Saturday, February 24, 2018

Oh no! More Poems - Washing my Face - Happy Valentine's Day to the Garbage Cans - What a Breakfast


How fine it feels to use
my fingers to wash my face
I close my eyes and feel
my cheekbones, forehead
lips and neck, all the
while, outside my
bathroom window, a
red-headed woodpecker
plummets, searching for
his toast and jam.


If I've forgotten to thank you
let it be now, o squirrel-proof
garbage can I bought at Village
Hardware in Hatboro, maker of
revolutionary hats - doff doff -
feathers and all
for the War of Independence.

The Adams Family, the Myers Family,
the Kiernans, the whole lot of us
getting rid of our weekly detritus
just as I'm sure you know by now
the heavens shirk off theirs by
sinking it down black holes.

Live in the moment, shall we?
Wayne Dyer has passed, so has
Louise Hay, let's drink a
cuppa tenderness, with both
hands and wake up refreshed
in the morning.


Back to the old peripatetic
breakfasts when the sun shone
its glory over our little
patch of paradise

I walked along my front yard
staring at Helene's beautiful
china, breakable, composing a
quick short story where plates
are thrown by the disgruntled couple

Last night I ate a frozen dinner
Marie Callender's meatballs and
sausage in marinara

While watching 31 Days Leading Up
to the Oscar. So that's what
BUTTERFIELD 8 is about! The face,
the curled up body of Elizabeth
Taylor is something our generation
will never forget.

Max? I muse to my grandson, four.
Liz Taylor? No, it's not a backhoe
or front-end loader.

Hold on while I pour another cup of tea.
Tangerine and orange from the one and only
storyteller Marf! Goes down smooth as
honey or mashed bananas for babies.


I submitted something on LUST to Pure Slush. Matt wrote me back. Apparently I only submitted half of it.

Where's the other half? Lemme go out back and see if it's blowing across the back lawn.

Just got anudder cup of Marf's Tangerine Tea even tho there's no caffeine in it. I needed a change.

Dig that color! Hawaiian Punch Red.

I called Helene to tell her I was emailing her the pic of her old china, gorgeous, n'est-ce-pas?

Scott's dad is living at home in Northeast Phila with his mom, but he's not doing well. Dementia.

Looked up caregivers for Alzheimer's. There's a daytime group I may go to. Why? For my volunteer job at an adult daycare facility.

Par example, one woman I'll call Mrs. Chekhov. She has no frigging mind, tho she looks around with interest and they bring her to the potty.

She lives at home with her daughter. How does her daughter deal with it?

Did I tell you this horrible thing that happened? I lost half the stuff for our Compass magazine. Must be a virus.

Look, I'm not panickickcing.

Gotta finish a new short story IF it's still there.

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