Such noise outside! - They're still working on the streets in our neighborhood

The real name of our quiet development is Moreland Hills. Few people know this. I prefer, Bartleby, to name it Tall Timbers.

I've been reading in bed since 5 am, nodding on and off. At 2:30 our book club will discuss North Water by Ian McGuire. Superb!

Get thee to some coffee, I tell myself, thinking of going to the Giant for a hot cup.

Nay! I shan't, but I will stare at the photo here.




My friend Helene has moved far far away into an assisting living home in Chester County. Remember me sometime to tell you about a terrible story about Chester County. I worked for a newspaper and they sent me there to interview a fireman who wasn't there.

Great balls of fire!

Had a dream, in the midst of my paragraf, that Mom and Ellen were discussing an erstwhile friend I'll call Jezebel. There's something very wrong with this woman and my mom said she won't call her anymore. Mom was an angel to her and I hope she stays with her resolve. Jezebel called Mom and told her how awful she was.

She should call Trump instead and say the same to him.

***

Time to write today's poem for Facebook.

I did but it disappeared bc of this laptop.

THE WASP AND I

Wasps and I love these early days
of Fall. Sitting on my porch stoop,
breakfast in hand,
the wasp and I are the only ones about.

Ah, more of them on the dark green
hostas on my right. Yellow jackets
actually, feisty little fellows
with a mean sting. Allergic?
Sorry to see you go unless
you have a handy EpiPen.

The omelet is festooned with
mushrooms, big pieces of
spinach, a single brown egg
and Colby Jack cheese from
Vermont.

The yellow jacket dives in.
You must admit he's one
of nature's most gorgeous
creatures.

I shake him off, like
flinging a ping-pong ball
across the net.


THE LINT CATCHER

This morning I washed my favorite slacks
tight-fitting blue ones, with pockets
in the back, threw in some washcloths
and napkins and underwear.

When I opened the lid swarms of
paper greeted me- molasses-colored
Starbucks napkins.

How could I, dammit! How could I?

Into the dryer I threw the contaminated
clothes. Pressed a few buttons and just
took everything out.

The Whirlpool came with the house. 1989.
The brochure is still attached.

Pulling out the lint catcher, I carefully
with moistened finger put the soft lint
into the nearby wastebasket.

When I'm dead and gone, will the lint catcher
still be doing its job for the next owner?


BIKING ON THE PENNYPACK TRAIL

When we got home from our
three and a half mile
bike ride, I bragged to Scott
"I'm not even tired."

"You will be," he said.

Eating my salad outside I noticed
my legs were tired, marathon tired.

I crunched away on my salad: spring mix
pecans, sunflower seeds, cheddar
and chunks of juicy apples,

Remembering the joggers in caps,
a woman walker swinging her arms
in her black t-shirt, a speedy
biker who nodded as he passed by
and me on my blue bike,
chanting "I will not fall,
I will not fall."

GETTING DRUNK AT GODDARD COLLEGE

Read the NY Times review of the 1997 book
"Wasted" by Georgetown Prep student,
Mark Judge. Drunker than a sailor
aboard a whaling ship.

May I share my drunken revelies at
Goddard College, high in the rolling hills
of Vermont?

Apricot Brandy was my favorite. Me and
a guy named Felix tippled by
the fireside at one of the dorms.
My, it was good, but never made
me do things I wouldn't ordinarily
do.

One fall day, I woke up with a
headache. I sprang out of bed
went outdoors and saw a bicycle
lying in the wet grass.

I hopped on and rode around town.
Plainfield. With little rivulets
running from the Winooski River.

Oh, the things I discovered! A cabin
in the woods, filled with old moldy copies
of Life magazine!

Fishermen in waders
throwing out lines
for trout.

Best of all, I was free.
Free from the constraints of home
where my true self was hiding.
Many years later, freedom
like Lady Liberty
awaits me every single day.