The glass offered back only the reflection of the woman she’d constructed- polished, serene, unmarred by anything as inconvenient as the truth.
She allowed herself a small, satisfied smile as she made eye contact with the carefully curated vision of herself gazing back at her. Had she not known herself to be Suzanna Martin- daughter of a bookseller, child of a cramped third‑floor walk‑up- even she might have been fooled by the practiced poise, the artful lacquer, the elegant haute couture.
Somehow- knowing that every inch of this persona was cultivated only deepened her pleasure. She was her own Cournnement- her crowning achievement.
“Da’ling they are going to have to bury me with the lies I have told.” She mused arrogantly in her best Marlene Dietrich, as she turned- and watched her finest creation walk towards the door.
Photo Courtesy of Crispina Kemp
This piece is my contribution to both last week’s Dverse Prosery Monday, where the phrase was: Bury me with the lies I told.
And the photo prompt offered this week on Crimson’s Creative Challenge #70
innocence runs in the dew drenched grass of my childhood home, it calls “I’m here” sun barely risen, the sky clear cut glass my heart follows its bare footfalls no fear.
carefree, it laughs, it spirals and it sings till the rising sun makes dew retreat it’s gone quick, like drops that to the morning grass cling youth dissipates and with it- innocence misgone*
*”Misgone” is the past participle of the rare verb “misgo,” meaning to go astray, make a mistake, or go wrong
The poem is my contribution to this week’s We’ave Written Weekly. The form is a Memento. Here is the W3 call for the week:
For this week’s W3 challenge, let’s write a Memento — a poetic form created by Emily Romano. A memento poem captures a holiday, anniversary, or meaningful moment held in memory.
The Memento is written in two stanzas. Each of the two stanzas follows this syllabic pattern:
Line 1: 8 beats Line 2: 6 beats Line 3: 2 beats This pattern is repeated once per stanza, for a total rhyme scheme of a / b / c / a / b / c in each stanza.
Angel sat in her car longer than necessary, the shift hadn’t even started and already her stomach was in a knot. Tony was lead cook tonight- which meant he would have front row access to her- in addition to fending off his hungry looks and crass jokes- tonight she would actually have to talk to him if she wanted her food to come out right and on time.
She pressed her forehead to the steering wheel and exhaled. “You can do this- just get through the shift.”
Inside, the restaurant buzzed with the low hum of prep work. She met up with Marisol at the server station.
Marisol gave her the once over. “You look like you’re about to bolt.”
Angel forced a smile. “Tony’s lead tonight.”
Marisol groaned. “Oh, hell no. You want me to run your food?”
Angel shook her head. “I can’t avoid him all night. I just wanna come in, do my job and leave. And he is hell bent on chatting me up every time I go near the kitchen. And the way he keeps looking at me- UGH!”
In the kitchen, Tony was in a completely different universe.
He stood at the grill, spatula spinning in his hand like he was warming up for a show. Tonight was going to be great- he could feel it.
He was lead tonight- she’d have to talk to him. No more slipping past with those one‑word answers. No more pretending she didn’t see him eyeing her. She’d see how fast he fired her tickets. She’d see how helpful he was. Or else.
Jason tossed his apron on and eyed Tony as he walked onto the line. “You’re in a good mood.”
“Just ready for a smooth shift,” Tony said, grinning.
Jason snorted. “Right. It has nothing at all to do with Angel being on tonight.”
Tony shrugged, but the grin stayed. “She’s warming up to me. I can tell.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “How?”
Tony smirked. “She gets all quiet around me. Shy. And she keeps tucking her hair behind her ear when she walks past. She’s interested, man.”
Jason opened his mouth, closed it, and decided not to argue.
“She’s gonna get the picture tonight. I’ll speed up her orders, maybe slide her a little something extra, if you know what I mean!” Tony snickered, removing any doubt that he had intended this comment to be off-color.
The evening progressed, but not in the way Tony had imagined.
Angel stayed distant. Professional. Efficient. She didn’t linger at the window, didn’t laugh at his jokes, didn’t give him anything to work with. And the more she didn’t respond, the more irritated he became.
Finally he decided to hold her latest ticket.
Just a few minutes, he told himself. She’ll come over. She’ll have to.
By the time she did, the whole line was watching.
“What’s up with table 10? It’s got a twenty‑minute ticket time already,” Angel said, trying to keep her voice even.
Tony smiled, slow and knowing. “See? Communication. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He winked as he slid the completed order from his workstation into the window.
“That’s not funny, dude,” she said, heat rising in her voice. The look she gave him wasn’t shy, wasn’t flattered- it was furious.
She grabbed the plates and kicked her way out the swinging door.
Behind her, Tony announced loudly to his waiting audience, “See? I told you guys she’s one cold‑hearted bitch!”
In the Song, She’s So Cold, Mick Jagger is singing about a one-sided situation where the woman he is enamored with is showing nothing in return. The lyrics are over the top as he uses the extreme examples of a burning bush and a volcano compared to her being “born in an Arctic zone.”
“She’s So Cold” is a song recorded by the Rolling Stones, released in September 1980 on the Emotional Rescue album. It was also issued as the second single from the album, with “Send It to Me” as the B-side. Due to the song’s lyric “she’s so goddamned cold”, the promotional copy sent to radio stations had a “cleaned up version” on one side, with the “God damn version” on the other.
I’m so hot for her, I’m so hot for her I’m so hot for her and she’s so cold I’m so hot for her, I’m on fire for her I’m so hot for her and she’s so cold I’m the burning bush, I’m the burning fire I’m the bleeding volcano I’m so hot for her, I’m so hot for her I’m so hot for her and she’s so cold Yes, I tried re-wiring her, tried re-firing her I think her engine is permanently stalled She’s so cold she’s so cold She’s so cold cold cold Like a tombstone She’s so cold, she’s so cold She’s so cold cold cold like an ice cream cone She’s so cold she’s so cold Oh when I touch her, my hand just froze Yeah, I’m so hot for her, I’m so hot for her I’m so hot for her and queen of soul Put your hand on the heat, put your hand on the heat Aw, c’mon baby, let’s go She’s so cold, she’s so cold, cold, she’s so c-c-c-old But she’s beautiful, though Yeah, she’s so cold She’s so cold, she’s so cold I think she was born in an arctic zone She’s so cold she’s so cold, cold, cold When I touch her, my hand just froze She’s so cold, she’s so goddamn cold she’s so Cold cold cold, she’s so cold Who would believe you were a beauty indeed When the days get shorter and the nights get long Night fades when the rain comes Nobody will know, when you’re old When you’re old, nobody will know That you was a beauty, a sweet sweet beauty A sweet sweet beauty, but stone stone cold You’re so cold, you’re so cold, cold, cold You’re so cold, you’re so cold I’m so hot for you, I’m so hot for you I’m so hot for you and you’re so cold I’m the burning bush, I’m the burning fire I’m the bleeding volcano Songwriters: Mick Jagger, Keith Richards.
This is my contribution to this week’s Song Lyric Sunday where the call was for: Songs that mention the word: Cold
“Those were the days, weren’t they? Slogging to school in the snow or better yet- the rain, bell bottoms wet to the knees by the time you got there- ‘Elements! I ain’t scared of no freaking elements!’” Chet snorted, as he clapped Reggie on the back so hard he coughed his beer back into the mug.
Reggie wiped the foam from his lip and smiled thinly. He’d meant to stop in the bar for one beer. A punctuation mark at the end of a long workday. Instead, here he was, trapped in a barstool confessional with a man whose laugh still landed like a shove.
Chet leaned in, reeking of cigarettes, eyes bright with nostalgia that felt more like trespassing. “Remember my Nova? Man, we were kings.”
Yeah, Reggie remembered his Nova. The way Chet had insisted on driving it like a madman- how he loved scaring the shit out of anyone who had the bad luck to end up in the passenger’s seat. But most of all- he remembered that night.
The girl’s porch light snapping on, the sudden shouting, Chet’s fists flying like he’d been waiting all day for permission. Reggie remembered standing there, nineteen and scared silent. He remembered taking his part of the blame- he didn’t do anything to stop him. He remembered driving that Nova while Chet screamed obscenities at the poor girl out the open car window- drawing the attention of half of the neighborhood.
Reggie stared into his beer, seeing himself hours later in a cold holding cell, wondering what he was going to tell his father. Knowing the girl’s parents sat in a hospital room across town, keeping vigil over the damage Chet would never claim.
Reggie grabbed his change off the bar, then thought better of it and placed it all back on the bar before he stood up- “I’m outta here.” he said cutting Chet off mid sentence.
“You’re leaving all that for a barmaid?” a still ruckus Chet sang out after him- “You know those ones would be better spent on some topless dancers!”
Reggie didn’t even hear him- he pushed the door open and walked out into pouring rain- truly unafraid of the elements at last.
This is my response to the three phrasal prompts offered on tnkerr’s OLWG #118 where the three phrases were:
Thru Violet's Lentz 