This Waning World

If you would only stop long enough to hear

the great whooshing of your life in your ears

You would be graced with the Daliesque sight

of the river birches stretching their legs

knees wobbling like champion Charleston dancers

Geese rowing in lines across the twilight sky

while the coxswain calls to keep them in sync

Upside down seagull wings flapping towards the surface

of the liquid mercury etched with black silhouettes

that could be boats or unknown behemoths of the deep

While across the bay the reflections of three orange lights

flicker like miniature novas in the haze of the humid night

Tiny droplets of storm suspended in mid air

See how the currents ferry away

the last sweet notes of the dying day

If you would only stop and look

you would fall in love with this waning world

Saturday Date Night

I remember sitting on the toilet

fleece covered feet kicking the air

watching you in the mirror

slick tube of color pressed

against your lips

worn flat with the precision

of your careful application

then the snappy sound

of the eyeshadow case closing

and the sweet smell of powder

followed by the danger

of the jagged black wand

you held so close

to your soft blue eyes

that we held our breath together

the tension broken by the clang of bangles

as you reached for your best purse

with the shiny A emblazoned

on the wine colored leather

you called it burgundy

and it sounded like some exotic language

that only fancy ladies knew

how I hoped to earn the right

to say it myself some day

and finally we came to

the crowning moment in reverse

as you slipped on those high heels

with the elegant curve of wood

beneath your slender arches

and the thin strip of nude leather

across your toes and nothing else

so the sole slapped your heels

when you walked out of the room

forever the sound of womanhood to me

and I could not wait

to grow as glamorous as you

Mary Grace

How embarrassed you were

when your grandmother

left the discount grocery store

pushing the metal cart

straight through the parking lot

and onto the sidewalk

You tried to tell her

that she was stealing

but she only cackled

asking if you'd like to

carry the groceries

for the next eight blocks

adding that it's not stealing

if you give it back

How hard you tried

to distance yourself

from her and her muumuu

and her clanging cart

hanging back a few feet

pretending to be interested

in some invisible ants

only to hear her snap at you

to stop lallygagging

You worried what would happen

if someone you knew saw you

complaining that people

might think you were a bum

"Like that guy" you pointed

and she stopped and looked

following your finger

to a shoeless unshaven figure

across a vacant lot

You prayed desperately

for the squeaking wheels to resume

because the silence hurt your ears

nearly as much

as the look she gave you

"But for the grace of God"

you hear her say

mostly to herself

before rustling through

the paper bags in the cart

and producing a slightly

dented orange

How you wished you could

crawl inside the bag

as she leaves your side

marching across the weedy asphalt

to where the shadow is propped

up against a chain link fence

You are terrified

that he will lunge at her

like you are sure he will

(he is a bum after all)

you want to run

but you don't know the way home

you don't know the way

to anywhere

So you stand frozen

watching as the fearless woman

holds out the offering

to the broken man

and you are stunned to witness

that there is no vicious attack

no bark or bite

there is only a smile shared

between two people

And you know you will never

look at an orange the same way again

Midnight in the control tower

Here is what it was like

voices soft as the hum of a fan

on a humid night

far off stars coming close

lining up in a heavenly parade

coffee in a green thermos

or perhaps it was silver

reflecting the radar screens

blinking, always blinking

There you were high above it all

a princess waiting

for the King to take his break

so he could roll the dice

and land on Marvin Gardens

where you strategically built

all of your castle hotels

You did not know then

about the insane hours

or the debilitating stress

and there was not even an inkling

of the terrifying storm

called a Strike

that was to come

All you knew was that you were up

way past your bedtime

wrapped in your favorite sleeping bag

sipping contraband hot chocolate

delighting in the knowledge

that your daddy had the power

to keep the sleeping world safe

with a whisper

To Audrey on her birthday

They say daffodils can flourish

in nearly every kind of dirt

(of which you knew your unfair share)

and I suppose it was the daffodil in you

that captivates us so

the bulb you dug out of the earth

and devoured as a child

to quiet your empty belly

when the Nazis ate

your carrots and your cows

leaving you to die

but you did not

would not

and that daffodil grew within you

infusing you with its life

teaching you to be

delicate yet sturdy

effervescent yet grounded

and that style and substance

can coexist in one form

until like those scrappy happy flowers

you rose up time and again

even after the most desolate winters

to bring joy to weary workers

trapped in the traffic of their lives

who stop at a light long enough

to gaze out the window

and smile at the sight

of something truly transcendent

the bright beauty of you

dancing in a green field

swaying with a breeze named Fred

on a sunny spring afternoon