Talk Over Pancakes

On a Sunday afternoon
My son asks if he will have to go to war
Kids at school said so
Eat your pancakes

My son asks if he will have to go to war
Things ten year-old worry about
Eat your pancakes
I bet those kids in Iraq are scared

Things ten year-olds worry about
Stockpiling food, flashlights, water
I bet those kids in Iraq are scared
Tanner stacks pancakes like sandbags

Stockpiling food, flashlights and water
Will my brothers have to go to war?
Tanner stacks pancakes like sandbags
Do mothers of sons create soldiers?

Will my brothers have to go to war?
Put your plate in the dishwasher
Do mothers of sons create soldiers?
American flags dot the neighborhood

Put your plate in the dishwasher
Do I know anyone who will die in the war, Mom?
American flags dot the neighborhood
We post a NO WAR sign

Do I know anyone who will die in the war, Mom?
Mothers hiding children
We post a NO WAR sign
Kids learn about war between commercials

Mothers hiding children
Boys bend dolls into guns
Kids learn about war between commercials
Pick teams, play army

Boys bend dolls into guns
On a Sunday afternoon
Pick teams, play army
Kids at school said so

Storm

Winter is a billboard
Loneliness, depression, frozen branches
Today, I drove seventeen miles in the snow
just to be alone
An ice storm came
knocked down power lines, put a porch swing
through a church steeple
tore the sign off a ma and pa grocery store
letters on a reader board are knocked loose
“Discount Tires” is now “Dis ires:
The beauty shop with the purple poodle mailbox
closed early because the beautician was killed
by a falling potted plant

Rum

Hiding
in your closet of a room, a house
small cars gurgle past
through wet yellow leaves

Across the hall
girls dance and kick
beneath nests of cotton sheets

Above 4th Street
orange tea kettle
screams
fog licks tall ships

New York
a liquor store runs out of rum
Boston is
black

Stirring drinks with
a green toothbrush
both of us trying
to kick habits

Oktoberfest

Little bed
next to the wall
thick plaster
yellow room
morning
women wearing scarves
beating rugs in the alley
aching from beer
and gymnastics
a blanket of down
I smile
he wants breakfast
potatoes and sausage
buys me a bouquet
the waitress has whiskers
we laugh and say
goodbye
I disappear
into the wall

Men in Socks

I grow herbs
feed the birds
listen to Chopin

I can only find lovers
who wear striped socks
and can’t play Scrabble

I tell them
how wonderful they are
then I cry

Coffee in a dirty mug
tastes better
than this

Jason at 27

My son just came home
from living in Ukraine
and he brought me
laundry

grey boxers,
brown socks
jeans
plaid shirts

When he was a baby
I dressed him in blue
overalls with a choo choo train
across the butt
and took his photo
11 times

Now his clothes
are from Europe
he takes them from
the white basket
and neatly folds

Humidity

I don’t date married men
or envy laughing lovers
walking across red brick

Old women
are a canopy
funny trees with pom poms

Busy people are dust
unaffected by humidity

Love rolled by
or was that a skateboard?

as I ponder the effect
of the weather
on my hair

FTD

Be normal
get a real job
poet
my full moon barks back

thrifty
buy bread from the day-old bakery
Then
a massage
and a cappuccino

An hour later
I receive flowers
happy, smile
pierce my nose
travel to Ireland
ballroom dance

Embroidered

Eyes hot
tears embroidered
into the lids
my mouth
an anthill
always busy
prophesying to red clay

Ears itch
means somebody’s talking
telling secrets
true lies
abortion
fornication
says Sister Rosemary
starts with a short skirt

déjà vu

I like nightshade
although it is poison
that I’ll die if I ingest

Southern Cal
A boy named Michael
long hair and acid

Turquoise blue
string bikini
better than Disneyland

Déjà vu is a smell
Hyacinth and sand

A wooden screen door
still smacks the frame
of that place

Long Beach
love going around
in a traffic circle

Confusion
the smell of blue hyacinth
déjà vu
better than Disneyland