A CHILD’S GIFTS The things they teach you, every day. How to make pinkie promises. To remember to always have fun, wherever you are. To giggle. To dance without music. To finger paint with your food. That boys are yucky. To jump in rain puddles. To relax on roller coasters. To breathe.
HAIKU Squirrel an exclamation point on the white page of snow.
FRIDAY THE 13TH Winter sky, a buttercup moon, swollen, yellow, overflowing. Orion and the Big Dipper they’re all still here. Where have you been? Hiding condoms in your trunk. The push pull, a song on the radio, content to be restless. In seven minutes the moon was dirty eggshell white: Things change.
ODE TO MY PLUMBER Unplug my drain, baby, unblock my consciousness, free my mind and body, keep me flowing under the earth, through the suburban streets, into the woods and straight out to the sea.