Monday, July 25, 2022

Eating outside for my Sunday Breakfast

WHAT I FOUND WHEN I WAS CLEANING MY DESK


The desk is in the living room, a gift from Aunt Marion,

one of Gramma Lily's 11 siblings, Uncle Max had fled to Panama

and became a fireman, tired of his father's beatings


I mopped my brow with one of those moist towellets

at least 15 years old, and keys good lord, keys stuffed

inside a squeaky drawer that could not be thrown away

or used either


Two fine Nikon cameras 

A chipped custard cup of pale green

Meanwhile I'm commanding Alexa to play

Bon Jovi, Dion and the Belmonts, the

Easter Oratorio and creating a pile

on the carpet for all to be tossed into

the Yellow Plastic Bin though old and dark

rubber bands go into the trash container


I squish an ant in my fingers and refuse to think

of their social intelligence and The Ant Farm we had

as kids and that basin of Mom's where I collected

salamanders from the trickle on the crick

but they all escaped during the night


My voting card, colors rubbed off with time

What's that sound? A recording of the making

of Mustang Sally my sister Ellen is listening to

upstairs.


Ride Sally Ride!

Where's that big yellow moon?

It makes not a sound I can hear

but at Cape Canaveral they wore

earplugs and a few early astronauts

lost their lives, How I mourned for

Christa McAuliffe and poetated about her

and her big cumbersome gloves she burned

up in, like a regular Jeanne d'Arc played by

what's her name who killed herself


The manic depressives among us are tempted

but usually end up saving ourselves, I still

miss Roberto and Jimmy who did himself in

with aspirin, jes trying to make hisself feel better


Goodbye Moon, wrote Margaret Wise Brown

and she was. She was. 


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