Tag: everyday

The he-she-we sounds

The he-she-we sounds

Sometimes I’m lost in personal pronouns
The he-she-we sounds
That are our connection to each other
With words that weave another
Thought that sticks in the mix
Of he-she-we.

Hello?

Hello?

I just received a pocket call
And all I could say was “Hello?”
“Hello?”
“Hello?”
I didn’t say hi
As if I knew
That you
Wouldn’t respond to
A hi or a hey,
Nope, I had to say
“Hello?”

Worthless

Worthless

I couldn’t help but look and think oddly,
He was a man trapped in a woman’s body.

This was when he was younger, obviously not now.
Now he was a grown man that somehow
Found the strength to stand up and share
That he had been stuck in there
For nine long months, unprotected on this earth
Until his mother gave birth, giving him worth.

Restroom

Restroom

If I had my choice, I’d not repeat
That warm feeling of heat
That caught me off guard today
In an uncomfortable way
As I sat on the toilet seat.

Progress

Progress.

My will to go on had passed away
But something changed my mind today.
I started walking to I-don’t-know-where,
Desperately trying to get there.
And when I picked up the pace
I was just running in place.
But there’s something in the doing
I’m undoubtedly pursuing
As I resurrect my dead will
Just by going on the treadmill.

Orange juice and tooth paste

Orange juice and tooth paste

Brushing wasn’t any use
Since I broke the flavor truce
With orange juice.

Whether I like it or not
That spot in my mouth
Went south
When my tooth paste
Became time-waste
And aftertaste.

Airplane Drinks

You come down the aisle
in ala carte style.
methodically, you lock the cabinet on wheels
that steals my attention,
instinctive prevention.

It’s a survival-of-the-fittest thing
So that you bring
Me a drink.

Eyes look up
Longingly for a cup.
“notice me” they blink,
motioning for a drink.
“Fan-freakin’-tastic” I think.

Your serving everyone but me
I’m sitting here, hands free
Fingers on the traytable unfolded
Tracing an empty cup indention molded
Into the plastic,
“Fantastic.”

Then your lips move setting sail
To words that prevail
In the motion of your lips.
A precursor to my sips?
I couldn’t hear what you said
Over the hum of the airplane,
Panic is sent to the brain.

Confused, I sniff my armpits

I thought the lips I read had said
“Good that you don’t stink.”
Turns out she had said instead,
“Wouldn’t you like a drink?”

But since I was checking for armpit slime,
I didn’t respond in time
And I’m now left with out a drink
Sitting in fictitious stink.

Flat-Escalator Toy

Flat-Escalator Toy

Absolutely I’ll ride the moving walk-way
Walk-on and sway
To get some sort of joy
Like a little boy
on an escalator toy
that doesn’t rise,
but smiles my eyes.

Absolutely I’ll smile
While you walk slower than me standing
Until I trip getting off and my landing
Catches your eye
While I,
Smile.

Pre-Meeting

Wrote this this morning before a meeting, still sleepy eyed and staring at a blue projector screen.

Pre-meeting

Blue reflections on a glass that pass refracted,
Barley reflected to the edges,
Meet my coffee-less eyes.
I take a sip to drip slurps of coffee
As clanks of silver slivered spoons
Soon fill the room of silence,
Violence to rest it starts in the form of talking,
Breaking respite, stalking the quiet
With a “good morning” riot.

Flying to Miami

Flying to Miami

We’re sitting in vibrating chairs
Each surrounded by blank stares
Of people with sudoku puzzles and books
Occasionally taking second looks
At the landscape outside
Of our airplane ride.

I’m looking past someone repeating
The motion of peanut eating
To jagged cotton mountains
Or the base of foaming fountains
Frozen in time that goes on forever
In a white sunlit endeavor
To make me mention
That God grabbed my attention.