Larry

whenever you might be thinking you've had it tough,
remember those who have struggled and worked more
that you ever thought was possible,
remember those who love their mothers even though
they had to leave to seek a better life at age 14.
you may think you had it tough until you found out
someone else returned home only to find that all
their friends were in prison or dead, that was their destiny.
and when you can't find anyway to smile, remember those
that smile in spite of it, while reaching out to those who
have yet less.
I'll keep Larry in my heart as that person, I'll smile
with a wide open smile at those who have less,
I have more than most
for which I am thankful.

Pura Vida

the big questions
kayak tour to the island across the bay
or up the river to see birds and monkeys,
or drink margaritas on the beach
and take a long siesta; the only question
which fan will cool our bodies most effectively.
It's so hot.
everyone says hello and the ceviche melts in my mouth.
such difficult questions of which tequila to buy,
we overspent terribly on the sunscreen
but Stephen is already burned.
shall I lie in the hammock to sip my margarita
or sit up and write this poem,
now I will swing in the hammock and
read Mrs. Dalloway.
pura vida.

Packing

on the seventeenth attempt to pack for a trip,
I put away three baskets of clothes before even starting.
sweaters, underwear, bras, jeans, socks, workout clothes....
mostly black, does that indicate my mood most of the time.
it's cold here and I can't imagine heat,
not sure if shorts will really work so I pack a cashmere
 sweater to hedge my bets.
I forgot to buy a nice swimsuit, so I'll have to
bring that horrendous second hand old lady suit.
I bought it at a thrift shop for a buck and planned
to replace it five years ago.
i never did and it tags along for every trip.
I'll pack my crummy flute, convincing myself that
I'll practice for the next recital but I probably won't.
but now, I'm tired and yearn to sleep a few hours
before the moon is just hovering overhead at
3 am when we'll have to get up and go.
Onward to Costa Rica!

When I am old

when I am old,
I will read trashy French novels while smoking Camels,
still wearing my flannel pajamas at 2 in the afternoon.
empty coffee cups will surround me in the morning
to be replaced by empty wine glasses after noon,
there will be no job and the grandchildren won't be allowed
into the blue haze of my little house.
I will be outlawed in Boulder where smoking is not allowed.
when I am old,
I won't give a damn about other people's opinons,
I'll write translations from English to French,
making sure to include all the French swear words
that Michele taught me.
That way, no one will think I am not a native speaker.
Once a month, I'll wash the sheets along with my pajamas.
No one will notice or care.
On Sundays, I will shower and go see the children,
I will hug my grandchildren and feed them candy.
Then I will go home and relax after
 a demanding day well spent.

Worms

embarrassing.

I put my butt down on the ground so no one will see.

I hope Dad hides the medicine box that says "De-worming".

he found out that I got worms from eating dead mice

or other unsavory things, disgusting, he says.

Mom is even more grossed out and I feel

embarrassed for them.

They're doing laundry of everything I've been

in contact with and checking my behind.

Me, I'm fine with it even though I pretend to 

be otherwise to they'll feel better and 

we can pretend I won't do it again, 

eat that gross, disgusting, dead stuff,

but we all know inside that I will,

and I'll love every bite.

The box says to deworm every 6 months.

That's fine if it makes them feel better about it.

Me, I don't care, it's all in the life of a dog. 

The Old Scott Bicycle

My first real bike, before I knew that the bike

should be the right size for the rider.

it didn't matter, I fell in love at first sight,

the rust colored frame, the fact that the 

seller was the ex-wife of a Tour de France

cyclist, how romantic...

speed would come naturally.

and so, we spent time together and 

rode many roads.

and now, my first real bike becomes

my daughter's bike, it will fit her better

but will never be loved as much.

The first snow

we have been waiting, now 

bundled against the cold, I jog down the

street bathed in the glare of a headlights,

head down to the wind.

we have waited so long and the skis

are trembling in the basement, 

S is buying whiskey to warm us.

the snow is falling with abandon in the 

mountains, swirling dervishes of white

will cover the slopes followed

by the brittle crisp early morning,

the new snow will sparkle with 

the sun, our skis will whir.