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Undercooked pancakes,
misspelled cards, weeds for flowers.
Love makes them perfect.
All around it, the
town is dead. Pity the poor
taken investors.
A romantic name
for a seagull poop splashed walk
among spray and rocks.
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.
not sure what’s so fun
about a day when we’re all
afraid we’ll get punk’d
Just over five months
This one four hundred fifty
Art or wasted time?
‘Beware!’ Caesar was
told. Like teens in horror films
he didn’t listen.
Like the extra hour
when we fall ahead, this one
day a trick in time.
Drove to the city
to shop eat sushi buy fun
things that make us smile.
Through the rainforest.
Lunch at Rhythms Rainbow Beach,
then Carambola.
Lazy day, lazy
night. Dinner at seven with
turkey and plantains.
Green Cay Marina
walk. J gets stung, M watches
A Christmas Story.
Nut brown ale. Oatmeal
stout. Bayside, we eat gumbo,
salads, tan through lunch.
Cheeseburger joint with
singer grateful for applause.
Relaxed crowd, staff slow.
Day in Christiansted.
Cool arched walkways, courtyards lined
with stores. Few shoppers.
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.
At Schooner Bay, iced
tea - 60 cents at Big Lots -
is nearly three bucks.
Island band’s Christmas
tunes with a reggae twist our
dinner serenade.
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.
separating the
non-essential from the much
needed is painful.
Andy Williams. Bing
Crosby. John Lennon. Jose
Feliciano.
Not enough time for
cookies, cards, decorating.
Which one do I skip?
God rest ye merry
gentlemen? I don’t see them
lifting a finger!
Only if you’re not
the one doing the shopping,
cleaning and baking.
Like catching snowflakes,
this melts quickly from the heat
of a stressful month.
Sad orphans ripped from
the forest stretch out their limbs
pleading, ‘Take *me* home.”
Like flickering tongues
of flame in green…blue…red. Just
plug in and enjoy.
Like speed dating, if
they make a good impression,
they come home with us.
Two tribes - In-laws and
Parents - force you to over-
eat, then watch TV.
Summer’s sizzle leaves
me cold. Instead, winter’s white
embrace warms my heart.
J’s Pied Piper calls.
Mecca of offbeat fashion,
she shops in a daze.
They create out of
nothing whole scenes, entertain
from mere suggestions.
The Windy City
carries aloft a million
dreams on fierce updrafts.
Windows at Lord &
Taylor gleam with holiday
scenes. Small worlds of joy
The heart of the world.
Like fireworks that never fade
explosions of light.
Bryant Park transformed,
craft booths shine with baubles, lit
from within with smiles
Kmart opens at
4am. Outlet mall at
midnight. Who needs sleep?
Post-tryptophan, we
watch Forrest Gump and digest
the day’s memories.
Don’t count calories.
Savor silken pumpkin, tart
cranberries. Taste joy.
Tempting smells - so strong
they nearly satiate the
appetite - drift by.
They’ll watch football. We’ll
cook. Men and women. Hunters
and gatherers still.
Brine, barbecue, deep
fry, roast, smoke? How many ways
can you do one Tom?
I’m the kitchen air
traffic controller, and the
oven my runway.
If you clear out the
fridge for the turkey, then where’s
the other food go?