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“Let’s go to the beach!”
One kid, online, shrugs as the
other keeps texting.

“In a typical week, only 6 percent of children ages nine to thirteen play outside on their own.”
from The Option of Urbanism: Investing in a New American Dream by Christopher B. Leinberger

Rumbles of thunder
promise that soon fat raindrops
will bring refreshment.

Expected to know
all the dishes, servers eat
the entire menu.

Panera’s didn’t
call, nor Applebee’s. Rejec-
tion’s hard at sixteen.

She said she felt like
a fairy princess, draped in
blue with beaded swirls.

Has it really been
a month since I told you all
about my day, dear?

Formally over
twelve years of learning to look
good on this one night.

such a sweet ride they
didn’t want to leave so they
did Wendy’s drive-thru

She can’t stand her. He’s
her ex, so don’t include them.
Can’t we go alone?

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.

She curls around the
baby like a spiral shell
protecting its snail.

Like cows with their cud
we would chew constantly, and
then we’d all swallow.

Shopped a membership
warehouse store today. Got six
years’ worth of ketchup.

Vegans, stay away,
lest your firm resolve melt from
tender smoked brisket.

Muddy quads, walls bare
of ivy still inspire awe.
Can we get in?

Ph.D.s waitress
here, M.A.s babysit, ’cause
no one wants to leave.

Wan, pale, red-eyed, she’s
the poster wife of Wynette’s
song, “Stand By Your Man.”

It’s fun to see what
it’s like and then go back to
being nobody.

In the skyscraper
canyons, light outlines moving
shapes sipping Starbucks.

Like a jeweler
displaying gems on velvet
wealth gleams beyond reach

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© Copyright 2008 Gimble
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