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Rubik’s cube of words
adjectives nouns verbs form a
perfect turn of phrase.
Complex moments break
down into vignettes when brief
words define their state.
“You suck!” becomes a
delightful metaphor for
taking it all in.
“I’m telling you but
don’t worry, I’m fine,” she says.
I listen, but do.
A small indulgence:
nibs, inkwells, hand writing in
a click to print world.
Hands on hip, baby,
sketchbook. Diapering, drawing,
birthing creation.
She may have faults but
to me she’s flawless, a me
I wish I could be.
Night pushed back, a dark
blanket kicked aside as the
sun stays wide awake.
Taken by cell phone,
he grins shyly, she glows as
if her prince has come.
Either it’s a loud
HVAC system or
white noise to mask fear.
Bandana over
his sweet smile, ninja to his
anime girlfriend.
He won me over
with his Facebook comment on
her profile picture
My door open, but
the rooms are empty, thoughts like
forgotten relics.
…create. Impatient
that I won’t pay attention
when I’m writing stuff.
Flat mapped names turn in-
to forested hills, roads wind
towards adventure.
Listserv fight breaks out.
Among civil people, the
retorts well-researched.
Directed at me
all day it follows me from
room to room in heat.
And so summer goes
like fishing line cast into
swift moving waters
Rumbles of thunder
promise that soon fat raindrops
will bring refreshment.
Nobody wants to
be there. Even the teachers
sit, watching the clock.
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