Don't let me stop you

Don't let me stop you from running by this morning
I'm just passing through on my way to the greener pastures on the other side
and then on to the creek for a long drink, it's been a long night.
It's early yet and I didn't know you would be out so early with the pink
still in the clouds and a chill in the air, did you know that your hat is
quite unattractive in brown knit with Deer Trail Road Race written on it?
you so totally lacking in femininity while I delicately cross the bike path,
my slender legs and neat brown hooves look so much more
refined than your purple sneakers and dreadful striped running pants.
Next time I see you on the path, please look a bit better and for goodness sake,
run lightly and more quickly, I'll nod in your direction and wink.

Moved in to my new Office

everything is there in the boxes,
twelve of them stacked against the wall,
a few more tucked underneath the table,
ok, a couple more in my car, and well,
ok, a red plastic basket next to my coat
on my desk with the dirty coffee cup and
well, ok, my razor scooter is on top of
the file cabinet and a honeycomb panel
from an old experiment is on the floor
I hope I don't trip on it.

Moving Offices

ten folded boxes and two rolls of tape leaning against the door
piles of papers, office detritus and more, to pack and seal,
load onto my narrow shoulders and carry across the parking lot
to my new office
all the books I hoped to have read
bottles of ionic liquids waiting to be tested
a motley assortment of jackets and shoes.
the first boxes neatly arranged and labeled
containing a single set of identifiable objects.
I seal the last box late at night
the most random objects piled unevenly inside
marveling at what we gather in our
office nest.

once or twice

once
or twice
tonight, I have
wanted to reach across
the table, across the room
to the screaming child and sssshhh'ing
mother, how clueless is she to think
anyone could find her offspring anything but intensely
annoying, as well as spewing germs across the cafe
towards all of us innocents sandwiched between each other, suffering.

all text

it's all text these last few days
like my life, no color, no faces,
no arms, no legs, no trees, no rainbows.
I'm just coughing like the last two months,
the cough that never goes away and never
gives up, the cough that never stops giving.
just white on black, striped socks
inside white to keep my feet warm
in the cold, dank day here in Colorado.
how dare you, weatherman, give me
rain all week and rain today in Colorado
with frost on my jacket when I arrive
at work to match the frozen ice
on my handlebars.

Home Dog Bed Clean Pajamas

the house is still there
yellow as usual waiting to be
swathed in Christmas lights.
the dog, wagging her tail,
she knew we were coming home today
and wonders if she will get extra treats.
Bed, oh wonderful bed, that does not
resonate with every motion of the Other.
freshly laundered pajamas that dried
in the dry Colorado air to replace
pajamas moist from Oregon
humidity.
Ah blessed home,
how I love thee.

Away from Home

first thing at home
I'd be up filling the kettle and cutting fruit
checking the news and hoping for the best.
breakfast at a local diner today
a heavy cheerful waitress with crooked teeth asks us
if we plan to buy a car when we meant the movie
Lincoln.
the clouds hang heavy over this sky
we are happy there is no rain, at home
the sun is shining and the question would be
what time to go hike or bike, here we
wonder if we need to bring an umbrella
or just the raincoat and what we can
find for lunch, or sooner yet, a good coffee.
no extended family at home, just a black dog
who wants to eat all the time,
she has such simple needs,
so clearly expressed,
so easily satisfied.
if only family were so
easy.