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Abigail L. Johnson

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Sheridan, WY, US

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If You Care About Her

by

Abigail L. Johnson



If you care about her, as you say you do,
Youíll go to the police and confess to them what you did to her,
And youíll tell your attorney that you want to plead guilty because that is what you are,
And you wonít recant any information you provide without your attorney being present,
If you care about her, which I seriously doubt.

If you care about her, as you say you do,
When the sentence is handed down, you will not appeal it because it is what you deserve,
And you will take your punishment like a man,
If you care about her, which I seriously doubt.

If you care about her, as you say you do,
When you get out of prison, you will register as a sex offender because there are laws that protect women from men like you,
And if you have trouble finding a job at first, you will be relieved that employers wonít hire men like you,
If you care about her, which I seriously doubt.

If you care about her, as you say you do,
You will find a program where you can learn to keep your male reproductive organ where it belongs when it is not wanted,
And if you are unsuccessful, then you will not engage in any relationships with women because you can never control your urge,
But then again, if you cared about her, you wouldnít have done what you did, now would you?


Do You Remember?

by

Abigail L. Johnson

Do you remember your childhood,
Working with Dad in the fields or helping Mother in the house,
Going to school and being praised by your teacher or being threatened with a hickory stick,
Playing with siblings and friends and occasionally being made fun of and harassed by other classmates and schoolyard bullies,
Do you remember?

Do you remember being a teen-ager,
High school, dating, the prom, graduation,
Do you remember?

Do you remember adulthood,
Going to college, getting a job, getting married, starting a family,
Do you remember?

Do you remember growing old,
Watching grandchildren and great-grandchildren arrive in the world,
Retiring from a job which you may have had for years,
Relaxing and doing nothing and then eventually volunteering or acquiring a part-time job,
Do you remember?

Now, you cannot see, hear, or walk,
Someone must bathe you, dress you, and feed you,
Someone must wash your clothes, make your bed, and clean your room,
Someone must keep you occupied,
Things may seem rather bleak right now,
But youíve had a good life,
Do you remember?


Peace on Casper Mountain

by

Abigail L. Johnson

The woods are silent except for the distant sound of chain saws,
Are they clear-cutting our forests just so people can have paper or are they just chopping firewood?

The woods have their usual smells of pine trees and flowers,
There are no unpleasant odors such as animal manure,
I wonder if there are no deer or dogs around to create such smells.

The woods are beautiful,
Green trees, green bushes, green grass, and blue sky,
Even the road beneath our feet is beautiful.

As we walk towards camp, the sound of chain saws is stilled,
Moments later, a truck filled with wood passes us,
Hopefully, enough of the forest has been taken for one day.


Sue

by

Abigail L. Johnson

He didnít care about her,as he said he did,
Or he wouldnít have done this to her,
When he first met her, he told her he only wanted to be her friend and that is what she wanted too,
And then, when she trusted him, he broke that trust,
He wouldnít have done that,if he cared about her.

He didnít care about her,as he said he did,
Or he wouldnít have assaulted her in his bedroom,
He had been remodeling this old trailer he had bought and he wanted to show her what he had done with the bedroom,
But then, as he was sitting with her on his bed, he put his hand inside the front of her blouse and began touching her,
When she resisted, he assured her that he would not hurt her and told her that he cared about her and that he wanted to have a sexual relationship with her,
She passed out, possibly from the shock of what was happening to her because this had happened to her before,
When she woke up, he was on top of her and inside her,
And when it was over and he was driving her home, he said once again that he cared about her and that he wanted to continue having a sexual relationship with her,
She had made it perfectly clear to him that was not the kind of relationship she wanted,
He wouldnít have done this, if he cared about her.

He didnít care about her,as he said he did,
Or he wouldnít have done to her what he did,
Perhaps because she is visually impaired, he thought he could take advantage of her,
In any case, he wouldnít have done it, if he cared about her.


When Life Hands You Hot Dogs

by

Abigail L. Johnson

When life hands you hot dogs,
Then thatís what youíll eat,
When life hands you rotten apples,
Youíll find them quite sweet.

When life hands you chicken,
Without any skin,
Then youíll eat skinless chicken,
And thatís not a sin.

When life throws you curve balls,
Youíll do your best at bat,
And youíll cross your fingers,
And pray and all that.

When life causes gutter balls,
Then take it in stride,
And just keep on trying,
For youíve still got your pride.


Writer's Block

by

Abigail L. Johnson

The weather is cold and cloudy and bleak.
And I donít know what to write except that
Iím suffering from writerís block and thatís
a royal pain in the butt, donít you know?
The pressure is on. I must finish this
so I can move on to some other things.
So, what shall I write? So, what shall I write?
So, what shall I write? So, what shall I write
so I can move on to some other things?
The pressure is on. I must finish this.
Iím suffering from writerís block and thatís
a royal pain in the butt, donít you know?
And I donít know what to write except that
the weather is cold and cloudy and bleak.


The Black Hole

by

Abigail L. Johnson

He must speak but he canít find the words.
They wonít come out.
Stammering and swearing, he struggles to wrestle the words free of the black hole into which they have fallen.

There was a time when words came freely to him
but now, his words have fallen into this black hole
and he must dig deep to retrieve them.

He is lucky, though.
Others have lost more than just words in this black hole.
In this black hole, others have lost their ability to walk and bathe, dress,feed, and occupy themselves.

But not him!
He can walk and he can bathe, dress, and feed himself.
He can operate such gadgets as a Tv, computer, and a lawn mower.
Why, he can even drive!
In this black hole, he has only lost his words
and that is nothing compared to what others have lost.


Leaving The REal World

by

Abigail L. Johnson

What does the real world hold for me?
A job I enjoy but of which I am growing tired
and a boss who is tolerable but often annoying.
I want to leave the real world and be my own boss.

If I were my own boss, I could set my own schedule, which would be convenient for me.
I would not constantly hound myself if I thought I was not doing my job correctly.
I would not give myself verbal or written warnings for minor infractions.
In fact, I would not even discipline myself at all.
I would just say, "Hey, everyone makes mistakes. Nobodyís perfect."
But thatís not the real world, is it?
And yet, thatís where Iíll be someday.


Poetic Injustice

by

Abigail L. Johnson


From a distance, the dog sees the squirrel in a tree
and decides he must catch it,
although he does not know what he will do with it.
Barking frantically, he rushes towards the tree
and jumps on the trunk, as if it were a person he was attacking.
His paws hit the trunk and then slide down to the ground.
He tries many times but is still unsuccessful.
"Rex, come here!" the woman cries.
"You canít climb that tree."
The dog ignores his ownerís words,
those words that tell him his goal is impossible.
He is intent on only one thing, that squirrel.
He continues to struggle again and again to achieve this goal
until his paws finally hit the ground for the last time.
Fulfilling his ownerís self-fulfilling prophecy,
with his tail between his legs,
he dejectedly walks over to where the woman sits
and collapses at her feet, exhausted.
She reaches down and strokes his soft head, now dripping with sweat.
"Good boy," she says.


Call Back Tomorrow

by

Abigail L. Johnson

Dad pays only $12 a month.
Sheís paying $20 a month.
Itís time to switch.
The nightmare begins.
Sign up.
Type in configuration numbers.
Type in phone number.
Connect.
Dialog: The remote site is not responding properly.
Grab a Dr. Pepper out of the fridge.
Go back into the living room.
Sit down at the computer.
Try again.
Dialog: The remote site is not responding properly.
Call tech support.
Leave message.
Eat dinner.
Read newspaper.
Try connecting again.
Dialog: The remote site is not responding properly.
Swallow pride and call Dad for help.
He says he didnít have this problem when he signed up.
Work on problem with him for two more hours.
Try connecting again.
Dialog: the remote site is not responding properly.
Shut down and go to bed.
Itís morning.
Wake up.
Havenít slept well.
Still feel tired.
Canít get back to sleep.
Get up.
Eat breakfast.
Try connecting again.
Dialog: The remote site is not responding properly.
Call tech support again.
Leave another message.
Wow, they actually call back!
Work with them for two more hours.
Try connecting again.
Dialog: The remote site is not responding properly.
Expert will be in tomorrow.
Call back tomorrow.


A Song In The Night

by

Abigail L. Johnson

I wake up and lie there,
listening to the night outside.
It is still except for
the hum and rattle of a nearby food bankís refrigerator and
the sound of a train whistle far away.
The refrigerator will run all night and all day
to ensure that the food stays cold
and people are up at 3 A.M.
to see to it that we get coal and other items those trains carry.

An hour later, the silence of the night is broken
by the song of one lone bird.
It is not even light yet
but this bird announces that day is soon approaching.
How does the bird know that the sky will soon grow light
and the sun will soon rise?
In two and a half hours, I must also rise and face a new day.
I finally drift back to sleep, lulled by the birdís song.


Power Outage

by

Abigail L. Johnson

The power went out in my apartment
and I donít know why but when I got home,
everything was off. They say that it was
because the transformer blew, whatever
that means. In any case, the power did
not come back on for at least another
hour after I got home. It was so
hot I thought I was going to die but
as you can see, I did not. I am so
spoiled. I am used to living in a place
that has air conditioning so when I
donít have it and it is hot like it was
that day, I feel so miserable and
thatís all I have to say about that day.


A Daughter's Plea

by

Abigail L. Johnson

Mother, please come back.
Itís not that I need you to take care of me.
I can do quite well on my own, as you know.
But I still want you just the same.
I need you to share my joys,
console me in my times of sorrow,
and listen and offer support,
as you have always done.
Itís not fair that you have been taken from me so soon.
Please come back.


I Forget Day

by

Abigail L. Johnson

Yesterday was National I Forget Day.
But for some of us, every day is I Forget Day.
Some of us forget to take our medication.
Some of us forget appointments.
Some of us forget where we put our glasses and keys.
Some of us even forget what day it is and
where we are and donít recognize people around us.
I am already starting to forget
and the most important thing Iím forgetting
is what itís like to be young.


Coming Home

by

Abigail L. Johnson

The car turns off the pavement and onto the dirt road and stops.
The rear left side passenger door opens
and out jumps a big, red, Irish setter.
The door slams shut
and the car moves down the road at a moderate pace.

The dog runs alongside the car,
her red, floppy ears and red mane blowing in the breeze,
her multi-colored kerchief visible in the sunlight.
She occasionally stops to sniff something along the side of the road.
The car stops too and a man calls out the window, "Come on, Maud."
Maud turns toward the car and theyíre off again.

About a mile down the road, the car turns into a driveway
and a woman hurries out of a log cabin to meet the car.
Maud rushes up to her, tail wagging in frantic anticipation.
The woman reaches down and strokes the dogís shaggy neck
and Maud gives the woman a big, sloppy kiss with her wet nose.
Maud then runs in joyous circles around the car
as people alight from it and items are removed from the trunk.
Itís so good to be home.