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Rumbles of thunder
promise that soon fat raindrops
will bring refreshment.
She said she felt like
a fairy princess, draped in
blue with beaded swirls.
Formally over
twelve years of learning to look
good on this one night.
Undercooked pancakes,
misspelled cards, weeds for flowers.
Love makes them perfect.
Deciding who to
take like negotiating
Mideast peace treaty.
In it she was arm
candy, someone that turned heads
unexpectedly.
The play was about
them. His unrequited love
her indifference.
Dog is lagging yet
clear skies pale green leaves urge me
to linger longer.
Where river meets lake
we stand as Toronto gleams
across the waters.
Riverside village
quaint without self-consciousness,
where arts mix with charm.
Just water on rock.
And yet, sheer power compels
visitors to gape.
She curls around the
baby like a spiral shell
protecting its snail.
An unexpected
crocus emerges, smiling
from a brown leaf pile.
Slanting through speckled
panes, turning cobwebs into
faerie gossamer.
Hills like cut paper
black against tissue blue skies.
Through poked holes, stars shine.
Unaware of her
beauty, unselfconsciousness
gives each movement grace.
Geeks transformed into
leading men stop hearts, but then
revert back next day.
From an estate sale -
pendulum clock. Westminster
chimes now count my days.
Tourists whisked to the
top while on tenant floors, one
hears “shhhhhhsss” like secrets.
Like a hick I tilt my
head to see the top and
ponder tossed pennies.
In the skyscraper
canyons, light outlines moving
shapes sipping Starbucks.
“We’re domestic,” a
blonde woman tells her daughter
in line at the gate.
Flushing Meadows Park
once a site of hope. There, a
globe pledged future peace.
a dilemma of
riches in tiny topaz
the art of language
“Read my poem? Please?”
In real life I’d get blank stares.
Here, you’re back for more.
the constant dripping
nature’s tears of joy as she
sees her world reborn
Days grow longer like
smiles that stretch wider as one
greets a long lost friend.
Could Cameron Diaz
maybe have done her hair? That
ponytail so wrong.
Bjork’s swan an urban
red carpet legend. Today
beauty takes no risks.
So hungry but the
dress fits stumble past photogs
smile stop nod pose smile.
Kid in candy shop
I dab on product in search
of my true colors.
Handful of turquoise
begs to be strung with silver
draped around my neck.
Grey army trenchcoat
or lime green sixties jacket
J can pull off both.
Luminous suitor,
the moon dimmed by darkness’s
seductive regard.
greatness revealed in
the sound of splinters, words that
pierce my jealous eyes.
Let delight ripen
into a sweet juicy pear
True joy takes patience.
Bright lipstick fools them
into thinking I’m well. No
“How do you feel?”
Her breath sounds like the
whistle of distant trains bound
for lands beyond dreams.
Snow releases its
grip as small drops melt merge run
in noisy trickles.
Dawn the breath of a
new day paused when night exhales
sunrise dimmed by fog.
He had a dream but
his murder was our nightmare.
It’s time to wake up.
In a misguided
effort I peeled off half my
face and left the hair.
Wind chimes jangle in
the breeze. Nature’s alarm clock
saying, “Go to sleep.”
Through the rainforest.
Lunch at Rhythms Rainbow Beach,
then Carambola.
Soft watercolor
pre-dawn shifts to vividly
rendered intense hues.
Nut brown ale. Oatmeal
stout. Bayside, we eat gumbo,
salads, tan through lunch.
Day in Christiansted.
Cool arched walkways, courtyards lined
with stores. Few shoppers.
West coast of St. Croix
Palm shaded. At night, torches
cast glow on beach tables.
Green flash at Sunset
Grill on Sprat Hall Beach. Then dined
in lush tropic style.
To Fredericksted.
Live music on Rainbow Beach.
Snorkel for beach glass.
Kayak to Green Cay.
Snorkel among reefs. Head back,
sunburned and happy.
Cruzan pineapple
flavored rum makes happy hour
even happier.
We eat cereal
on the porch by the sea, while
island music plays.
Intense turquoise, the
water is a wake-up call
to swim, sun, sail, dream.
An affectation,
but it’s cute, and she is for
given many sins.