Shopping for a Christmas Watch

that one had a plastic band
that one was pink
that one had big numbers
that one was too small
that one was ugly
that one was just right.
that night he fell asleep,
his wrist turned towards his face,
admiring his new watch.

Chick Flicks

they got to their seats early
since the film he wanted to see
was sold out; the only film
left was a chick flick.
the three previews were a good
indicator of what was to come
she wondered if he would make
it through to the end of the film
or she would find him at Laudisio
sucking down a few beers
while he waited for her to come
out after the movie.
somehow he made it only by
sighing regularly throughout
and rolling his eyes in agony.
at the end, the men all stumbled
out with relieved looks on their
faces, their dates looking happy
having gotten their romantic fix
for the weekend.

The Scale

As if a scale could lie, after
all the cake, pie, cookies,
champagne, wine, chocolate;
the cooking, the eating while
cooking, the eating,
the fresh bread, the parties.
Even if the scale could lie,
the waistband of our pants
could not, stretched to their limits,
each thread groaning as a gridiron
on a bridge groans under the weight
of each passing truck before finally
breaking in two, releasing the hapless
into the rushing river below.

Growing Up, Looking Back

she reached adolescence;
dying her hair purple, getting
tattoos, rebelling against authority
cutting the apron strings, walking
away with a bounce in her step;
frequently looking back to
make sure her mother was
still watching her and had
not gone inside to attend
to her own life.

Which Way

we all wonder where to go
in our party dresses, boots that
are made for walking, our
gleaming jackets, even when
our hats are on and we’re heading
out the door, to the destination
where there is less ice on the
sidewalk or we like their
margaritas or bean dip. tonight
the ice looks slippery in that direction
in the New Year, ripe with the
possibility of falling on our heads,
or slipping and sliding to a new
future, with our new boots
and fancy jackets, we take
the first steps with trepidation.

Words falling into Silence

she had something to write
about, but no words could
be spoken without falling into a
silence, as dust quietly settles onto
a windowsill, slowly building
up until the housekeeper notices
on her way out, and pauses a moment
to scrub the grime away.

Frank, Angela, or Norman

I’ve started rummaging in the basement
for the various pieces and parts of
an old aquarium, and my birthday
is coming up, too.
Shall I name him Angela, Frank
or Norman, or will another name
come to me in the dark velvet of
night, as it did last night,
then so promptly forgotten.
I’ll recognize him when I see him,
the one, who will greet me every
morning with a flick of her
tail, his mouth opening and closing
in anticipation of his breakfast,
my new fish.

photo courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/jelene/2297573290/