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My door open, but
the rooms are empty, thoughts like
forgotten relics.

You don’t notice the
absence of sound until you
strain to hear something.

She keeps it displayed
to remind herself that once
she didn’t know it

…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.

“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

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.

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

At the interview
J’s hired on the spot, full of
new employee glee.

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?

He doesn’t have to
do anything but show up.
Fame does that for you.

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

Cap, gown, diploma,
degree. A sense of self the
take-away that counts.

Undercooked pancakes,
misspelled cards, weeds for flowers.
Love makes them perfect.

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.

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© Copyright 2008 Gimble
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