Sunday, August 30, 2015

old age

he saw the lanyard amidst the pile of unopened correspondence
and while she was earnestly describing the events of her day
he carefully threaded the ends of the lanyards onto her reading glasses.
she didn't even know she had one on that pile and when he
placed her glasses over her head with such tenderness and acceptance,
she realized and accepted that she was older now
wearing a lanyard like other people was better than searching
continually for a pair of glasses after finding her hearing aid.

Friday, August 28, 2015

The Candidate

he talked way too long
and read his statement from typed notes
he lacks charisma, you can't reach people
looking down at your papers,
they only see the bald head and moving lips.
where are his eyes
he's a good man
with lots of brains
and a heart, I'm sure of it
we shuffled our feet and stifled yawns as
he droned on about climate change
and international politics.
we care, but not right now on a Friday night
after work, we're here to write a check
let's get on with it and grab some dinner.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Erasing yesterday

I'd erase the shooting of the two journalists,
their smiles would still fill the screen, the young
man would still be leaving candy wrappers around the studio.
he's still ask the weatherman what the weather was going to be,
and the response would still be that he didn't know.
I would not have made the error in my analysis, so
I wouldn't have to fix it, and the newsreel on ISIS
destroying another antiquity would not have to unwind.
There was no tumble on Wall Street, no one shed tears.
no one experienced hunger, and everyone had a good
nights sleep, warm or cool enough, holding the hand
of someone they loved.
there were no reports of loneliness or jagged grief.
Today, I could simply hit delete for yesterday,
then carriage return to come back to today.
let's try again today with more love, less hate,
put the guns away, pull out the roses.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Dog Wash

She was wiggling in delirious happiness,
back down, flailing legs facing skyward.
I saw the slick on her back
and smelled the evidence a mile away.
A transfer of "rotten dead thing" to a dog's back.
Disgusting.
She knows that she's in line for a bath
when the front door remains closed and I head inside
without her, she tries to run away
knowing it's useless.
We go at it with shampoo and buckets of water
but the stench remains.
I'd rather spend my time catching up on the
news and having breakfast.
It's a pass off to S.
His turn now.



Tuesday, August 25, 2015

the lonely notebook

every page is filled with the scribbles of poetry
and it's lost in a jumble somewhere, unseen
unheard as it cannot speak,
it's a lonely notebook and me, a desperate
writer hoping to copy some ad-lib poem from yesterday.
a cheat, for sure.
now my heart turns to the lonely notebook, not for my
own selfish reasons but in empathy for what it is to be lonely.
i have been there many times and will be again
when the skin lies close to the bone and my friends
are gone to ashes
then i will seek a lonely notebook to write my good-byes,
she will be waiting for me.

Monday, August 24, 2015

fear and greed index

they feel the money slipping through their fingers
like sand in an hourglass, time is running out.
the rich worry most.
the poor check their food pantries for tomorrow's breakfast
they have nothing to lose and nothing to gain
they are not in this game.
many will pop a pill, the sounds of corks will resound
throughout the nation while the temperature ticks up another
hundredths of a degree.
we are almost to the tipping point but too obsessed
with the feel of money in our hands, too worried
when it slips away like sand in an hourglass.

Sunday, August 23, 2015

saying goodbye for now

it's still hard to say goodbye for now
knowing that for now I won't see the freckles on your lips,
hear your high laughter, or laze away an afternoon in
on the back porch discussing bad literature.
it won't be the same next time,
you may be resting your head on his shoulder,
I would hope for that even as it won't be on mine.
you are growing up and I, well, you call me
little mama as my bones shrink with age.
you will always look up to me even if you forget sometimes,
I will always have to lift my gaze to look into your eyes.