POEM - Salad Bar, Please

I like

Salad

I heard tale

Of a salad bar

50 feet long

I dreamt of it

My salad

Is not

A traditional

Creation

Toppings mingle

In inappropriate relations

The pineapple

Rests against the egg

On top of the raisins

Dusted with sunflower seeds

Bathed in blue cheese

Crowned with croutons

Set with imitation bacon jewels

The lonely truck stop

With the greasy diner

Was not promising

But the salad bar

It was a beacon

Of gastronomical satisfaction

It even had cottage cheese

And butterscotch pudding

And thin flavorful ranch

To wash over thin red onions

A good salad

Is a good day

To happen upon

An All-You-Can-Eat

Well done and enough said

Honest to goodness

Straight up salad bar

Is to find happiness

Among an ever uncertain world

POEM - Licorice. Black. No Chaser.

He dropped into the chair

Lightly

Smiling at the sun

Shinning in streams

From the old front window

With a long crooked finger

Raised to his thin lips

And a wink of his eye

He has a secret to share

The green crystal dish

With the cut class lid

Is filled with small packages

Shiny purple labels

Wrapped around soft black cubes

He smiles knowingly

As I bite in

Experiencing the treat

For the first time

The sun still filters in

Now falling across my face

I chew deeply

Licorice filling my senses

POEM - The Delicate Approach

The box of explosive

That sat on eggshells

At the back of the room

Made everyone nervous

Anything

Anything at all

Was going to set her off

We didn’t dare

Though we all wanted to

Adopt a look

Even a little

Of disapproval

And it still wasn’t enough

But of course

It was bound to happen

The snarly old bear

Sitting on a bench

Growled at the wrong moment

Startled the flitting hummingbird

There were tears

And one should never make a hummingbird cry

But bear he don’t notice

Or he acts like he don’t

But he’s got a long memory

And the retaliation of pecks

That were doled out

In response to the tears

Went on the list

Of problems he wanted to fix

Just another chore

Whose time had come

I’d like to think there is a solution

That the bird and the beast

Can find some common ground

But bears should not be prodded

And hummingbirds . . .

Well, they don’t stick around

POEM - There was a Cool Breeze this Morning

Taking a break

That’s what the weather did

Decided to leave summer behind

So we did too

Off with the A/C

Open the windows

Feel the crisp air

Rush through the windows

Like life returning

Breathing in

A new point of view

Today is not quite Fall

It is a day for sitting in parks

In the glow of twilight

Eating from a large variety bag of Red Vines

I eat all of the black licorice

Everyone else shares the red

The breeze is gentle

Enough to dispel all flying pests

And this is why people love the South

To sit in the embers of summer

With the hint of cool weather to come

We rejoice in the arrival of Autumn

Have no need to fear the winter

Can accept that a good day

Is enough reason to be happy

POEM - Soup Kitchen

Would I be here

If I was in a similar situation

Down on my luck

Homeless and downtrodden

With no pillow for my head

And no roof for my shelter?

I look for my face

Hiding in the crowd

As I dole out the shredded turkey slurry

Next to the rice in the big section of the plate

In just the right portion

I only get brief glances

Some of the patrons are expected

They play the part

Fit the expected persona

Rough around the edges

Hard lines on their face

Red weary eyes

Humble and grateful

For any kindness

Others are more problematic

Seem out of place

Less beat down

Still have a determined hope

That this is just a temporary set back

Not a way of life

I hope they are right

I hope it is infectious

That it rubs off somehow

On the more resigned of their neighbors

Before I know it my time is up

Amid a shower of “thank you”’s

I weave out through the dining hall

Across the courtyard

To the exit that is just an exit

And a door that locks behind us

Forces us to return to our lives outside

But for some that door is a sentence

That they never want to hear

Because inside it is warm

With food and a roof up above

Where if they get sick the ambulance comes

If they are sleepy there is a bed

Boredom is cured by dominoes

Loneliness by all the other huddled masses

Yearning to be free

But mostly just grateful

That tonight there is something to eat

POEM - Waiting to See

Today she was tired

A little less energetic

As we sat in the waiting room

A heavy question in the air

She stared for a long time

Into the fish tank

Bubbling away in the corner

As I filled out the usual forms

Told the same story

Same as a hundred times before

As the bubbles kept rising uninterrupted

She didn’t even have the energy to care

That the tank was a ruse

An vessel empty of life

All systems doing their work

With nary a fish

To give a purpose

To the machinations each was employed in

When I finished the paperwork

We sat together

In a time apart

Not willing to mention anything

That might be seen as important

Tom and Jerry were on the TV

Acting out the Wizard of Oz

As if they played some part

Helped Dorothy win through

Showed them actually filling the bucket

That killed the Wicked Witch

And I remembered why I hated Tom and Jerry

But she didn’t watch

Resting on my shoulders

Her head settling deep into my arm

Minutes from a nervous sleep

Because it’s a way for a kid to deal

When they are eleven

And afraid they might be minutes away

From some strange person

Sticking a large needle in them

Just for the fun of it

She yawned

Asked for food

Stared at the invisible fish

And then puts on that look she has

That lets you know she’s thinking hard

You know my friend?

She hates the term “surgically removed”

She thinks it’s icky

            I think I will say it all day tomorrow

That’s what I was waiting for

Even in the face of uncertainty

She still sees the weird

In all the possibilities ahead of her

POEM - My September Story

I sat at my desk

With nothing to do

Except answer phones

Apologize

Stare off into the distance

Walk outside now and then

Look up at the flight path over head

And see nothing but sky

The planes were all grounded

The silence noticeably eerie

It was unreal

Pictures of something

That looked staged

All the way over there

Another world apart

From my desk in cubicle land

Somewhere in the Arizona desert

What I latched onto

In the moment of chaos

Was September Thirteenth

That was when Cake was coming

The tickets sitting at home

I’d had them for a month

And it was all I could focus on

When buildings crumble

It’s often the flowers that bloom

From the discordant rumble

That rebuild the path to hope

My hope lay in impossibility

That a band on tour

Could make it into town

When all the planes stopped flying

Luckily the buses still worked

Luckily Cake understood

That we might need them to make it

Even if it was just for a few people

They could make a difference

Maybe help heal something broken

Understood it was no coincidence

That their song Comfort Eagle

Had a Middle Eastern sound

Which meant all the more

As they played intensely that night

Because we weren’t afraid to be there

And we weren’t afraid to sing

Spirits free to soar

Unobstructed

On a clear September night

POEM - Wonton Soup

The gray air sat

Motionless

On the shoulders of everyone

Bustling along

The busy Portland street

Fall tries so hard

To hold you in place

The set up for winter

When the crystal ice

Covers every stationary inch

I thought nothing of winter

My hand grasped tight

As my father led me along

We’d met him for lunch

Found him standing on the street

Awaiting our arrival

Just outside his office

Near the Lloyd District

We sought sustenance

In the Chinese restaurant

Nestled in the bottom corner

Of some old building

Bright and warm and welcoming

The cold, wet outside air

Clung to the windows

But got no further

The steam rose and gasped

While delightful smells circulated

Soon I received soup

Something new

Not the egg drop variety

I had become enamored of

This was thin and savory

With floating noodle triangles

As I bit into the slick noodles

There was a little surprise

A tasty little cube of pork

The sky tried hard to break in

Hurt by how easily we forgot

That just outside the window

A chill wind blew

Indifferent I warmed my belly

Slurping down wonton soup

POEM - The Thing

The year The Thing came home

To live with us and be ours

Life was just better

Because it’s hard to have worries

When the top is down

The wind is in your hair

And the sun is shining just right

And we had our troubles

It was a difficult relationship

The Thing had some baggage

Left over from its previous resident

A bum motor and a crummy generator

But it was a labor of love

Each time I sat there

Twisting a bolt

Or changing a part

In anticipation of our next journey

After I got the new engine in

And four new tires

I was sitting at work

Answering phones at SkyMall

Thinking more about my car

Than any of the voices in my ear

It was more than I could take

I asked Loren if he wanted to go for a ride

We jumped in the car

Fired up the engine

And drove around the parking lot

Then I took it too far

But at the time it was purely practical

I needed to show him

That my car wouldn’t bottom out

No matter what

So we raced off across the dirt lot

That sat inside the work compound

The future site of something

That never came to be

I plowed through a huge indentation

Did a few donuts

And never once hit bottom

I guess I should have known

When Agnes or Gretchen or whatever her name was

Came walking out of the warehouse

I knew she’d snitch

Just to make someone else

As miserable as she looked

Back in the lunch room

We were jovial and happy

The heady rush of adrenaline

Slowly receding

When our supervisor found us

            Were you doing donuts. . .

                        In the parking lot?!?!

Yeah! I said emphatically

            Um . . . Don’t do that.

And he walked off shaking his head

I hadn’t expected such disapproval

It made it even funnier

Loren and I cracked up

When we were sure he was gone

In the end The Thing went away

Based on a foolish assumption

That we needed to be responsible

What we needed was a convertible

Let our problems go

            Fly away in the breeze

                        Whipping through our flowing hair

POEM - Flaming George . . . I mean Gorge

I didn’t go to the cabin

Nearly as much as the cousins

They lived just down the mountain

But I loved it there

Whenever we got to go

To see my grandparents

After they left the SoCal hustle

And adopted the slower pace

And the quite life

Of a place off the beaten path

But we never really change

Wherever we are we are who we are

See, things are funny in my family

Everything is funny

And grandpa loved his words

So he called the place wrong

Whenever grandma was around

Told us we were going to Flaming George

Then grandma would slap him

Roll her eyes and say Oh Don!

And he’d apologize

            I’m sorry; that’s Gorge. Flaming Gorge

Just in time to begin his dam jokes

As we drove down the dam road

To cross the big dam

And see all the dam water

Flowing into the dam river

Wave to the dam people

And have a fun dam time!

The further he stretched it

The less of a pun it was

Until he said one that really was a curse

And my grandma would roll her eyes

For the fourteenth time

Just during the ten minutes it took

To get down to where the rafts launched

And it wouldn’t be long

Until the rafting was done

Or the cliff diving was over

And the exploring was suspended

At least until tomorrow

And we’d all return to the cabin

To be together

Play games and laugh

Hear more puns

            And exaggerate our groans

Because that last one

            Well, it was actually kind of funny

POEM - On the Shore of the Sky

This evening my team didn’t win

Off the TV goes in disgust

But I am greeted with near silence

The rumble of the refrigerator working

Is the only disturbance

I lean my head back on the couch

Rest it against the window

And look up into the sky

There is something different about this view

The tree overhead

Seems like it is the tendrils of an aquatic bog

Thrusting out into the graying blue sky

I can watch and meditate

In the background I hear a couple of kids

Playing nicely in the bedroom

So I return to the scene overhead

As a bird swims by in a flash

Takes refuge in some hollow of the pond

Out of sight

Next to the deserted wasp colony

At rest on the shore of the sky

I must look like I’m drowning

To all of these free swimming creatures

Who can spin through the eddies of the air

Catch the waves of the wind storm

Narrowly avoid crashing into tree and bush

While I am trapped in my tank

Curiously observed

By a crimson cardinal

Or the pointed head blue jay

With its feathers like stained glass

As they float by so at ease

While I foolishly think of my comfort

How much I gain from my civilized life

Arrogantly holding the elements at bay

Unaware of the pity afforded me

As I only watch the ebb and flow

And never wash myself in freeing waters

Nor fly amidst the azure sphere

POEM - Jungle in the Corner

In the corner of the front yard

Of my grandparent’s house

There is a little area

Where the roof line comes down low

And there is a little garden

Where we would always play

The little corner is secluded and peaceful

It’s where the elephant ears grow

Up over the birds of paradise

With their striking plumage

Silent and watching

As I enjoy my jungle life

And I liked to sit in that corner

Under the shade of the giant leaves

Watching the light push through

Change from the bright yellow shine

Becoming a soft green caress

As it filters through the chlorophyll

I watch a crawling snail and hear the echo of lions

POEM - Flock Visits

Another twilight comes

Finds the two companions

Walking up to another door

Of another unlit home

Trying to make their visits

Check on the flock

And support the downtrodden

The older man on the left

Lacks the youthful bounce

Found in the step of the man on the right

But he has the determination

A will that is the deep, still waters

Created from raising a large family

And coming from a humble upbringing

Taught by good parents

A father who showed him the way

To visit the half-hearted

But treat them like they were fully committed

A mother who never stood in the way

When duty called

And others were in need

So the man walks up to the door

A prayer runs through his mind

Of hope that this time will be different

That someone will be home

Will have time to talk

That he will make a difference

Instead of just an effort

All day driving around

Thinking about what he could say

He read a story

About a group of housewives

Who had helped out their neighbors

For over thirty years

            Anonymously

Without even their husbands knowing

He wants to help like that

And that brought the tears

And he was glad no one came by

Interrupted his meditations

He had the moment to himself

As he let his old eyes wash away

When he looked up

He wore new eyes

And his heart had replaced his mind