Fountains for Goldilocks and the Three Bears

I have only seen five water fountains in Texas.

Goldilocks Papa, Mama and Baby Bear and a friend

could all drink at once.

the little boy could use the smallest fountain, or

big momma could lift him to a taller one, sparing her

back from leaning over too far, he was a hefty one,

like so many Americans,

we stuff our jeans full and have a second helping.

I liked the tableau, though, and enjoyed watching

the clientele survey the possibilities,

a sweet choice we can make, there are so few.

Raining in Texas

it's raining in Texas.

my swimming suit sits at the bottom of my bag,

the swimming pool resonates with every droplet,

my brain is swimming with models of space debris

and micrometeroids light the atmosphere at night.

I'd eat crawfish if the gumbo weren't so good,

and drink red wine while reviewing perl code and

wondering if all of it won't overflow and join

the streams flowing down the gutters.

I'll hold that all inside and let the sparks

fly at night, connecting everything into

one cosmic understanding.

packing, again, still slow

I know why it takes so long
to pack, because I remember that
the plants must be watered sometime,
so may as well be now.
my sweetheart needs sustenance,
home made granola and yogurt,
the dog needs a walk, and I need a nap.
the laundry needs to be done, and I need
to find a good book to read, knowing
it is unlikely that I will ever crack the
cover, I need to write that card I've been
meaning to write, and my socks need
to be sorted.
I know why it takes so long,
so much to be done that should
have been done long ago.

we should be so small

we are so small 

tiny besides the single rock

that towers over us, covered in

the purest of snow fallen from the skies

this grey morning,

we drive by, the car windows

speckled with liquid droplets

that distort our view, we too

could use a new lens to see

ourselves as we should be,

dancing lightly on this 

magnificent Earth, our only home,

the most precious gem in 

the universe,

let's look through a new lens

and live differently, to protect

that upon which we depend

for our very 

lives.

What do you want?

what do you want from me,

that doleful look, is life really so glum

that you linger on the cold floor instead

of your comfy couch and stare at me 

as I try to ignore you.

I am bad with neediness as a regular diet

so it's best if you go off to do other things

now, yes, now, go on, go on.

I wave my arms at you in the direction

of the living room and you reluctantly

slink away, tail between your legs, ears

down, so disappointed.

Spelling Errors

what happened
i never used to make them.
a "c" instead of an "s",
where instead of were,
or wear, or armadilo instead
of armadillo.
they said that would happen one day,
the double and and, and I would
not notice until the next day,
horrified I delete the second and,
and hope for the best the next day
knowing that I sometimes don't
remember how to spell things
and rely on spell check.
technology is wonderful.

Making the Investment in Love

we hide behind a wall of anonymity,

carefully crafted works, the personal brand,

looking the other way, 

behind them,

no eye contact,

parsing words and polling the

response, hoping for the best,

until the rubber hits the road and

we look in each other's eyes and 

wonder what the ROI is, was

there adequate investment, 

well funded development time,

the right product, the right

customer base, 

you have to get out from behind

the wall and talk to the customer

about what's most important.

in life, 

it's love. 

Snow Day

puppies frolic in fresh snow

children with sleds slide down slippery hillsides

bikes leave their mark,

one wavy line, then two, back to one.

the trees are dressed in pure white

the sound of cars muffled, an 

occasional buzzing of studded snow

tires chatter on the road.

A bench gazes out at the creek at the 

bottom of the bank, no one is sitting

there but it is not lonely.

What love needs to survive

He makes me
homemade pizza on Tuesday nights,
a carefully styled TV tray plied with a
full glass of red wine, entertainment and
a black dog resting at our feet, precisely
positioned over the large stain on the rug.
The rug that should be replaced, but never is.
I like it because it's whimsical and fits me.
Love needs separate covers on our shared bed
so that when he flings off the covers during
the night, my warm cocoon is not disturbed.
We always start the night with cuddles and
move away when we hear the even
breathing of the other.
He is the husband who smiles at me first thing
in the morning,
I am the wife who makes homemade
granola while writing poems in her
head.

American Sniper: A Film

his pupils dilate in a clear blue background
of shattered buildings and rubble piles,
machine gun fire scatters across the landscape.
in this, a heart will either break or harden
like a glass shard.
the grey terrain covered in sand smothers
everyone, each fighting for his survival
and those of his family, women have no
voice, only tears.
this world is not a global community,
it's a slaughterhouse
we can only weep.

Three Helpful Sentences: A Prompt from Monday Free Write Night with Ana

first
do they have to whole sentences
calling her by name gets her attention
and is helpful as she does a full body smile
that reverberates and reflects from all of us
generating a thousandfold increase in happiness in the world.
You mean the world to me, vaguely stated
as you look away doesn't cut it,
but asking me if I want to share your spaghetti
is enormously useful, my mouth waters
just writing this, or
telling me you'll run out to the store
to get more milk so I can make yogurt
for us,
or I'll drive you to DIA so we can talk
uninterrupted for 20 minutes, just think
of all the meaningful sentences
we can say to each other.

Plugins

what are they.
do they make a toaster run hotter
than normal, or make the bathroom
smell better after the morning rush is over.
I don't understand these "plugins" that
relate to computers
all I know is I made a mistake at work
and I need to fix it and I can't get my remote
desktop since I had to reload my operating system
and the hairdryer doesn't work anymore and
my socks don't match,
one was eaten by the black dog
and
what will I eat for lunch tomorrow
when the plugin is still unplugged
and the toaster blew the braker.
I never read that sign before now
telling me that the toaster and the microwave
can never be run at the same
time.

The Evidence

we drink to help with French

pronunciation and vocabulary.

we chirp "merveilleux", toasting

with champagne flutes, then getting 

down to the business of draining three

bottles of wine,

between sips we demolish a Camembert,

a couple of baguettes, a plate of fruit and banana cake,

comprising a healthy mix of alcohol and refined foods.

We are only four, and as the evening

progresses, we enjoy our enhanced fluency, 

although our teacher 

may not have noticed.

this morning, I admire our efficiency,

the scattered remains of empty bottles, flutes 

and wine glasses fill the table.

C’était une belle soirée. 

Watch their hips, not their lips

Talk is cheap.
Stunningly good looks are dangerous.
Give me a wide gap between the front teeth
and an honest smile.
He can be slightly balding, grey hair framing his ears.
He'll show up in person.
I learned this about people,
the smooth talk, the empty promises, the excuses,
heartbreak
until I grew up and shredded the resumes and
peeled off their glitter.
I looked in corners and against the walls,
in the woods, at men walking dogs
in flannel lined jeans and jackets
with stains on the front,
minding their own business.
He showed up, he didn't
need to explain.

Learning to relax

relaxation, it 

comes so easily to a black dog

on a sunny day, sprawled in front of the door

soaking up the heat, occasionally lifting her

head to see if any treats are heading her way.

I hustle about doing dishes, 

huffing and puffing, 

planning and plotting,

while she lifts an occasional eyebrow

wondering why I don't settle into a 

spot in the sun, 

relaxation, it

comes to easily to a black dog

basking in the sun, so hard

to me.

a tiny poem

in tiny letters
is written a tiny poem,
tiny fingers on tiny hands
tread across a tiny keyboard.
a tiny voice calls out,
here I am!
I am small
and tired!
I am hidden behind
a tiny tea towel
screen printed with a
tiny pig whose lips
are coated in peppermint,
whose hands are protected
in tiny gardening gloves.
a tiny bar of chocolate
lingers nearby, soon all to
be gobbled up by a tiny
box with tiny postage
stamps to be picked up by
a tiny postman driving a
tiny truck.

Letting Go

the vacuum was wide and dark
there were no words and no voice,
black text on a white background
did not spell I love you. the new leaves
of a tree can fill part of
a vacuum, a blue sky, the early
dawn colors, the smiles of
others, but between the spaces
is still a vacuum which must be left
fallow until it fills itself.
I can only watch from a distance.

Between the lines

I read between the lines,

the expression on her face didn't match

the well chosen words.

The chair felt hot on the seat of my jeans

but my thighs were cold from melting snow.

we ordered wine and I wanted to empty

my glass quickly.

I know the truth when I hear it

whether the words are my own

or someone else's.

I can detect lies instantly by the

tenor of the human voice, the 

shake in the handwriting, which

way the words slant.

the glass was empty,

I picked up my bag and

left.

Pizza Night

every Tuesday
it's pizza night, I smell it coming out
of the oven when I walk in.
My reward for working out.
Tonight it is covered in crispy kale
and the wine is particularly potent,
we snuggle on the couch and watch
something on TV that dissolves all the
mundane worries of the day.
drones fly across the TV screen,
blondes with psychiatric disorders
or handcuffed Americans in foreign lands
drift across the screen and in the back of my mind
I know that this happens in real life.
Today ISIS burned a man alive in a cage,
I will never forget hearing that news.
It will be etched forever in my memory.
there was no smell of pizza or fine wine,
a human life ended in the most horrible way.
Can there be any deeper sorrow.
we try to drown it out with pizza and wine
for a few moments, but it never
goes away.

I'm a highly paid Professional

I'm a highly paid professional,
simulating collisions of space junk with
orbiting telescopes.
I can make yogurt from warm milk,
and turn bland mushy oats into
the crunchiest, most perfectly sweet
granola.
All these things keep men close to me.
They gaze into my eyes wondering
what other talents I have up my sleeves
besides writing poetry with my eyes
closed, and serenading them with
the Car Horn Sonate.
Yes, I am a highly paid professional
who sips decaf cappuccino's at
Alfalfa's, only to stare wide-eyed
at the ceiling all night long.

Moon

dusk

on a quiet road heading home

a blue sky and rose colored clouds

stretching across the horizon,

wait, then, a full moon hovering

just above, then dropping into the 

clouds like a droplet falling into a 

vast lake, joining in some cosmic

dance of sun and clouds, winds and

rains, snow and a full moon, we may

be the only ones who watched this

play as we traveled down this lonely

read heading home.