|We grow our skeeters big around here|
Across the sun-hazy street,
they drag bulky chairs
into the beauty shop
parking lot, sweating enough
for a wet t-shirt contest,
Seat the maids & proceed
to make-up slick skin, paint
fingers royal purple & roll
In every effort to make
this bride's day special---
us powerless, and all.
130 trees fell, at the golf course
alone, who will mourn
who will mourn
Their bodies line the ditches
stacked, waiting for pick up
A testament to poor product placement
the first book on the bargain rack at Barnes & Noble
is the Ultimate Guide to Survival
This is not that, though, but a slow boil
of bones in a bag of flesh, eating soup
on a hot day ---
we taste each other with our noses
The earth moves beneath our feet, no one
still enough to notice, until this---now
each turn spins, spins, spins
in slow progress.
Someone asked about my mental faculties
in this heat wave, what a relief!
they're out on summer break
No worries though, they have tenure
and will be back next year.
Stu threw me a soft ball over at dVerse Poets today - asking about the weather. Well, I have been writing about it all week. I did have quite a few short impressions though that i figured I would never post, but here is my chance. I promise, no more weather poems for a bit. Smiles. Maybe your weather is better, come join us @ dVerse and write something poetic about the it or....well, see you at 3 pm EST.