Mi Casa

I was the minority.
I'm not sure if I was welcome or not,
their dark faces, their gleaming beautiful white teeth,
their black black hair
they are stunning and glorious in their blackness
and I am white.
I indulged in
Grilled shrimp perched on a blanket of avocade covering a plantain bed.
If I could eat that every day, I'd be the happy minority
instead of Ceasar salad in a white bar with a $12 glass of wine
I went back there tonight
and I brought my white friends
we were the minorities
and I ate grilled shrimp perched on a blanket of avocado covering a plantain bed
I was happy.

I remember, do you?

I remember our laughter,

my hand warm in his, dancing like  moonlight

across the crooked wooden bridge,

the gurgle of water against the row boat,

swimming under moonlight.

I remember

nestling against him at night 

in his tent, hidden back in the woods,

I was so young.

I remember you, Nao, giggling in 

the kitchen, listening to Maggie's reprimands

and her delicous zucchini ratatouille,

the gardens and Will, the smell of fresh 

laundry filling our nostrils as we made 

beds, cleaned bathrooms and 

built a crooked bridge together.

do you remember, Nao?  

we danced like moonlight across

our crooked bridge, shucked our clothing

and swam under the stars.

Packing Arpeggios

I almost forgot my arpeggios in my endless

piling of clothing, toiletries, work papers, why

is it never easier for me, why not as easy

as an arpeggio gliding effortlessly up the scales,

smoothly transitioning between registers,

the ear soothing to the key changes, from

major to minor, from fortissimo to pianissimo.

i'll bring them with me in hopes of smooth

and effortless travels.

Hiding Chocolate

having no self control when it comes to chocolate

it must be hidden from sight, or in another room

that threatens me when I slink in, or perhaps

a dispenser that doles out chocolate for large 

sums of money, and only three times a day,

small pieces.

I spotted this chocolate behind a picture frame,

surprised that it was in my office, surprised that

most of it was still wrapped up, waiting for me.

I love that stuff, coarse ground Mexican chocolate,

bittersweet, ground almonds, the grit polishes

your teeth.

and so, I ate a piece, and another, and several

and another just in case before I put it in a drawer

in the next office, where he will notice how often

I come in, and look at me with a wry smile

asking me how many pieces I have had today.

three, I say.

that's enough.

training

best not to know it was 97 F
at the start of the ride
uphill, my legs pumping for France.
small roads twisting and turning,
hidden in forests and byways, the lure
of riding them, picnic in my basket,
a friend at my side
but I need to train for these three weeks
I need to feel the burn, feel my lungs exploding,
feel the heat on my skin, feel as if I can't breathe
enough, that my legs will turn to jelly on the next turn.
because
just because
maybe I can make it up the mountain, with
my picnic basket and a bounce in my heart.
maybe, just maybe
if I try in this wretched heat,
if not,
I won't.
that's for sure.

exhausted before vacation

the problem with work is
it interferes with play
with planning
and cooking, hiking and shopping,
from doing anything else but
working.
exhausted before vacation,
too exhausted to think of vacation,
to plan for vacation, to look forward to
vacation.
that is the problem with work,
it interferes with life, the life my
brother is having taking off anytime to
ride a bike, drive a car, take a boat,
hike a trail, have a lunchtime BBQ,
and work,
well, it inteferes with a well thought out
poem, a well played flute sonata, a beautiful
garden, coffee at noon, reading in bed,
doing nothing.
work interferes with too much life.

the windows had no curtains

the windows had no curtains
like the Stanley Hotel in the Shining.
I've stayed there and I was booked to stay here.
the innkeeper and I climbed three sets of stairs,
each set narrower than the previous
arriving at my room, a small iron framed bed
adjoining a living room shared by three suites.
I dropped my bag and left for the evening.

My friend and I came back late and we
reminisced over our last adventures together
not to be repeated.

I settled in alone for a needed good night's sleep.

Awake, awake, the party has started!
the inn keeper and her family laughing and
talking, I try to sleep, blocking the sounds the
best I could, and again, AWAKE, AWAKE!
the party continues.
if not for my pajamas and embarrassment for
the hostess, I would have marched out and demanded
SILENCE!

and in the morning, sleepily descending the three
sets of stairs, each one less narrow than the last,
i am puzzled to see a single lonely setting at the table.
an older gentleman, no doubt the husband looks back
at me, quizzically.

and where is your wife and her family who arrived
last night and were talking and laughing upstairs?
his face turned white.
no one was here but you, miss.
even we were sleeping elsewhere.