Thursday, August 17, 2017

on the bus

on the bus home,
really, home, where there's blueberries
in the side yard, and stacks of cucumbers,
tomatoes on the vine,
a black dog who won't bother to greet me.
there will be a husband who will hug me
and a bed covered with his clothing and 
dirty socks and I'll throw them off the other side.
home is where I belong,
in spite of the black dog who never bothers
to say hello, and the clothes
and dirty dishes.
home is where I belong.

Wednesday, August 16, 2017


please give me a treat 
if I'm good, I'll be good, I'll
walk by your side, I'll do whatever
a dog can do.
please take me for a walk,
I like to pee on the bushes
and  mark where the deer have 
left their scat, I'll come
back whenever you have a treat 
in your hand.
I am a simple soul to love
with my wagging tail and 
liquid eyes, my furry body
and my affectionate for you.
love me, give me a treat,
I'll love you back.

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

A new phase in life

she will make new friends, she says,
the woman in pink was a private pilot and 
flew all over with her husband, Hank, now 
gone on to his greater rewards.
Florence used to say that.
She's a spritely 90 and will show the way.
Alice in the flowered shirt says she never
did anything interesting but I don't believe her.
they both talk and hear well, 
lunch was delicious.
yes, here she's in her wheelchair but we
left it behind three hours later when she
moved from being Nurse Ratchett's charge
to Samantha who smiles alot.
she's on the move into a new phase,
I hope she finds happiness.

Saturday, August 12, 2017

what happened to my flute practice?

what happened to my 20 minutes
lost on plane rides and reruns, my flute
rests quietly in its case, waiting.
my lips are slack, my lungs lazy and flat,
there is no music.
precious twenty minutes, come back to me!
tomorrow, call to me before others are sleeping
one wall away, before dogs doze and stars
brighten the sky.
twenty minutes, you are but a small sliver
of one day, find me tomorrow or let my
sadness fill my evening!

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Velcro de-mate

in your dreams
did you ever ponder the uniform rows and columns
of Velcro loops and hooks, of how they mate
and hold your posters to the wall, or the two
sides of your shoes together?
the unsung heros,
the unnoticed,
the unsullied.
they have a life, you know, their own
trials of broken links, the debris of endless
mates and demates, the reason for which
your poster eventually falls from the wall.
we measure such things in the lab
in our white smocks, hairnets and booties.
we work for you, our countrymen, in the 
pursuit of pure understanding of your

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

old friends

we resumed where we left off,
he's gotten heavy over the years
but his smile is the same infectious one
I remember.
I remind him of the last time I saw him in
a cocaine alcoholic haze and why I looked for him
for so many years just to see if
he survived.
he says I still have the indescribable
we resumed where we left off
taking time to catch up on the last 35 years.
the important stuff and the less so
the stuff of every day, of the daily commute
and the reason why he's gotten so heavy.
there is no reason.
and there's no real reason why I hadn't seen
him in 35 years except that the years
passed by and no one called.

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

It takes two

it takes two
to mother a young woman like her.
yes, the one who makes brownies and arranges
flowers for the bedside stand,
the one who only wears Lululemon yoga pants in her garden,
the one who loves her more than anyone in the world,
the one who is always
home and never busy.
but the other,
the one who is busy, who launches satellites
and writes poetry, who swirls in capoeria,
whose own daughter and son study the data from
the space instruments she worked on,
yes, that one whose cookies taste good but
don't look that great, whose yard is a jungle,
who hires a neighbor to tend to the flowers
because she's too busy doing other stuff.

yes, that second mother is needed for this
young lady launching her own career, her
own marriage, her own life.
she needs brownies and career advice,
we'll be there for her.

Monday, August 7, 2017

Tax Turmoil

everyone cringes at the arrival of a letter
from the IRS, there can be no good news
and most likely, very bad.
what year, what deficiency, what fines
are all in our minds, the dutiful taxpayer
who makes honest mistakes,
small mistakes that pale with the uncollected
fees from the rich who juggle loopholes
with ease amidst the many hands of tax
accountants, lawyers and CPAs.
tomorrow the letters will be reopened,
the errors explored, the checkbook opened,
as if I had money to spare.

Sunday, August 6, 2017

alone in the field but not lonely

alone in the field
surrounded by sky and fields of grass
the clouds drift overhead and
birds are singing in the background,
the scent of flowers drifts 
my leaves breathe in deeply and when
the rainfalls, my roots are drenched 
in sweet water,
it is not so lonely here as I stand
alone in the this field
I have the sky, the sun, the birds
and all the Heavens to myself.

Thursday, August 3, 2017

Kicking Ass

I have the instinct
honed from years of playing Jass,
no one knew Spades is the American form
of the Swiss National Card Game,
played on so many tables in so many dingy
apartments, in ramshackle houses, but always
with the requisite 36 cards.
I had forgotten that I often won.
I can kick ass in this card game,
saving my daughter from certain defeat
and leaving a grimace on the faces of
my male opponents.
Ah, victory is sweet
when you can get it.

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

I can trust her now

from here, she could kick me so fast 
I'd fall to the ground not knowing what hit me
she is powerful and only looking to be chillin'
I kept my distance
until she showed me that kicking wasn't her
goal, that she was nervous about showing herself
for the maculele,
she showed me her soft belly, her vulnerable side
she won't kick me
I can trust her now.

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

10:18 p.m.

10:18 p.m.
and nothing has been done
having to do with me
it's all about her,
the flight reservation to see her
to hold her hand
to be with her
to listen to her
to watch her journey towards death
we don't speak of such things but
we must
we are all headed down this road
I might as well watch it to be prepared.