GS: #1

we watched a border collie race back and forth

across the field, fetching, retrieving,

the ball sailing across blue sky

the sun felt so warm on our skin.

Playing capoeira

the man with the red gloves

balances on two hands perilously

as the man from Guatamala runs to set up

the timer on the camera

and she, in the pink top, abs of steel

she cartwheels over me

and she in the yellow swings her legs

over my ducked shoulders

I bring the wisdom of age.

black/white/grey

a black and white haircut
trimming errant strands, the ones which
stayed, the ones who left and came back
her hair is so unusual
a black dog tucks her tail to the
sound of the vacuum, filled with grey,
the clink of a lost wedding ring as it tumbles
out of the tray
he lost it years ago.
after marrying her
it bothered his finger

writing in the morning

while my tea brews,
the dog circles my feet hoping for crumbs,
while my husband reads what's new on Twitter
and because I don't get enough sleep at night
and I don't know why it takes me so long to go
to bed, it certainly is partly this poem,
the poems at night that don't come when it's dry
inside, and my mind is empty, I insist.
I insist on writing something and so let me
insist in the morning so I don't have to at
night when the stars are struggling to be seen,
my covers are calling to be warmed by my
warm body.

money

they are trapped in Senegal,
no money, no exit, no way to the future
they desire of higher education, a chance to
live abroad, they have no money.
I thought it could be different.
I thought it could be different if you were
smart, ambitious, curious, that money
would not hold you back, money was
something that could be worked out like
a student visa, or a bad marriage.
I know that it's different now and I write
back to them, these two young men,
bright eyed and hopeful that I could help
them, point to a magic passageway
to America.
I know I can't.

insurance

his car insurance is less than mine,
a few pennies here, a ten,
he drives a Subaru, I drive a Honda,
he's 47 and I'll be 60
he's a he, I'm a she
I'll file a complaint
I'll shout from the rooftop
I'll be glad I don't have to use it.

Write more postcards

write more postcards
smile more and laugh until your belly hurts
go to work as if it were an adventure
call your grandmother and
don't forget your first real love,
the one you still dream about.
Keep dreaming.
Wake up with optimism and
fall asleep with no regrets
invite your neighbors for wine
be more generous
Above all, don't wait until tomorrow
seize the moment and live.