Category: Humor


Peter Gabriel

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I met a man who said his name was Peter Gabriel.

 A musician—

 

Listening intently…

 

He sang:

“Grab your things, I’ve come to take you home.”

 

And I cried with joy that it was done!

“My heart going, boom, boom, boom…”

 

Time drifted like a dream.

We were whistling… 

 

A kitchen painted-yellow.

Three mice hanging daffodil-curtains.

A child inside a clock that couldn’t tell time.

Oatmeal warm on the stove.

 

Peter had a mustache made from cinnamon.

I spun graciously in a music box.

Pink steel-tip slippers!

 

The sky—fresh cherry pie—the rose in my cheeks.

 

Marital bliss on the drums –

“Shock the monkey!”

 

Upon awakening—

 

Head propped precariously in a generous dose of reality,

and not the arm of a knight, but a microfiber-couch.

 

Cold feet, but warm breath—story of my life.

 

Kisses still lingering in the air,

attempting to be caught—slippery bubbles.

 

Almost made it to the other side:

 

“Dressing up in costumes, playing silly games,

hiding-out in tree tops, shouting-out rude names.”

 

The place I call home!

 

A trick:

Fall in love, feel alive,

secure in chiffon-dreams.

 

Peter—making record sales to support an unprofitable poetry habit.

 

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2017 All Rights Reserved

 

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At what point do you completely lose your mind from not sleeping? It’s been many months. At first it was insomnia, and I’ve heard others suffering from it as well, for one reason or another. Then I decided I would try a new mattress to see if it would help. It was not necessarily in my budget at the moment but I figured I work hard enough and deserve a good night’s sleep. I thought there’s financing. Maybe it was a remedy, at least in part. This was decided after sixteen years on a beautiful, luscious, Kingsdown bed, the Rolls Royce of mattresses that had finally given in somewhat on one side. In retrospect I wish I’d kept my old reliable mattress even with its hip indent. After all it was my perfectly comfortable-uncomfortable hip indent that took sixteen years to form perfectly around my curves. Still, I set out on a mission.

By suggestion of the salesperson I ended up in an all memory-foam Serta-iComfort bed. It certainly was a downgrade from what I was accustomed to, but with big dreams of sinking into a deep slumber, I took the salesperson’s advise. That was bed number one returned by way of a one-hundred-night-comfort guarantee because I figure I definitely work too hard to have to haul myself from a ditch-like sinkhole each time I roll over in my sleep. Let’s just say I have bad memories of memory foam!

The next salesperson on the floor eagerly showed me a combination bed of coils and memory foam. It’s the newest in bedding technology. I’ve learned that they are phasing-out coil. Take it from my aching-back this is a bad phase! Bed number two was returned on the same one-hundred-night-comfort guarantee but now with the, “Good luck lady we don’t want to see you around here again, clause!”

The manager was in when I chose bed number three. He wasn’t long on patience for me. He explained to me while I perused the bed selection for the third time that the new bed I was choosing on my own without sales associate influence, that happened to be coil (I’m keen on coil) and with a lovely pillow-top, was unacceptable because it was less in price. I was unfortunately married into meeting the same price or higher. After bouncing from bed to bed like, The Princess and the Pea, with a story similar to, The Three Bears…This bed is too hard, this bed is too soft, this bed isn’t in my price range… Anthony, the sales guy gave-up and went to help someone else. He left me with another, “Just as unhappy and sleepy lady,” to decide, along with her husband dragging his heels, as if through memory foam through the store, while we searched for true pleasure in bed, i.e., comfortable sleep!

This lady that had quickly become my best-bed-buddy, and I, laid on different beds together, intimately, side-by-side facing one another weighing in on our feelings about their cushioning, support, “rollability” (we made that term-up to describe rolling over without so much effort that your groin and lower back should have to go out) and at the same time we snickered about Anthony.
Together, we decided that the, Laura Ashley organic cotton all foam bed, but a different type of foam without memory (it doesn’t allow you to sink), was heavenly! Meanwhile, her husband decided we were both crazy. He also decided it was too expensive for them to purchase, unlike Anthony who liked it very much for me because it was an upgrade in price, and he suddenly became interested in me and my detailed description about bed comfort again.

My best-bed-buddy left and wished me a good night’s sleep. I miss her as I lay here awake at 2:00, 3:00, 4:00 a.m. in the morning, still uncomfortable, and thinking of my $4,100 finance stress, and of Anthony, and how he may react to me walking through the door complaining again. I dream of my old bed when I can sleep, of how it cradled me in coils of happiness.

I think like Dorothy now, “If ever I go searching for my heart’s desire, I won’t look further than my own backyard,” or hip indent in this case. Zzzzz…

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2017 All Rights Reserved

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