I get a strange sense of deja vu;
I’ve done this all before.
Is it possible the poem was written in another life?
Or a dream?
A dream of a crime I am destined to commit
over and over and over again?
Throwing caution to the wind,
you pushing buttons that only you know exist.
So many buttons for your amusement,
until it isn’t funny anymore.
A strangled laugh turns to a strangled cry turns into a crime of passion.
Only that’s not true.
The passion was dead a long time ago.
Growing up, my family moved around—a lot. I attended a total of nine schools-in six cities-in four states before my first year of college. My first attempts at writing became a series of short stories inspired by the antics involved in making those numerous moves—from north to south and east to west—with my oddball family. Two local newspapers picked them up; running one story per month in a humorous memoirs column for a couple of years and that had me hooked. I continued to write, entering contests and submitting stories to a popular local news blog. Most recently, I have completed my first book, a compilation of letters to my sister-in-law describing my first year as a new-hire flight attendant in Boston called, "Dear Melinda, How I Met Your Brother." Now the hard part, finding a publisher. I have two children (now in their 30's) and reside in North Texas with three rescue dogs and a WFH job as an environmental compliance manager. I am continuing to write part two of my book, Dear Melinda, How I Married Your Brother. You can read more of my work on my website - Lisa H. Owens.