Has anyone seen, Please? You know, to please or not to please, that is the question. Whether it is pleasurable to please, or polite to say please, is becoming a mystery to people, or at least that's what is seems to me as I pace through this unconscious society. Just another word that's lost it's meaning, and status in our vocabulary. I can still hear Mom saying, "What's the magic word?" Or maybe that's what the techno world is turning humans into. Rude, insensitive, self-motivated individuals, who think that because they have the world at their fingertips and don't have to respond in a human fashion as they thumb their smart phones, suddenly come back to their reality, where all manners are dissolved. Trust me, these ill-fated barbarians who have misplaced all sense of politeness, need to wake up, People complain left and right how awful the state of our existence is in, and yet who can say that they make a conscious effort to be nice to people? Not many, I believe. So, please, I implore you, practice a little magic today, and say the word, please!
PLEASE-To afford or give pleasure or satisfaction. Like, wish. To have the kindness.  According to Webster's.
So, let's go out and show some simple kindness and see how we can change the world. PLEASE!         

Throw me on a grill and let me sizzle,
outside slight signs of haze and drizzle.
Bikes lined up evenly in three,
leaves above me empty on the Cyprus tree.

Flip me just once and let me simmer,
as August days turn from bright to dimmer.
Birds chirp above me in quiet dusk like songs,
as distant church bells strike six vibrant gongs.

Cheese me cheddar, jack, or the tangy Swiss Miss,
touching my lips like a soft delicate kiss.
You melt and coat the four corners of my world,
my earth went spinning, whipping in a whirl.

Slide me on dark bread with caramelized onion,
as I watch the fading summer sun slowly descend.
The doubts and the fears of the day I felt,
have all disappeared as I eat my Patty Melt.

Throw me on a grill and let me sizzle,
outside slight signs of haze and drizzle.
Bikes lined up evenly in three,
leaves above me empty on the Cypress tree.

Dear Susan,
     I have nothing against suicide. I just hope it's for the right reasons.
    There's been no word from you since my arrival here in Santa Fe, and I'm wondering how you are. As you know, I came to the Southwest to try to talk you out of going through with your plans--per your request--and I'd hoped to have seen you by now.
     I understand, though. Your life is in an upheaval, and I'm sure you don't know which way is up or down, and believe me, sister, I know what you're going through. I wouldn't be here right now had it not been for the saving grace of something unknown.
     Anywho, I won't get into that right now!
     I don't know how you can stand this dry, hot air. I can barely breathe, and every time I do, I inhale dust. My tongue is all white and cracked, like dried curdled milk. Give me a stale Oreo, and I'd have a snack.
     And the architecture. What's with the mud huts? I don't get it. Personally, I'll take the dusty, crime filled streets of Detroit; at least there's some action there. Maybe that's part of the problem. You need a change of venue. A new environment. A place where your blood can start flowing again, and you can take in some oxygen.
     Now don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting you move back to Michigan. I'm just saying maybe your senses need a different scene.
     Guess I'm not giving Santa Fe a fair chance; I've only been in this town a few days. Maybe the right vibe just has to set in. After all, some locals say this place is magical, that there's a huge crystal right below the foundation of the city. from way back when, guess it began right after all the volcanoes blew up. Believe what you must!
     I think with the two of us working on this problem, we can brainstorm and figure out what you should do with your life. Then you can decide if you want to end it.
     Believe me Susan, as I said before, since I opened my business, Suicide Letters by Jack Monroe, I've lost no clients; few there were. Plus, you have to remember it was you who contacted me; so deep down, in some hidden way, you must want my help.
     I'm roasting as the hot Southwest sun rises over my shoulder, streaming into the side of my eye. The brightness blinds me for a moment. I see silver sparkles dancing against a black setting, kind of like a bad reel-to-reel, flickering like a strobe light. I glimpse pictures of myself as a child, young and fearful. Wondering about the moment death gives birth to finality. Did I know then what I don't know now?
     Maybe!
                                                                                      Your Friend,
                                                                                      Jack Monroe

Now, don't let the title fool you, and it's not as if this is what I'm experiencing, but am in a way, and in a good way. As with everything, my life evolves around my writing, and about six weeks ago I forced myself to take a break from my passion and re-energize. Allowing myself only to write blogs, greeting cards and letters. And let me tell you, I've done this in the past, and had no problems, But this time, I find myself craving the craft, almost like an addict. But I refuse to give in, trying to hold on to the amount of time I've allotted myself. It's a constant thought though, every where I go, the words, ideas, characters follow me, like a welcome spring breeze after a frigid, relentless winter. I pick up my aged thesaurus, Roget's, which I've had since age twenty. The cover is scotch taped, worn and torn with use throughout the years. A good friend, as well as my Webster's dictionary, which I received from my parent's upon my high school graduation. It too, showing the signs of constant hard work. This feels good, sitting, writing, letting my mind flow free. Doing what I should be doing all the time. And this is why I take breaks. To make me re-realize the power that flows within. I'm back! Hope you enjoy!