On a beautiful day like today, Stay outside! - Poem: The Lesser Me

At our Coffeeshop Writer's Group yesterday, Debra Dix read the next chapter in her "tween-age" sci-fi fantasy novel. She's completed the entire book but is seeking feedback. Donna Krause and I certainly enjoyed it.

Donna wrote one of her excellent poems, this time about depression. Her boyfriend Denny said you'll make everyone depressed.

This was not the case at all!

I brought a poem "The Lesser Me" and the first chapter of a memoir I'm working on about my Kidney Transplant.

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Let's go early, I said to Scott.

 Lorimer Park in Abington Township. A six-mile bike ride along Rails to Trails. I love the sensation of speed. I could feel sweat from my head falling onto my face. I didn't sweat when I was on lithium, so I enjoy it.

The breeze was cooling off my face, neck and underarms. I wear sunscreen, as you're sposed to when you've had a transplant.

Scott strapped the bikes securely on the back of his car.

*

Then we went to the Giant to buy a picnic lunch.

We were going to hike the Pennypack and then eat in the picnic grove.

Do a Rorschach. What dyou see?

Was trying to shoot a bird basking in the sun but I missed. Here's the bad pic of the bird.

He's there somewhere, you just can't see him.

And me, in my eyeglasses, can't look properly thru the camera lens. Or see well at all! You'll read about it in my poem below.

 Don't fall off the balance beam, Ruthie.

 Tony's Tree. His brother Michael Garofola does a nice job taking c/o it.

 Two paths diverged.

To the Left I said and was actually proven right!

We always stop at the Pond. We heard Bullfrogs croaking off to the right.

 Unnamed tree.

 Whom she would meet but the Director himself! David Robertson. He shook hands with Scott, while admiring each other's shirts. From the recent Creek Cleanup.

I bought a $50 gift card to Giant which helps support The Trust.

Scott and I bought our picnic lunch at the Giant this morning. LaTanya, in the Prepared Food Dept, helped us. She's quite new.

 Apart from the flavorless egg salad, everything else was delicious. Baked beans mesquite (smoky flavor), Cole Slaw with broccoli, sunflower seeds and raisins and potato salad with slightly undercooked taters.

I like to walk after we eat so we checked out the Bird Blind. Say hello to the Turkey.

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Yesterday, Saturday, I was sitting outside on the steps, when two teenagers zoomed down the street - one on a skateboard, the other en bike. They stopped fairly close to my house.

I asked the most important Q of the day.

Answer? Yes, we do cut lawns.

And they did. For $25 they did an excellent job. When I got home from Mom's that nite, I couldn't tell if they'd been here or not b/c there were no grass clumps lying around. It wasn't till the morning that I looked outside and saw..... they did a perfect job!

*

This morning I entered my 250-wor-or-less essay into online journal River Teeth and in only three hours they rejected it already. Theme is to write about a Beautiful Thing.

I really like my entry, but there are a few meanings of the word beautiful. My entry. My readers have previously read about this on these pages.

Thwack! From the corner of my eye, I saw the tiny brown wren hit my living room window. I ran to the door to see what had happened to the hapless fellow. He was on the sidewalk, on his back, tiny legs up in the air, when other small birds gathered around as if to comfort him in his death throes. I moved away and wrung my hands. When next I looked, all of them, to a bird, had flown away.

 

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Here's the poem I wrote for The Coffeeshop

THE LESSER ME

I inhabit two worlds.

In one, all is a blur

"I’m near-sighted," as I

said proudly as a child

of eight, when blue

eyeglasses enunciated

the leaves of the new

maples in the front yard

and the dark eyes

of my baby sister Lynn.

Alas, the contact lenses

I wear must be removed

for one month. My Frau

Professor spectacles

rest lightly upon my nose.

They have quirks, annoying

at first, but amusing now.

I am walking on the carpet

in the living room when a

small white dog rushes up.

I have no small white dog.

Every room I enter has

curved walls like in

the Fun House. The

Hatboro Post Office

has curved walls. Erich

the pharmacist at the Giant

is ensconced in what seems to be

the Chartres Cathedral.

When driving I can see

the potholes,

the speed limit signs

the cars on my tail

but cannot make out

larger signs far away.

Was the optician drunk

when she measured me?

Last night, going home

in the dark from Mom’s,

slowly, down the back roads,

so as not to collide with

the deer, I held my glasses for

a moment in my hand, as I

stared straight ahead, bumping

along the naked road,

Blind.