Friday, May 29, 2015

the optimist living in a quarter world

he probably experiences a quarter life in one plane, neutral to happy
from (x = 1, y = 0 to  x = 0, y =1)
with a grin on every challenge even while collapsing on his feet,
the endless demands, solving problems which should not be his
but end up in his capable lap.
my experience falls within a sphere where nothing
lies within two dimensions, each point a different shade
and intensity, often a vivid  volume showing up in multiple locations
the emotional world is not limited by optimism
it may not be simple, it may elicit a groan but
I did not choose this, it just
is.

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Accomplishments and Good-byes



She's always been pretty in pink.
And now she's not only pretty, but accomplished,
strong, poised and moving forward on her 
self determined path,
No surprise that when she saw me,
she exclaimed how small I am, it is only
that she has become so big.
Look at her in pink, they call it crimson
here and everyone knows what it means.
She's on top of the world and she knows it.




and yet, when all the gowns have been returned,
the microphones and sound systems dissembled.
when the cameras are put away and the large families
have dispersed, there is an emptiness that reminds
us that with moving on is also leaving behind.
I wore that pink robe, and now she.
this stage is over, the tables are being folded and loaded into 
trucks, I will leave this city with no plans 
to come back, no more Ph.D's, no more
crimson robes, 
I'll pack my bags tomorrow 
when I come back Sunday, she won't 
even be here anymore.
Cambridge will be lonelier for it.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

he's happier with his ex-wife

she hadn't seen him smile so much in a long time,
far from home, a little alcohol, a good meal.
admit it, they're better together with double Ph.D.'s
and a couple shared kids.
they have both moved on, but she's glad to see
him happy and he, well, no one really knows,
no one has really ever known.
tomorrow there will be more champagne
and wine and good food, and they'll smile at
each other and laugh
over a shared accomplishment.
she will go home and laugh some more,
he will go home and resume his dour attitude
I can't say I blame him.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

"Slumming it in Slummervile": No More


What happened to the Slummerville
I used to know, where no one willingly ventured
except for the cheap rent and proximity.
I'm not recognizing the rows of trendy restaurants
and cafes on the boulevard,
the heat is oppressive, my mind goes blank
as I sign the receipt after two glasses.
where have all the poor people gone in this town,
the working poor don't frequent $100 restaurants.
It's a lovely evening for a walk down the boulevard
but I wonder where the poor have gone
they are no longer here.

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Planning ahead for Stephen's 50th birthday party


I hope they have big enough balls for grownups.
The 40th was fun at the Velodrome.
The 50th should be better, we'll line up for hours
to get in our own bubble and play.
The birthday boy will hog his bubble for hours
only exiting for a beer and some tacos, and
finally to blow out all 50 candles.  
not enough play in the this world between 
ISIS blowing up antiquities in Palmyra and
immigrants drowning in sea, the tragedies
will never end.
It's worth having moments of childish fun,
it's hard enough being a grownup.

Friday, May 22, 2015

Trying to remember that no one notices

I know all about the missed notes and the fumbling fingers,
the high notes that cracked and losing the beat, eventually
finding it.
No else noticed.
I'm in my head judging my performance for rhythm, intonation,
fluidity, color, tone, energy and musicality.
They probably don't notice any particular thing except
that I am playing my heart out
in spite of the missed notes and fumbling fingers.
They could only be touched.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Eggs


I wonder what the pecking order is.
do the hens who lay brown eggs lord it over the 
one who lay in white
satin sheets draped over custom nesting boxes
the larger ones with purple trimming.
I would be so jealous with my worn
flannel sheets and ripped pajama top.
my socks don't match and my car
has peeling paint.
I'd be a hen laying in a satin box, 
receiving a daily massage and a rooster
visiting daily.
I'd croon with pride when my eggs were 
picked up and packed in a purple box 
to match my bed.