
First the pink ties on my white apron
crossed in front and tied behind –
then we can start cutting up the beets.
standing in the driveway of my house
at the chic end of the beach
I wondered how I’d make this month’s payment