Recollecting

Before label and face
I was sardine packed
In the galactic tin
Cozy
Where
Gravity befuddles and
Our models break down
We were all
Catapulted with abandon
One point to
Expansive Ocean
Wrenched from the cold womb
Not yet capable of kicking and screaming

I
Exhaled to build the planet’s atmosphere
Braved land with stomach home-sick for water
Moved from trees to plains
Hunted in tribes
Drove hammer to nail
Was born a thousand times
Died just as many

Recently
Fingered accordion to temper the taste for Finland
Drunken bar-fights to hide the pain of leaving home
Hands callused from tending to the soil
Scars like medals of honor tacked to my soul
I was too strong to bow
God, war, and patriotism
The idols of the United States
Instead we
Served jail time with chin high

Today
My spine appears to be made of titanium
My heart still soft and tender
I lasso dreams just long enough
For others to pop them with a pin
Still remember who I was back then
Often unable to recall who I am these days

A different take on the identity crisis

I wish someone had told me...

How hard this teaching thing was going to be, before I dove into the pool head first

How harsh Minnesota winters could be

I don't (and probably never will) have all of the answers

And that was OK

How hard it is to get up and go to a group of strangers that all seem to enjoy writing

That these earrings do not go with this outfit, that there is rip in the back of these jeans, and that I really don't belong here

How much I ramble so I don't end up rambling the night away

What was in the punch

That orange is not the new pink

I wish someone would let me know their name, once in a while.

That children have a mind of their own sometimes (OK, all the time.)

I wish someone had told me at least once that I was smart.

I wish someone told me (at least once) that I was pretty...instead of saying that looks aren't important.

That I can be strong and tactful at the same time, that I can make friends at the same time I make enemies, and that I don't need a group of "Friends" to validate my very existence.

That money doesn't grow on a tree in my backyard and that digging to China is harder than it looks.

That San Francisco is more than 1,000 miles away.

I wish someone had told me that I was over 1,000 miles away from home and I would never, ever, need any help.

I wish someone had told me how to survive.

Identity crisis of EPIC proportions PART DEUX

The thoughts drift in

You're too ugly
You're not thin enough
You're being absurd
I'm not creative enough
I don't have enough experience
I am wasteful
I am a waste
I could have done that so much better

I don't deserve the respect of a teacher
I'm not a teacher
Why would I want to be a teacher?
I can barely speak
I'm too smart for this
But I can't show it
I'm working daycare
No one wants to hire me
I'm not shooting high enough

My parents wouldn't approve
It's not what I really want
I don't know what I really want
I can't concentrate on anything
I need to leave
I need to stay
I need to prove myself
I've already proven myself
But why won't anyone notice?

Don't listen to me
I don't know what I'm talking about
I can't even dress myself
Look awful
Feel awful
Black cloud
Foggy
Don't look at me
Please help me

Why aren't you taking care of yourself?
There is no time
No time at all
I want to prove myself
I need to show them what I'm made of
I am jello
I am nothing
I want to help
I want help

Everything I know is wrong
Is it?
What if I fail again?
I can't fail again
I just can't
Shut up and get over yourself
Stupid

Identity crisis of EPIC proportions

It was a disaster
My milk is two days old
And I knew no one

I walked back to my car alone
To drive back to my house
That I rent from the guy who was supposed to show up

That sounds different than the way it is supposed to
I’m not involved
With anyone in any way

I loved listening to stories from staff
Meeting people I haven’t met before
Still I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t supposed to be there

I don’t belong
To anyone
Not even myself

HZL to GRN

upon my 25th year on this earth
my eyes have changed.
from HZL to GRN,
according to my drivers license.

i secretly scribbled down the change of color
as the woman looked right through me.
"read the top line" she said.
"stedfhuwldmhl" i read aloud.
but i really wanted to say
"i can be whoever i want."

how about this:

loss of 10 pounds.
donating my organs.
listening to the crunchiness of autumn.
placing old secrets in new chambers.
bringing back the dead.
putting death to my demons.
claiming silence in a noisy world.
opening closed doors.
asking questions without answers.
living in a home full of empty rooms.
desiring my deepest fears.

if only i could re-invent myself.
just check yes here,
no there.
pass it on.
process the fees.
print me a new card
with real changes.

and there is

no

expiration date.

renewable upon request.

Snapshot of Love #4

Maybe
I will let this wind
Enter my veins
Let it carry me
To a new calling

We could
Cross this street
And take the bus in the opposite direction
Go down Lyndale
Until we can’t go any further
Hop onto a different line
End up in one of the suburbs
We could
Smile
For real at first
You
Would stay at home
I would get a few more ties
I would trade my diet
For an all-you-can-eat buffet
You would sacrifice
Red-dyed hair for
Lipstick and fingernail polish
Our house
Indecipherable
Our affect
Blunted

Maybe
You can stay where you are
And
I will stay where I am
Today
Let me ignore the wind

talking to strangers

His ears were red but his eyes were desperate,

a simple question asked with monumental effort:

"Does this train stop at McDowell?"

Yes it does.  Tense shoulders never relaxing,

embarrassment keen.  We never have all the answers.

He had a grizzled smirk that was ten feet wide.

Sunshine brings out spaghetti-strap tanks 

and makes shy men brave. 

"Well, well, that's what I'm talkin' about!"

Hope I made his day.

She had a wispy mustache and a lost little smile.

She carried three bags filled with things, a lifetime of uncertainties.

Stopped me at the crosswalk:

"What do you think of the market?  Do their vegetables taste good?"

We talked as the light changed once, then twice.

He perched on the stoop of a vacant office building,

noticing what I hadn't, as I braked for the light.

"Your bike tire's flat... gonna make it?"

No air pump, but genuine concern.

He stormed through the park, and saw 

the girl on the bench, with iPod headphones and a book.

Her friendly but wary smile ripped the frustration loose.

"Get the fuck out of my face, you stupid-ass bitch."

He is a realist.  A stranger's smile, no matter how polite,

won't improve his lot.

scene from a Phoenix grocery store parking lot

the wind rose like bread 

i paused to savor the smell

dust blew in my eye

sonuvabitch

the thing about the wind is
you can't see it           bend it               break it
                      mix it               separate it

you can't catch it and set it before you
                          trick it
                       trap it
                   you could negotiate

the presence of it
      gauge
   the speed
      at which
   it grips

a sock strapped to a flagpole

measuring wind
                  physical only
        in what it can animate

gluttonous
            wind, wanting to hold
                            all it touches.

Ignoramus

Hateful words

erupting putrid, ignorant, deadly

from uneducated mouths, choked by

residue left from another time:

When men and women and

children

were beaten bloody

for drinking from a forbidden fountain,

for a different view.

Words that soil minds, poison

truth.  What is the value of "truth"

when it's claimed by complacent white men?

Fearful words that reek

of disillusionment, dissatisfaction,

insecure lies.

Can it be that I am of this blood?

Words

spoken by my father's brother--

I will never claim them,

but am I stained?

Words

that tear my insides

beyond recognition,

beyond belief:

"They come here,"

he says,

"And think they can change everything."

(But I hear truth in change.

Growth.

Survival--why can't he see?)

Fear festers in his words:

"They should get the hell out, go back."

To where? 

To war?  Death?

To places where ten-year-olds

carry weapons, where girls

gather firewood while men wait in ambush,

where brothers kill 

their own brothers?  Uncle--

you can't even begin to imagine the 

real truth.  Can't you see?

We are their brothers and sisters.  We.

What would you do

if it was you who had to leave

everything you knew,

if your entire world 

fell to pieces

and you were forced

to start again

alone

in a place where no one

knew your name

or spoke your language

or understood

or cared?

What would you be forced to become?

What would you 

be forced to give away?  

Uncle--

fear and hate kill, maim, blind,

rape and pillage,

beat truth bloody

but LOVE--

Love heals... love allows for choice.

And I choose to be unafraid.

I choose to fight for change, I choose

equality.  I choose to protect the rights of those

who have not yet been allowed to learn how,

in this place they now call "home."

I choose to educate.  I choose to

be educated.

I choose to love.

I choose to expand my horizons.  I choose

to aid, and

I choose to respect the voice

of a Somali family

over the hateful voice within my own.

See, uncle?

I choose.

And I will never choose

to be like you.

Ode to a Fart

This is an ode to the "sweetest" of deeds,

A bodily function so awesome, it needs

A tremendous tribute, which I will here impart:

That glorious, uproarious thing called a fart.

Too many times, I'd be sitting in class

When, wouldn't you know it, a big ball of gas

Would come rumbling out from the depths of my tummy.

All but the teacher would think it was funny.

The mind-blowing names for this feat, so diverse,

Nearly rob me of skill to do justice in verse:

Air biscuit, breezer, beef, and one-cheek-sneak;

Room-clearer, honker, trouser trumpet, and squeak;

Ass-rumbler, cheek-flapper, letting it rip;

Pant-ripper, poot, toot, butt mutt, and air tulip.

Heiny burp, back draft, and buttock bassoon;

Bottom blast, rip ass, and a little boom-boom;

Dutch oven, funky roller, and Smelly McSniffed;

Rumble-fluff, wet one, butt pancake, and 'pfffffft.'

And just when you thought all the names were too small:

'I stepped on a fart snake.'  It just says it all.

But the Grand Prize of Fart Names, it goes to my mom,

Who'd redden with shyness when she'd drop a bomb

Of wet stinky inky, and--no, I'm not goofing--

She'd blush, and then giggle and say, "Oops, I'm FLOOFING."

And thus, I say, no matter which way you spin it,

The world is the richer with flatulence in it.

So the next time you feel one a-brewin', take pride,

Stand with feet firmly planted, and cheeks open wide.

Windy Dreams

The wind was blowing
My car had been towed
Or stolen
Whatever
It was missing

In my dream I was eating alone
In a Mexican restaurant
The waitress asked me what I wanted
When I asked for plain enchiladas
She said they had tomato and cheese

I said "OK"
She brought these little sliced zucchini
Warm and cooked
With melted cheese
It wasn’t until after eating them all, that I discovered the tortilla

Just like that
It blew in and blew out
Leaving behind
Traces

Just traces
Of life
Space
Dust
And tap shoes

They were the kind
That were shiny
with the pink ribbons
Every girl's second grade dream
Clinking down the hall

To dance class
With hopes that
She would be noticed
Complimented
On style and form

Where they came from can only be guessed at
They wanted to belong
To that one
The one with the blonde pigtails
And slightly awkward gait

Pick me
And just like that
They, and she
Vanished

With the wind

Passing Wind

...starting a community poem, feel free to add on...like the game of telephone, come on...you know you want to! All the cool kids are doing it...(Maybe I have been working with kids WAAAAY too long...)


You knew it was coming.
How could you not?
With a theme like that,
What else would be hot?

Passing wind, farting, whatever you call it
Will always be friendly
Hilarious and comical
No matter how many times you do it

it might have been...

remember that day?

your eyes were 

red it might 

have been 

salt spray 

it might 

have been

the wind  

I might 

have believed

that

ocean

so far away

but so damn close

a lifetime 

to get there

a leap

a moment to

leave

 

we could have jumped right then

I met you

on a bus

I wanted 

to leave

my scars behind

you wanted

to follow

you said

you'd follow me

anywhere

we made plans

west

cliffs

ocean

sunshine

freedom

glory

death?

a story

they would 

remember us

welcome to the end

you said

you'd follow me

anywhere...

anywhere

your eyes were 

wet it might

have been 

the wind it might

have been

love

remember that day?

we stood

my hand in 

yours in 

mine

we stood

oh

we stood forever

we could have 

jumped

we could have jumped right then

we could have...

we didn't

welcome to the beginning

Today Is For Burying Teeth

Today is for burying teeth

One
Outside my childhood library
First kiss
Seventh grade
Skidding nerves
Thirteen years
Her hair
Beautiful blonde
Eyes green
Like freshly cut grass
Her mother
Waiting
The moon
Stage light
Set on us
Tooth buried
Next to the front door

Two
Thanksgiving night
2003
Painful transition
From
World-class flake
To
Other-world dreamer
Her
Driving mom’s SUV
Me
Crawling on my knees
She
Skips on pins and needles
Resembling
A wrecking ball
I am ruined
My tooth
Buried next to the parking lot

Three
Twenty years waiting
Seemed liked forty
You
Perfect piece
We
Fit together
Before
Worry
After
Relief
We never did
Wash his sheets
This one
Buried under the window

Four
Can still feel
Crisp breeze
Yawning sun
You
Gaze at stars
I
Spout philosophy
We
Never had a chance
I’m ok with that
Hope you are too
Perhaps
Best night of my life
Strangers held hands
Acquaintances kissed
Fools
Building futures
With no roots
The final tooth
Secreted in rocks
Hoping
To be carried to the sea
Praying
To be forgotten

I covered them
With the dirt
You gave me
Composed of
Miracles
And
Wishes
May my teeth
Be comforted
By that blanket
May my empty sockets
Now be home
To something new

Today
Is for burying teeth

all the boys of myth (a love poem)

yesterday i spun a tale
cynical about love
clutching each thin strand
saying i'd never lead you out again

that was a lie

time still slows
at the command of your smile

sometimes i dream running
a pace set to a song
you are strumming across
the strings of my soul
an old song made new
in a rush of blood
from my shuddering heart

it breaks free from encircling bark

just let my warm hand
brush across your rough stony cheek
and make it flesh again

fingers graze across lips
brow rests on brow
grey blue lost in blue

boy
drop your bow
and kiss me

no one
(not even you)
craves solitude.

Little Bobby

With the success of his Sicilian defense

Trickling down to a late fourth quarter lead

Bobby the Brat turns on the full-court press

While Shy Sam can only muster a whimper

And yet

Sam swallows the lump in his throat

Wipes the sweat from his brow

His shaking hand moves his own queen

To destabilize Bobby the Bastard’s foundation

The audacity

Puts Bobby the Bellicose on edge

Foaming like a feral beast

Anger steams from his head

Veins throb over forehead and through eyeballs

Bobby the Bold bobs his rook into place

To attack Sam’s king

However

The usual cold, calculating child

Has left his flank wide open

Sam senses the shift

Can taste the temporary opportunity

With nimble digits he dismantles Bobby the Brash’s rook

Rancor emerges from the other side of the table

The crowd

Once dispersed and horrified but still watching

Like they could see the oncoming slaughter

But now

Sacrosanct Sally circles around

Recalling how Bobby the Blasphemer mocked Christ

In reading class last week

She is silently praying for retribution from her savior

And Tater Tot Todd

Cannot help but let loose a tentative yip!

Recollecting stolen lunch money on tater tot Thursdays

In fact, the crowd has silently developed a life of its own

Even parents cross fingers

Hoping for the dethroning of Bobby the Bully

And sure enough

After the mustering of his pawns

And the skilled control of his queen

Shy Sam is able to trap Bobby the Belligerent’s king

And claim a comeback kid victory

Infused with the enthusiasm from the crowd

Sam is swept off his feet

They chant

Sam!

Sam!

Wham!

Bam!

Thank you Sam!

What a nice ending to the story huh?

Sam forever is enshrined as the one

Who took down Bobby the Booger

We all lived vicariously through his young heart

His sweaty hands

And what of Bobby?

Bobby will grow up to be a mass murderer

A loner who picks people out from crowds

Because they look like Shy Sam

Like Sacrosanct Sally and Tater Tot Todd

Because they look like you and me

So

Still happy Sam won?

Soliloquy of an Irate Second-Grade Chess Champion

"See here, fucker.

In my other life, I was 

the Kryptonic fear in 

Superman's eyes.  I was 

Optimus Prime's worst nightmare.  I could

crush you with the sheer

iron-clad

bladder-clenchin'

bed-wettin'

balls-poppin' grip of my

MIND.

You don't wanna move your rook there.

Trust.

You really wanna test the wrath of this

Mighty Morphin' Power Ranger?

I got skillz, buttbrain.

I will eat your soul

for breakfast, lunch

and dinner.

Don't think I won't.

Will TOO.

Look how many of your li'l 

pathetic, wasted peons I killded

with my bare hands.

Don't you FUCKING laugh at me.

I will so bust out my can of 

second-grade Ninja Turtle whoop-ass 

on your skinny li'l

weasel face.  And I'll tell Miz Rose

you fell outta your chair

and my King just happened to be sittin'

on the floor 

where your ass-crack landed.

Who's she gonna believe?

The li'l weasel boy who sucks at chess?

I don't THINK so.

Your move, hot shit.  Wait--no!

No way, no way in poopy HELL you just 

moved your doo-doo headed bishop

to my knight

you sonuvabitch!

That's IT!  You were warned,

stupid clowny weasel boy.

So now...

I'm gonna tell on your jerky ass 

so fast

you won't know what hit you."

For Those Who Still Imagine

Give me Don Quixote
Hallowed romantic saint

Give me Godzilla
Before I even knew of pollution

Give me Mutant League Football
All exploding bodies and blood stains

Give me Grim Fandango
Skeletons and Cigarettes

Give me Calvin
The comic-strip character
Not the religious figure

Give me Holden Caulfield
And everyone else that knows
All adults are crummy

Give me Ren and Stimpy
Give me Count Chocula
Give me Ghost Rider

Give me Toejam and Earl
Give me Boba Fett
Give me Jack Skellington
Give me R. L. Stine
Give me

Bilbo fucking Baggins

This is for those that can still remember
This is for those that can still imagine
They have not got us yet

The Ballad of Lego Man: A Forbidden Love

PART I.

He saw her and knew.

There were no words, as he spoke not at all,

and she, reduced to gestures of hands and fingers

learned to speak with her eyes.

And they were full of a tenderness

so profound

he would have shed plastic tears

had he possessed the capability for emotional expression.

She saw him in a toy store,

a plastic Atlas holding up the Lego World display,

standing alone and strong 

among the cold and indifferent GI Joes and Barbies

who snickered ruthlessly behind stiff paddle hands

attached to bendable limbs.

The feel of her warm hand

in his plastic appendage

sealed their fate.

PART II.

The security guard's brow

lifted with questions

as the bell above the door jingled with her entrance.

Three months,

the same pattern--not a day

missed.

He yearned to speak to her of his dreams

of a life beyond the toy section,

to take her dancing,

to tell her he thought her

beautiful.

She so desired to show him

a world full of movement,

of warmth,

of sunlight after a

world lived under fluorescent bulbs.

And among the overflowing, colorful 

flower-beds of merchandise,

Their love grew.

Until--

That fateful day.

A flurry of hands grasped her arms,

pulled her screaming from his embrace,

Judgmental voices read her rights

as he looked on in horror.

Weeping, she was escorted from his world,

handcuffed and disgraced.

Had anyone looked back, they would have seen

a plastic hand outstretched,

and anguish etched in Lego eyes.

PART III.

She covered her eyes, shutting out

the searing white walls,

the padded corners, blinding lights,

the barren expanse of the room

that echoed the barren void of her heart.

Her mind drifted

to loving black painted eyes,

the solid reassurance of his breast,

the sheltered cage of his extended limbs

and the love she had known there.

A love so pure

it transcended flesh and plastic.

A sudden crash--

Alarms shattered the heavy silence,

drowning out the visceral screams of terror

muffled by the heavy padded door.

She sprang to her bare feet,

as the door blew off its hinges

and he shuffled stiffly in

with arms outstretched.

He lifted her.  And was lifted.

Something close to a heartbeat

thudding in his hollow plastic torso

as everything he'd ever desired or felt

came rushing back

in an instant.

The screams had died away.

The survivors, doctors, nurses, orderlies,

stood slack-jawed in wonder

as he emerged from the hospital room prison 

cradling his beloved.

His eyes spoke volumes--

were we able to understand,

we would have heard:

"Lego Men love, too."

 

 

More pictures, from the Internets this time...

Hoping that something will inspire someone; these are not from my personal collection of photos but from a generic Google image search. I'm having fun with this, you should to. Links to sources below.

Insecurity
Robot Love
Bird Love
Angry Chess

I promised more pictures, so I deliver

Last week I promised more pictures to inspire, so this week I deliver. Feel free to use the pics from last week if you haven't gotten around to it yet, but there are more with this post if those didn't catch your fancy. Enjoy, inspire, write, create, poem yourself. (Yes, I just made poem a verb.)

the urban animal runs free

the urban animal runs free.

through gutters, alleys, and timbering trees.

she sits atop shopping carts

waiting

and then dashes for

dropped crumbs

that we don’t know

we’ve lost.

up ahead of the creek.

a chipmunk.

a small thin frame

lined with slick brown fur

a white stripe along the spine.

but now, a spine pressed down

by my bike tire.

down by the river.

a fierce white bald eagle.

smoldering wing span.

her gust thrashes against my face.

i look down to the banks of the river

only wicked wires and waste.

there is no place to make a home.

down in the garden.

a worm.

small but gracefully erect.

digging up the soil

i pull out bricks and leaves

while she looks up at me

with a quiet plea.

a home now gone.

thrown in a plastic bag by the garbage can.

over in the bushes.

a mole.

rugged brown hair with a slight wobble.

she darts past my crouched knees.

i tremble.

at home that i am now removing.

the untimely death

the absence of a home

the removal of your resting place

this is the real cage.

no locked doors. no feeding schedules.

it is a cage i have made.

even if the urban animal runs free.

ABC Poem: A Giraffe, an Elephant, and a Hippo

A giraffe went out one day
Before the skies got gray
Could not see the children
Drive their bikes away
Elephant wanted to be Giraffe's
Friend
Giraffe said to Elephant
Hippo is more like you anyway; Elephant replied:
I don't like Hippo; I want you to stay
Just then Hippo approached Elephant
Kindly, will you tell me why dear Elephant
Love yourself and love me too
Much I see myself in you
Never will I mope about
Other creatures look so stout
Privately, we dance and sing
Quietly, remarks about our weight do sting
Repulsed by other skinny folks, we pachyderms
Stoutly boast
Try being fat and leathery for a day
Usually we are quite gay
Very quickly Elephant realized his mistake
Wondered politely over Hippo's way
Xenophobia: it was in fact his flaw
You are truly beautiful; so am I
Zoos around the world will never be the same

Author's note: An ABC poem is one in which each line of the poem begins with the next chronological letter in the alphabet. Try it. It's much harder than it looks! Taking risks here, people.

The giraffe with poor self-esteem: A Limerick, of sorts

There once was a giraffe named Jack
Who had to hide is desires out back
He went far away
And did not come to play
Until he was painted black

My Feeble Attempt at Cinquain

Demolition
Starting over
Must rebuild soon
Heart-breaking, desperate, lonely, lifeless
Torn

Demolition: A Haiku

This roof stands proud
Its life beaten by strong winds
Only one choice left

My Turn

They tell me I am a child
That I can't do anything
Well, what do they know?

I stand in front of the giraffe
Sucker in hand--strawberry--my favorite flavor
Hoping to reach as tall
As the animal before me

What do they know?
I learn-ed from Mrs. Peabody at school that giraffes eat leaves
And their height works for them
That gots to count for something

Can I? I can!
Be a zookeeper--a vet?
A poet
A artist--Mrs. P. always says my drawings rock her world --
Teacher
Doctor
Fireman
When I grow up
When I grow up
When I grow up
I hate those words

I can also be a mommy too.
Can I save lives?

This scarf is scratchy.
So is this hood.
Why did sissy make me wear this jacket?

They say "Hush Child."
They say "Go Play."
But it's not about "Hushing" and "Playing"

They know that.
But what they don't know
Is that I know too.

This is the one where I'm supposed to pick a picture, HUH?

You all terribly awesome poets voted and it was decided. I am supposed to pick a picture to inspire you to create great (or terrible) things. That's a very heavy responsibility, but I think I'm up for it. We'll start slow. Here's the first four. I'll post more in a week. Start with one, or combine all for more inspiration. And of course, I don't have to be the only one posting photos. If anyone else has any good ones, feel free to post and write. Or if you have any suggestions, feel free to do that too in the comments.








Lafayette, Louisiana post Hurricane Rita







Demolition at its very core (or shall I say, CORPS, haha)
Lafayette, LA October 2006




Giraffe at the Como Zoo, St. Paul, MN
Fall 2008







I wonder....
Girl at Zoo with sucker
Fall 2008

Vampire Sleep

Your appearance was the kiss of death.

But I digress--

To fully comprehend, we must flash

backward

to a lonely room, a twilight ago

Dark

Quiet at first listen

Motionless on the bed

stiff arms of stone

heavy, folded across a ribcage

that rises and falls because it must

The quiet melts away 

replaced by the muffled sirens in the night

stirred up by the moonlit covens of

sunless revelers 

Replaced by shrieks and moans

of an faux-orgasmic former virgin a floor below

willingly ravaged by the eighteen-year-old vampire-- 

A thousand former virgins won't slake his thirst

Replaced by the sound of time

Torturous

eternal

time measured in eons

Left alone with thoughts

that sink into the mind like

elongated canines in the jugular

And then--the sun--

At last, sleep...

 

Snapshot of Love #1

We sat in silence
Chewing spinach like meditation
Hair like sunset
Eyes like fire
Freckles like landmines
Though truth be told
My salad had me just as interested


Then
From the corner of my ear
The sound
Buzzing toward us
A yellow jacket decided to make its home
On the edge of my tray
Of all places
I nudge with my fork
I coax away with my eyes
To no avail
It climbs ever closer
The girl and I
We make eye contact
She sees it too
With confident hands
A paper napkin in the right
A knife in the left
She gently guides it into a brown envelope
Will she crush it?
My worried heart taps out Morse code
But no!
She arises from her seat
She smiles
She exits the cafeteria
I am only able to watch her glide away
Walking as gracefully
As the young Jesus on water
To set the hornet free outside
Bearing witness to the birth of a Bodhisattva

Vampire Energy

When we were kids

They

Worked tirelessly

To

Ensure we would

Rinse dishes

Wash windows

Make beds

Clean clothes

Now?

We pat ourselves

On our backs

Long past

Days of kitchen counters

Filthy

Swarming

Fruit flies

Beer bottles

Leftover from

Parties three weeks ago

Look Ma

Look Dad

We can

Play adult!

We can

Be grown-ups too!

While I relax before bed

You

Must think

It is art class

2^nd grade

You keep all the lights on

The house glows

At all angles

As if it would

Look like a firefly

From space

When you leave

I am not

Collecting your dishes

Or

Emptying your garbage

No

But

I am

Flicking switches

Cursing loudly

I am

Not your babysitter

Nor your parent

Not a caregiver

Grow up

Clean up after yourself

Quit wasting our damn energy