The artist worked in watercolor on
a pastel-rendered outline of balloon.
He used his favorite hue for what was drawn,
and backed it with good contrast. Afternoon
was picked to showcase artwork that would soon
be moved to home to quickly disappear.
So I’ll preserve his photograph, right here.
(Rhyme Royal)
Exertion that’s required can produce
exquisite feeling after it is done.
I had to leave my home and put in use
commuting skills, too early to be fun.
My coffee I’d the tactic to reduce
(so bladder pressure ratcheted to none).
Two hours later I attained my nest –
with coffee and a fire, I’m unstressed.
(Ottava Rima)
Today I have to brave the DMV.
My license shows an expiration date
that’s coming soon. I have PTSD
from when I last endured their stink and wait.
But after this, I get a REAL ID
that’s good for years, according to the state.
My shopping’s done. I’m needing to remember
tomorrow I can start to love December.
(Ottava Rima)
This month and next the temperature’s as low
as it will be all year, at my address.
It isn’t even freezing, but you know
we aren’t built to weather frostiness.
I use a wooden shed to store the mess
of paper, upright bike, and my PC.
And though my heater’s on and warm’s my dress,
the space is finger-numbing cold to me.
(Huitain)
Does your mask despair?
The positive sign at BART
addresses that plight.
It’s rainy. I don’t want to make a fuss.
I’m fit but old and home is beckoning.
I try to exit (rear door) from the bus –
“Excuse me” doesn’t budge youth reckoning
I’ll edge aside – I get to hear her cuss
while boarding, as I shoulder-clip her wing.
And what did I accomplish or improve?
I think next time it happens, she might move.
(Ottava Rima)
In 1998, when Google came
upon the scene, and still 9 years before
the iPhone introduction, I could claim
a quarter century of office work.
Then pension plan consulting was the name
describing us, and when we needed help,
we called on colleagues, brain-stormed: all aflame
with strategies and questions, theories, more.
As substitute, the Internet is lame.
(Magic 9)
We know the clock face features moving hands,
but we can’t watch the motion of the one
for hours. Everybody understands
it moves, yet eyes do not perceive its run.
In growing up with analog, our frame
of reference thus includes the metaphor
that shift occurs – some things are not the same –
though none of us observe the move for sure.
And sometimes we don’t notice that we change.
I’m me right now like I was yesterday –
no tragedy’s occurred since then, no strange
event that might have altered me, okay?
But life’s an hour hand – there’s still a case
for teaching kids the analog clock face.
I wrestled with a client all last week,
for after answering his questions right,
I had to counter his attempts to tweak
our joint perspective till, within his sight,
he’d get results he sought (or tried to seek).
I used deliberate words and expert might.
I had to be exactly, clearly nice.
And though it wasn’t fair I was precise.
(Ottava Rima)
Some months ago I gave up using pot.
I had to stop inhaling smoke or vape.
My bronchiae protested such a lot
I heeded, though too late for full escape.
I sampled edibles, but their delay,
and flavor that repelled or led to more
than needed, didn’t satisfy the way
I wanted from the stuff I liked before.
I always knew there’d come a time to quit
if I lived long enough, but the surprise
was how the ending felt appropriate,
and bettered me in mood. Today’s surmise –
I used to use to alter how I thought,
and didn’t notice changes aging wrought.
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