Moving On

Content Warning: Implied Sexual Assault

Moving On

I sit on a stool in the D Bar J,
sucking on a $2.00 soda, the smell
of stale beer drifting through
the door that separates me
from the cottonwood mist outside. I hear
the pool balls smack, Chapin’s
maudlin in syncopation to my pulse. Smoke
from a cigar catches my refrain,
carries it to the elk head’s seven point
rack that plays cat-in-the-cradle with strands
of dreams abandoned. The mirror’s
gold etchings frame me; I see clutching
hands, sour-milk smile. I can feel
his smooth cheek, hot breath, dirty nails
streaking my face, his reeking weight. I want
to grasp a pool cue between my thighs
and rip out what he left behind, to probe
until I find the part of me that laughed
at jokes nobody else understood. But instead
I close my eyes, open my diamond smile, slip
my lips to that shape, and say Yes
to the next bearded cowboy that asks.

© Elizabeth Francois 2025


The Story of the Poem

This summer, I had the opportunity to go back to where I grew up in Colorado. I have so many memories (and feelings) about where I grew up, so revisiting the places where I experienced so much sadness and joy was really hard. I will probably write a post about that one of these days. Today is not that day, though.

This was a poem that I wrote when I was in college in my creative writing classes that I recently pulled out of my pile of things. I did a little bit of reworking it, with some help with from my brother and sister-in-law. I am pretty proud of how it turned out. This poem is dark and not based on a single experience that I had. It is mostly fictional, but the elements of reality are definitely there.

I am not sure what the prompt was for this poem, but I based it off of a little cafe on the Grand Mesa in Colorado called the D Bar J Cafe. It was one of the only restaurants in the area and, on very very special occasions, my dad would take us there to eat. When we went back to visit last summer, the cafe was still there, but it had a different name.

Here is a picture of the bar, looking pretty much like I remember it looking. I know the picture is crooked, but it is what it is.

A well-stocked bar with various bottles of liquor displayed on shelves, a clock on the wall, and a colorful countertop made from bottle caps.

Eleven Years, but Who’s Counting?

I can’t believe that it has been almost 11 years since my last post. So much has happened since then. The world is a vastly different place now. I haven’t gone back and looked at my previous posts because, honestly, I am afraid to. Not because of what I wrote, but because it might make me yearn for the times when I didn’t want to cry every time I found out what was going on in the world.

My child was only 8 years old back then. Now, they are living on their own and going to college. They are studying theater and ASL and discovering how hard things can be when you only work part time and go to school full time. I am so very proud of them.

Part of me wonders why I want to try this again, especially in the age of AI. I know that whatever I write will be scraped and monetized. Any images that I post will be utilized for input to create media. I wanted to get back to writing poetry and maybe publishing it here. If I do that, I run the risk of it being stolen. Then there is another part of me that thinks, screw it. It’s not like anything matters right now anyway.

Don’t worry. I’m fine. Really. I am. Just a little bit of existential dread poking through.

And maybe that is why I am going to start posting again. I need to do something to fight that feeling. I need to be putting some more art into the world, even if the only “person” who reads it is an AI scrubber. I have to share what I love, what makes me happy, what makes me sad, and all that.

Here’s to an attempt to make some meaning, to find some connection, to bring joy to others, and (hopefully) to recover some of the hope that I used to have.

Blog Reading

I’ve been remiss in reading the blogs that I follow. Things have been so crazy that I haven’t had a chance to visit my reader and see what my favorite bloggers wrote. Last week, I went through and set it so that  I receive updates whenever something new is posted.

I didn’t get any emails. Did you know that there is a box that, if you click it, blocks all emails, even emails that you’ve requested?

I do now.

I can’t wait to read what you’re writing, my wonderful bloggers. I’m sorry I was lost for a while.