Observation tomorrow
poetry stations
but only three
there's this thing called
time
you see
it robs you
of every
good intention
and test prep
wrecks havoc
as it tornados
its way through
schedules
leaving intellectual
debris behind
poor kids grasp
for consistency
poor teachers,
exasperated,
know what works, yet
unable to get
it
all
done
and here I am
arguing with
imposter syndrome
struggling
to create an engaging
lesson
because the kids
are
done
Summer Moon Coffee's
1/4 Moon, hot
those jeans that go with
everything
and always fit
dress them up
dress them down
reliable
chilly air
between season
transitions
Babies,
all cuddly
and squishy
Childhood
no tantrums
no attitude
all fun
Teens
when they
have a good speak
with you day
Adult kids
stopping by
just because
contentment
enough ups
enough downs
to make appreciation
stick
Hey!
Time taps my shoulder
then runs
ready or not,
here I come!
I never liked chasing
people
and time
is worse
people can get
caught
Ha! Ha!
Time laughs
Made ya look!
I stop,
panting
chaos in its wake
as it continues
to barrel ahead
of me
can't
catch
my
breath
It's 8:45 a.m.
7:45 for my body
as if getting rushed through
the weekend door
pushed through it
isn't enough
this time thing
had to happen
today
last night
my body lives in two
time zones
I get to wrestle with
for a week
even though we already
know which
one
wins
hello,
spring
where's the snooze button?
Jumping on the six word bandwagon
Are six words a cop out?
Six words are all I have
It was hard coming back today
Back to life, back to reality
I'll be fine by next week
(Yes, you're welcome for the earworm)
Where you look back
look forward
turn around
or press on?
50/50
right in the middle
red cherry Popsicle
split in half
on a hot summer day
an age proudly proclaimed
by a child
inching closer
to the next birthday
I'm ten and a half!
two quarters,
one for me,
one for you,
when one could
get you a full sized
candy bar
a marching band show
sandwiched
between two time clock
quarters
under Friday night lights
of a high school football game,
drum major
on the fifty yard line
telling the band what to do
a small town in Texas
where Mom pulls over
to let you drive
the rest of the way home
after running errands
because you don't yet have
a license
pit stops for stretching
cramped legs
letting the kids run around
four more hours until
we get to Grandma's
roads don't seem to end
in Texas
a mid-lifer
assuming one lives to 100
contemplating
what-iffing
if-only-ing
I should-ve...
Stop!
you're did what you
knew best to do
Halfway
the sweet-spot
of living
Sunday morning
communing
with pen and notebook
three pages,
one is done
she bounds downstairs
only in the way
a teenage girl
can bound
bending down
loving on the puppy
resting at my feet
like a puppy
switches her brain switches
in an instant
"Okay, hear me out,
just hear me out"
I don't know what's
coming
a feral cat hiss with
a puff of fire breathing
dragon
flames?
she continues her
philosophical and
theological
conversation
asking questions
confirming views
questioning others
"I feel closer to God...
(or is it GOD or god?)
now that I've distanced
myself
I mean,
how can someone commit
to something so
important and
life changing when
they're so young?
this is a big thing,
more important than
college
or
marriage
and we have to make this kind
of decision
when we're
young?
She steps back,
surprised I didn't
jump in
"I'm cooking!
I'M COOKING!"
Yes, yes you are
keep at it, feisty one
keep at it
My car?
a roomier version of a
purse
or backpack
Front seat holds
a stack of new books
I've got first dibs,
but only if I can't find kids
who want
to read them first
Folded windshield sunshades
(needed all year
in Texas)
stuffed between said seat
and console
where there's a stack
of empty gift cards
a prayer card
a green rosary
S. made
two years ago
a work badge
on a floral pink lanyard
On the back seat floorboard
rests a recycled grocery tote bag
full of recycled grocery tote bags
another bag still holds
black velvet flats
a blue tulle skirt
white tights
a black satin sash
black leather sneakers
and a long, blonde wig
from last month's
comic con event
Somewhere underneath
those bags
is a black drawstring backpack
donning a half marathon logo
eight years past
a rolled up yoga mat
three pairs of sunglasses
In the way back
sit three bags
of outgrown clothes
(mine)
meant for a thrift store
I pass every day
on my way home
remembering they're back there
as I pass the light
I'll drop everything off
tomorrow
March means clear blue skies popping wildflowers grass awakening from winter's slumber thick and green twittering birds gentle breezes air perfumed with blooming jasmine March means oak trees doing what oak trees do their spiky little pollen nuggets littering the ground invading my headspace tickling my throat choking me up making my nose drip drip drip postponing that evening walk
years ago I wondered why eating dinner made me queasy twenty one years ago we drove around looked at an empty lot paid for it and stared at each other dumbfounded did we just purchase a new home? twenty one years ago we found out there's a baby on the way to help us occupy it so much expectation in those twenty one years growth pain possibilities struggle lucky number seven three times over
Nerds Beget Nerds 