Scrapbook
between the leather doors of the
memory book
I house your life paste you
in with your famous bubble quotes
those light bulbs flashing over your head
illuminating years of pages
and decorate the rooms
with patterned scissor cuts
around the borders in bold
triangle and square colors
tape in flowing blue and red ribbons
ABC+s and
a curl of hair
the paper on the walls embossed
with floral patterns recalls
the garden where you sipped mint tulips
at your first tea party
Poetry Reading
Monday, April 28, 2008
The Old Dog
when the old bones stop at the
bottom of the stairs
and drop with a whimper and a sigh
resigned that the
soft mattress is beyond hope and suffer
this cold hardwood bed for the night
when the aspirin doesn’t dissolve the
pain anymore
when the joints go their own way
grinding spurs dislocating
when it was only yesterday
you came home
with the leap of youth in your legs
when you could not only run
but fly
Learning How To Drive
in reverse careering down the narrow
twisting roads in the city
lined by cars parked on both sides
at the mighty meters feeding the
ravenous city budget
with bikes locked and hanging their chains
and frames rusted from the daily
corrosion of the weather
and pedestrians on sidewalks dodging
into the street blindly behind bumpers
deaf to the world with their cell phones and iPods
you drive
backwards through red lights
stop signs and yields that we
can’t even see
my seatbelt tight restraining me
you steer around
the oncoming cars trucks and buses
with grace and felicity
while I holler and scream
and can barely watch the
horror unfolding
you smile and
accelerate reassuring me
that we’ll get there in time
and I say I’ve had enough of this ride
but there’s something about speed
hammering against the flow
something about youth and skill
free of the adversary of anxiety
that seduces
that releases me
The Road
the old road’s cracked and rough here
blind potholes out of nowhere
like some sickness
the pavement’s blown
along with my tire
when was this surface last smooth
had to be years ago
when the asphalt was still hot
and steaming
over a bed of fresh gravel
before that it was a track of dirt
but the town had it paved
because of the wild ruts
and loose stone
now after seasons of neglect
it needs repair
and mending
and I bend over exhausted
the two of us the road and I
leaning on my tire
