Monthly Archives: May 2016

Your LinkedIn profile is commendably word-perfect
So amazing one person can do all that,
Tell me, would you buy shares in the network?
Have you cut any deals of measurable impact?

Slow down awhile, will you, and take a look below
Might it appear as if you’re running a treadmill,
Burning significant calories both physical and mental
But, my, why does it feel like it’s all uphill?

The Puritan work ethic you’re a loyal subscriber
It’s not as if you have much of a choice,
Either acquire wealth or perish in the try
Be careful on the way not to lose your voice

Games: Somebody or some committee wrote the rules
Have you discovered they now are being rewritten,
What was yesterday’s million is today’s billion
I guess quantitative easing is no longer forbidden

Are you getting yours . . . your share, your due
If not, Trump’s gonna make America great again,
I mean, Hillary would appear to be a no-brainer
But I just have this eerie suspicion, my friend

California elected an actor, so too did the country
Why wouldn’t a reality show titan make the cut,
While Bernie is most earnest and closest to the ground
Games are in the offing, your feeling, my gut

Says you and I may have seen this film before
Yesteryear celluloid, today a digital platform,
Are you prepared to “up” your acting game
Just in case there approaches a gathering storm

Tired, if but a little, you are, I can surmise
I can sense the pensiveness behind the mask,
The parties aren’t as fun, the vacations too short
Is being valued on your merits too much to ask?

Games; you’re a reluctant player but hardly alone
Those below and above are strategizing as much,
The rules of engagement are about to ratchet up
But remember who you are, woman, and live as such

Don’t ever let the moves close in on you, feel?
I ask that you allow me to do that instead,
You see, I’ve lost a title or two but not my soul
Indeed I’ve lost a love to the game, even bled

What a way, a fruitless way, to pass the time of day
Games, the nature of this tightrope existence we’re living,
But enough already–there’s a real pampering reality
Where pleasure is derived not in taking but giving

I’m that giver, if you’re willing to step off the treadmill
Let me slow your pace from going nowhere fast,
Our table awaits on this Pamper-Her-Friday
We’ll let others play the games, I want this to last.

____________

***

Pamper the woman . . . with sincerity. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

It states rather clearly and unequivocally:
“No harm is done should the woman text the man,”
A simple, I think of you, is so very powerful
A genuine heart reveal does wonders, it can

What is there to lose? Certainly not your soul
Perhaps you question the realness of people anymore,
A student asked me if Hillary truly loves Bill
“Does time have to change what existed once before?”

Searching, we are, silently, quietly searching
Somewhere between nirvana and tranquility,
Is it Tinder or elsewhere in the ether—by chance
But have you self-examined your own ability . . .

To give an unbridled care, much less a dare
“Hello,” he’ll respond, “Is it me you’re looking for?”
How will you reply, woman, would you even bother?
You may discover you share an easy rapport

Something like the introduction of a perfect summer
Incidentally it’s only a few sunrises away,
And when it sets beyond the Pacific horizon
My hand will rest in yours . . . so’s I won’t go astray

With the tide out to sea, say you won’t let it be
Don’t let go . . . of the writer lest the boat never returns,
He only wanted to know if you truly could care
Oh no, he’s gone, but the bonfire still burns

You’re lit, girl, admit it, is this writer the igniter?
What have I wrought, woman, what have I done?
If you’re afraid to answer without equivocation
No worries, then share with me a setting sun

Just one, I implore, a chosen day this summer
I’m advancing my ask without further delay,
Pamper-Her-Friday on the shore with this writer, the igniter
Anticipation . . . we’re only a few sunsets away

__________

***

Pamper the woman . . . before summer arrives. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Our exchange was as brief as it was that time ago, but, as then, what wasn’t said dwarfs the power of what either of us ever uttered.

A woman of few words. A man of fewer words. Little has changed. We are who we were—only there’s a manuscript’s worth of untolds we’ve lived since. If I had begun to read yours, Sonia, it somehow ended at the second page, first sentence. The book was taken away seemingly moments after it was shared. I hadn’t dog-eared a single corner.

Was probably me.

That smile resurfaced like a college girl in grade school once again. It resurfaced across your artist-rendered face like an after-the-rain spectrum against a jealous sky. Every bit as luscious and fragrant and refreshing as successive decades ago.

Wine truly does enhance, doesn’t it?

Detroit, I remember. Yes, I do. And across the border my own origins are mapped. I recall: The strands of hair dangling like a partial veil over your eye as you scribbled for me in your driver’s seat. Like yesterday? No, more like yesterhour that moment ago.

Perhaps you wanted to know, to learn, a little more. Did you? I did. If only . . . .

Probably me.

An elder once said a man doesn’t know what he’s doing ‘til his fourth decade. The woman, he said, matures sooner—and therein lies her inherent advantage. I won’t argue that.

But what if she peaks too soon? No one ever posited that one to the sage.

You haven’t peaked prematurely. I’d say your unfolding is the result of near-perfect timing. So gracious has it been to you.

Congratulations on the recent milestone. Upon you it apparently wears well.

God keep you, Sonia.

Tender are my thoughts,
Rg2

_______________________

***

Pamper the woman . . . before she drives away. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®