One More Time For Evan

                                                   
My son, I'm tired of retrieving bits and pieces of your life in plastic bags.
This one from here, that one from there.
I stare at the smoky, black plastic and wonder what's inside this time.
I wonder where you were in your life, your thoughts, your addictions and indulgences when you were snatched up, only to leave your life in plastic bags again.

What would you be like without addiction, prison and halfway houses?

If you could have a bed, own a car, fall in love, keep a job, would you be happy?  
Could you be?

I retrieved another plastic bag of your belongings today.  
Somewhere, in its dark bowels, wrapped in the clothes you were wearing, are your phone and wallet.
Those two things you asked me to get and keep, are waiting for your next "fresh start". 
The bag now sits on the floor of the laundry room, claiming residential space, waiting for me to untie its plastic knot.

I will, but not today.
,

Nala, You're More Than a Dog

This is a special shout out to my 95 lb. German Shepherd, with a very large personality.

Nala, you're more than a dog.

It's all about you, with
Your lips in a purse.
If you don't get your way
"It's curtains", or worse!

You must win every game!
To walk you is no fun,
'Cause, I want to stroll
But, you want to run!

You're mean to the cat
And rude to my guests.
The Alpha in you, says
You know what's best.

I own the house,
But there is no doubt
When you're in the room,
Who has the clout.

You boss me around,
With a will that I lack.
But if something goes wrong,
You've got my back.

When it's all said and done,
You are the best!
I will not be consoled,
When I lay you to rest!

I love you, girl!

A Double Image

The mirror shows a double image; a woman-child
who's lost the feel,
Staring back into the soul of the image that is real.


Soul and image confront each other.
The answer lies somewhere between.
The question comes, "Where is your heart?"
Quick returned, "It is with me. No woman-child can set it free."

The Meaning of Life

An old man is asked the meaning of life,
he quickly answers, "Toil and strife".

A mother is asked a similiar quest, she says,
for her family, she does her best.

A soldier is asked, what he lives for.
He responds, "To come home from war."

A young woman is asked the meaning for her.
Her answer includes her man, for sure.

A babe is asked, in his mother's arms.
His smile says it all; he's safe and warm.

A Question

How far can you carry me? Till spring?
Surely, you'll carry me in wine times and sweet sun songs.
But, can you till summer?
Will I be a load on the road when the heat beats you down
and around the bend there may or may not be water?
Will you carry me till I'm eighty eight, or is that too late in life?
Will your shoulders be bent and your money spent by autumn?
Then too, how far can I carry you?

A Snowy Day

I drove home without the radio, without speaking.
I resented the sounds of the engine.
I wanted to remember the quiet sounds as I experienced them so I could relate them to you.

It was snowing at the park today.
I stood in cold inches of it; listening.
So peaceful!
No other people there.
No footprints, but Nala's and mine.
Only the sound of the snow, heavy and wet, shifting under my boots.

Nala was running circles around me; chasing her tail and biting at the snowflakes.
I could not hear her muscles move or her feet touch. But in the lovely silence, I could hear great gulps of clown breath leave her body as she jumped and played.

Snow flakes fell on my eyelashes and I wished they would last until I saw you again.

To Evan

I think I'm ready to write some poetry,

but not now.

Right now, I'd rather think about the end of summer and Mexican food,

and a salty margarita on the rocks.

But then, I remember your golden, little boy hair flying in the wind

as you chased soccer balls down the field.



I'm almost ready to write some poetry,

but not yet.

I'd rather see a "chick-flick" with a friend, or take Nala

for a sweaty, quick stepping walk around the park.

But, then I remember how you caught lizards in the back yard

and let them go after a brief, scientific exchange of glances.



I wish I could write some poetry,

but, I'd rather check my email, or pull rangy weeds from the flower bed,

or fold laundry, or do most anything than think about you, wasting your life

and mind away on your addictions.