Neither the Wife Nor the Fanboy

Sometimes, stories and poems get intercepted and told by voices of the Universe. Such was the case this morning. Listen.

Main Ingredients:
baby carrots

Spice Pack:
1/3 dash of reluctance
1/8 whisper of nervousness


I am neither the wife, nor the fanboy, only the chef with the recipe on the screen. As an Arganee cook, and as one who channels sounds from the Universe, I am remixing this dish of Nervous Nellies into a poetic response. Listen.

The young fanboy writes;
the married writer reads.
It merges back together
when threads begin to weave.

They are both deep in story,
so, let’s add to the stew:
a carrot baby, peace, and
a perhaps a smidgen of youth.

In a stream of email whispers,
amidst text message shouts,
with comment bin analysis,
Nervous Nellie pouts

and pours herself a glass
a thimble shot of pain
for now that the story’s past,
she back at home again.

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