Frame Box
I can’t find the frame box,
The one that locks
Unused frames in cardboard
Indefinitely stored
Until the need arises
To frame those surprises
That are unanticipated,
The ones that created
The pulse for this race
In the first place.
Unorganized and incomplete
I must admit defeat.
I guess I have to accept the blame too
Since I can’t frame you.
The crumpled bill diet.
I just Passed a glassed trapper,
Containing a reflective wrapper
Framing a high fructose frustration
In my lack of a sugary sensation.
Looking through the force field of glass,
I punch in the code and pass
My dollar bill through the slot
But it’s not as flat as I thought
And the machine returns my dollar bill.
So I do some reverse origami but still
My single just won’t mingle with machines,
So a dollar less of candy fills my jeans.
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.
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
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.
Facebook Happy Birthday
Absolutely nothing that I’m about to say
Is going to top the others who consistently relay
A “Happy Birthday” message with a personal aside
But with this cut-and-pasted poem, I can say I’ve tried.
Taking down the Christmas tree
The most effective way to see
The needles flinging off the tree
Would simply be to set it free
From living room captivity.
Stripped of all of its décor,
We’ll try to get it out the door
Leaving memories once more,
As treeless needles on the floor.
My Little Fixer-Upper
I am constantly running out of space
In this absurdly small little place
I call my own. Clearly, I’m outgrowing
This mobile home. I’m showing
Signs that I need to get moving,
But with laziness improving
This fixer-upper’s frequently
Content with what you see.
Pearl of Wisdom
Not to be a phrase-attacker,
But “The World is your Oyster” seems out of date
Perhaps more people would relate
To “The world is your Oyster Cracker.”
Full Moon
I love standing on my porch looking at a full moon
Unless it’s a random naked buffoon
‘Cause then I’d respectfully have to pass
Rather than stare at somebody’s crass.
I like it when moon beams pierce through a cloud
And shine down on us when the sun’s not allowed.
But moon streaks shine down “where the sun don’t”
So I’d rather not look, and I simply won’t.
But often my eyes are drawn to a stare
When they notice my legs are exceedingly bare
‘Cause sometimes I go on my porch unaware
I’m Pants-less participant standing out there.
BonjourPoetry 