the everyday

I went to work
listening to the latest commentary on Hillary versus Trump
as the wheels of my bike turned round and round
like the wheels on the bus
I loved that song.
I smeared peanut butter into a slot cut out of plastic sheet
to simulate smearing silicone adhesive into a 3-d printed
template on the surface of a heat pipe
deep inside a telescope.
they may laugh at me, but I saved them money.
Fast spinning asteroids don't pull apart -
just like columns of flour don't collapse.
we know this from experiments on the kitchen table.
when the propane tank is empty, the salmon didn't cook anymore.
the flute exercises are hard and discourging so I take lots
of breaks and write poetry.

Empowering Women

we are empowered to wear ridiculously tight jeans

and high heels for all our outfits,

from stillettos for suits 

wedge sandals for summer

and high heeled boots for fall

we are liberated with our beautiful calves

and tight butts, our aching backs,

bunions and corns on our feet

all in the name of womens' lib we

compete with each other for the best botox,

how many colors we can weave through our hair,

makeup and face lifts

we are so beautifully liberated.

the art of calligraphy, the beauty of a name

I scribbled my name

illegibly with my beloved fountain pen

I bought it in Paris.

Classy.

he cradled his cheap ball point pen,

waving it in the air like a conductor working

her orchestra, the glitter of her gown

temporarily blinding us

thus I watched him, transfixed

as the tip of his pen touched the paper

in great circular motions to form 

the first letter of my given name,

my name, which had never seemed so

beautiful as then, finishing with a 

grand flourish, releasing his pen

from paper at the same moment

as the conductor

lowered her baton 

to roaring applause.

three x three

very short poems
use few words
late at night

on being lesbian

I wouldn't know but I read about it
in a poetry book,
about a woman wearing 6 inch stilletto heels
on the arm of her white butch.
she was beautiful, the sheen of her black skin
dark against a glittering white sheath gown.
the whole room turned and gaped
in the biggest small town between
Chicago and L.A.
I would have stared, too,
breaking away from my white balding husband.
I know what he looks like 24/7
and I still love him.
But that would have been something to
imagine them together, the white butch
and her black lover, skin on skin under
flashing lights, who knows what they
could do.

Droplets on Saran wrap

how amazing.

and mysterious

that the condensed droplets near the 

edge of the bowl were so tiny

(steam having risen up from within,

each molecule landing on the inner surface,

migrating across to join another and another,

forming islands of droplets,

I want to know why the middle ones are bigger,

it must because the molecules are more mobile

perhaps the molecules close to the bowl edges

are chilly, a cold breeze blowing off 

the glass bowl.

Dictator and Slave

the house is cleaner

because I am the only one who can walk.

the piles of clothes and pillows, books, phone,

computer, and assorted various

have one less vector to spread them throughout.

I pick up after myself when it's just my clutter

for reasons unknown.

As dictator, I feed him what I think he should have, and how much.

As slave, I feed him what he needs, how much he wants and when he needs it.

I do the dishes and pick up before work

and after dinner.

he's starting to move out of the bed and 

pillows, and lawn chairs are migrating,

papers are showing up on the floor 

and my time as dictator and slave may be ending.

I'll kind of miss it.