Pocketful of stones


I don’t know about you
but I’m so tired
of being vigilant.

I’ve been watchful,
on the lookout
at school
at work
at home
for decades
{four, at least}
my nervous system
at red

Not orange
or amber
but red
like blood
and roses.

This does not strike me
as a good place
to live
a good life.

My mind needs
to move to

My mind needs
to go surfing.

My mind needs
a bonsai tree
a kitten
a pocketful of
small round stones
picked while on vacation.

Turquoise Joy


They were twins. Small blonde girls in matching pink
bikinis. The only way to tell them
apart was that one wore purple goggles.
They dove and the water exploded with
splashes and giggles and the turquoise joy
of seven year old girls on vacation.

They have their entire lives ahead of them.
That’s what I thought to myself. Their whole lives.

So do I.

Messages from an Airport Hotel


We spent a night at an airport hotel.
Souls are always in transit at airports
so it’s not a very restful night’s sleep.

But it was paid for so we stayed there and
the room we received overlooked the pool.

The universe sent us that poolside room.

I pulled out the swimsuit that had stayed in
my suitcase for two weeks of vacation.
All that unfulfilled swimming potential.

I did not worry about how I looked.
I thought only about how I felt
in the warm water
kissed by the sun’s rays
happy like a seven year old.