and then there were three

Two  years ago

she was but a twinkle in your eyes

a breeze in your breath, a swirl in the 

sunny blue skies.

Two years ago, you would not even have thought of

such happiness that your home did not fall into the garage,

or that Dr. Karen would become Dr. Professor 

McKinnon, ahem.  

you were unknowing of what was to come, 

in front of all of us, you made your vows

the family cried, even that tall brother of yours,

the brusque one, even he could not hold back a 

deluge of emotion - we were still standing,

even the slightly balding red head on crutches. 

you know the one.  

it was a glorious day in Boulder, CO.

now, two years later, quarantined and restless,

the never ending grey of smoke drifting overhead,

here you are, the lovers Chris and Karen,

the result of this love, little Mira.

it’s a happy, if not tired, anniversary,

and we are here to celebrate with you.

Happy anniversary, my beloveds. 

Inhaling books

She said she inhales books.

whole.  Or maybe she eats them.

Complete paragraphs gone, in one gulp

each sentence a mere string of spaghetti slipping

down her throat.

She wheezes in chapters.

The pages rustle in the breeze.  

and when her lungs are full, 

her belly extended, 

she spits out commas and periods

disconnected words that make no sense

winded, not even sure of what she read

so she sits, and she reads, again

and understands.  

Mira in the Mirror

I had to look through the mirror at her,

my grand-child, busily working in her pint-size

office, equiped with pop-up owls and rotating beads,

a pint-size piano and clacking rooster tails.

She was not to be disturbed.  

We're friends now

Grimaces to grins,

Taciturn to tickles.

Cold to cuddly.  

Every morning, I work, today it's about vacuum systems,

Every morning, she works, grabbing, talking, reading

She takes three naps, I take one

We are both tuckered out at the end of the day.

Where are we

Between one home and another house

in the desert, hidden from the searing sun

beneath a metal shade, cold air blasting onto

my toes

man, it's hot, 117F and on the way to Zzyz,

an unknown future including GrandDaughter Mira,

a house with an empty garage

we will occupy this space and form it

as it will form us, this empty space to be filled

with as yet unknowns.