En route

Hello Dakar,  En route, Tuesday night, January 14.  I admit laughing at the number of random bags that the Senegalese jam into the overhead bins..very different from the orderly arrangement of black suitcases of the Amer     , ome white dude got all mad about it but recovered nicely.  My seat mate was very tall and kind of large for a Senegalese man.  He really barely squeezed into the seat.  The spacing seemed even tighter than usual.  We chattedd.  He left Senegal at age 6 so speaks Wolof and English. He works in a football stadium and I guess it's the off season...A woman across the aisle is a nurse in Washington, DC.  Of course, both going to see family.  

We landed at 8 am on Wednesday, January 15.  Saliou came to pick me up and it was great to see him again.  That day is kind of a blur, being jet lagged, but I managed to meet up with my adoptive son, Ameth, who was wearing the Boulder T-shirt I gave him last year.  ; )  There he is.. the view from my window out to the sea, and some yummy food.

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singing at the end of the show

It was Bob Dylan, or maybe not, but a man was singing
while the credits rolled and the words were poems with music
I have not sung for awhile, these pages blank for weeks.
my mind has wandered through space, watching molecules
dance off surfaces, forming icy dendrites that shimmer in
starlight.  that is a poem.
and dreamed of beaches where young black men
move as fast as the wind, a ragged soccer ball flying
impossibly high towards the sun.
their upturned faces and limbs poised to catch it,
sending it to the poorly marked, but well known, goal post.
I haven't been writing in black and white, but thoughts have
swirled in my mind, in the darkness of night bleeding into
daytime.
I am singing inside, sometimes with no words, only
a beating heart.

when you don't like someone

when you don't like someone
for no reason
just something
instinctual, their smell, the tone of their voice,
how they stand, even at a distance
but the dislike settles
in, uninvited,
unwelcome.
and we fight against it
inside our heads
talk never works
the best is to hope that your big
smile reaches into both of you
so maybe you can like them
just a little bit
more.

Badou, mon fils

I talk to him more than my own
children who emerged from deep inside me
and yet this smile shines into my soul
a smile that beams at me from across the sea,
he awaits my arrival, as I await
impatiently to be bathed in his
dazzling smile.

Working while snowing

I remember when we couldn't work when it snowed
roads silent, an occasional whoosh as a car rolled by,
do you remember watching the snow spitting out from
the tires, small patterned clump of tread marks.
I wanted to collect them in my mittened hands
before heading home.
maybe there was a book at home that I could pretend
to browse while drinking a hot chocolate, or
I could say I read it while I took a nap.
the computer is set up now, two screens, a bluetooth
keyboard and mouse, remote access won't let me
pretend that I cannot work.
I can watch the birds in the tree out my window, and the
snow tumble to the ground as squirrels make their way.
I can still dream of snow and drink a hot tea,
I'll still take that nap.

Dead mice

I was notified of the dead mouse.
I was surprised it did not smell, having
been dead for some time, its rather dessicated
corpse clamped in the trap, eyes having lost
their sheen long ago.
I was notified of the chewing last night,
having slept through his having awakened
and prowling the house looking for traps,
finding rat traps he carefully set in the cabinet.
in the morning, an orange caution sign warning
of loaded rat traps.
Mice don't trigger rat traps
so I put them away.
He's a true coward around mice
Bella is a true loser at killing mice
Only I am the Mouse Hunter.

Montron - a gift from the Dordogne to Daniel and Tori

Of course
go the South of France, Dordogne
where this was handcrafted,
buy some cheese in a small market
a baguette and some dried salami.
then open this knife and cut fine slices
for a grand picnic.
Of course,
you can use this knife to open a letter
instead of a machete,
or slice open the top of a soft-boiled egg.
Of course,
this knife can be used to cut flowers from the garden,
to create a beautiful bouquet for your lover,
or, in a pinch, to open a beer
or strip the foil wrapper from a bottle of champagne.
You can
use it to cut tension, waving it wildly in the
air, laughing, when a silly thing becomes a
point of contention between you and your loved one
Of course,
as you hold this knife in your hand
stroking the smooth boxwood handle with the fine engraving
think of me and know how much I love
you both.
Congratulations and best wishes for a long and happy life together,
Daniel and Tori!