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Book Marks
I see them on the pages regardless of where they’re from Definitely those from the neighborhood library box Also in the used bookstore there are some Those turning pages are such a pleasant hum On white paper among the black print There are splotches I need not squint Green dots, red dots Brown streaks Banana-shaped
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Babies
It’s a strange feeling when I see a stroller Pacifiers and diapers, screaming babies couldn’t make me colder Some women will shoot themselves Spend everything And inject someone else’s cells I can’t run far enough away I feel no soft and fuzzies even when they’re at play My mother told me not to wait till
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Bicycle
What if everyone biked to work? Maybe knees would no longer hurt The streets would be quiet People could see the flowers dressed in violet Rabbits in front lawns of green They’d look at nature and not just screens They could feel the air: humid, cool, warm, salty Be in the weather, not just hear
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The Library
It had been an easy day Work was smooth in an unusual way Rain clouds were moving in, a little bit scary I walked into the library The security guard just inside the door looked like a zombie A little girl in the children’s corner cried for her mommy I walked to the back where
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Diving
My running shoes on wooden planks Puppy paws trotting Like we’re climbing the ranks For all the water there’s simply not enough tanks Diving boards, wetsuits, tennis balls The water calls From down below – or up high? Depends on where you stand Run and take a plunge Fly momentarily till gravity wins It’s grand
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Disappointment
Most people have nightmares/dreams about being chased, being assaulted, being in plane crashes or natural disasters. Me, I have dreams of letting people down. Putting on the completely transparent/vulnerable hat here: it’s a deep root in my psyche. I’ve attended a few therapy sessions in my life (about 4 years ago). Through some rapid-eye-movement-talk-therapy-complex processing
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Seven Seventeen
It’s 7:17 on 7/17 I’m running down Willow Wood like it’s a dream Beneath the pink crepe myrtles Their branches shed bark The sidewalk and the road are my journal Every step, a spark On 7/17 my jog is a scribble I ponder everyone a little The cool guy from high school 7/17’s his birthday
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Stuck in Neutral
I’ve always wondered why cars sit in the park’s parking lot Idle Just there, backed in, or pulled into a spot As taxpayers, do the drivers feel entitled Some people just sit in their cars and nap Ironically, I’ve seen city workers do the same The location doesn’t seem apt Others smoke various things It’s
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Kathleen
Her name was Kathleen She was well-dressed and competent but mean In my favorite movie Is it my favorite because I’m the girl in her shadow Like the girl in the film I’ve learned you have to stand in the shadow before you can bask in the light Dress clothes aren’t comfortable And heels don’t
writings on life
gremlin fodder 