He said he feared she’d figure out
just what a duck he is.
His language cracked her can with doubt
and flattened all the fizz.
Her second self-described as tense
and though she disagreed,
the stress with him waxed so immense,
their future waned at speed.
It took her nearly 50 years
of argument and grief,
to give a partner both her ears:
attention and belief.
It used to be, when temps increased this much,
we’d go to chilly theaters, patronize
cool restaurants, or visit venues such
as water parks, or any enterprise
that by its situation or machines
provided shade and cooler moving air.
But this year’s plague restricts us from those scenes,
and lately fires kindle everywhere.
Supposed to leave our windows closed, we sweat
alone inside the rooms that bore us now.
We turn on fans but try to keep the smoke
outside. We fix iced drinks and stroke the wet
condensing on the glass. We made the how,
but still this summer seems a cosmic joke.
At 13 years, my baby and his friend
were booted off a local user group
for hacking. Neither meaning to offend,
the breach was bad but when we got the scoop,
we parents were discreetly proud to hear
our boys were quite the youngest ever caught
so deep into the system. It was clear
the kids were talented, was what we thought.
They grew up to be software engineers,
who might direct their skills to stopping Vlad
from launching any ploy that interferes
with us, or poisoning his foes. He’s mad
of course – a creature cruel and tyrant grim,
but we’re rambunctious! We should fuck with him.
![flag[1]](https://sputterpub.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/flag1.jpg?w=324&h=200)
I almost died when I was 35;
emergencies and error laid me low.
But after weeks of pain I was alive –
they pulled my tubes the night before I’d go
back home, and left me in my sterile cell,
and that’s when I began to sob. Relief
cascaded, while I felt my body tell
how long I’d been suppressing fear and grief.
Last week I watched the roll call on TV
and started crying, much to my surprise.
Astounded by our great diversity,
I yelled “I miss us!” as I realized
how much I’ve held my grief and worry in.
But now the march to better can begin.
I told my toddler buddy he’d be four
next time he has a birthday. He replied
“and will I be a grownup then?” (Mature
for forty months, he’s lately working on
the values of our common number lore).
“I’m happy when you’re here. It’s like a gift,”
he said to me this morning. I was floored.
He learns so fast, he may be verified –
soon more adult than many I’ve adored.
(Magic 9)
I can’t remember when I bought this fan –
a tower that can radiate the air:
create a V-shaped breeze for pre-set span
of operation, placed most anywhere.
I used to use it for the dozen days
a year, when calefaction re-occurs
(a benefit to living by our bay
is little need for air conditioners).
Last year, I had a ceiling fan installed.
It cools my cottage and dismays the flies.
I moved the tower to my office shed
across the deck. Today, like I recalled
its good, I set it up to optimize
a breeze I love, upon my back and head.
I wonder was my mother scared of me;
I think she was expecting someone less.
By far the youngest in her family,
she never thought I’d bring her so much stress.
I wasn’t good at tractable or sweet.
She called me lazy, selfish, and effete.
She said I must behave or be ignored.
I tried to be compliant; I was bored.
My story’s not unique. I had a choice:
behave or be alone. I chose the last.
I hunkered in my bedroom. She harassed,
but I enjoyed my solitude and voice.
(I thought I was too odd and spoke too fast,
but maybe I was lovingly miscast.)
(Pushkin Sonnet)
“In vino veritas” is not quite true,
unless by “true” we really mean “sincere.”
While alcohol can dis-inhibit you,
it won’t increase your honesty at all.
The qualities you tried to hide from view –
embarrassments and actions causing shame –
are given leave by booze to ooze and spew.
So bias and stupidity are clear,
but nothing wise or useful can ensue.
(Magic 9)
![Hospital[1]](https://sputterpub.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/hospital1.jpg?w=262&h=201)
At least a quarter century ago,
they said I had arthritis in my neck.
Referred for therapy, I got to know
techniques to keep increasing pain in check,
and traction to resuscitate the wreck
between my shoulders. That was when I learned,
to have my flexibility returned
I’d need to stop collecting tension there.
Relapsing lately, 2020-churned,
I fantasize a transplant for repair.
(Dizain)
I’ve been an early riser 30 years
or so, with energy from dawn to 3.
I’m waking now before the sun appears,
but that’s from time of year and not from me.
I never set a clock; I’m naturally
awake by 6, but now the light’s recessed,
for dawn is daily later. Hard to see:
a marker for our endless house arrest.
(Huitain)
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