Think Cool Thoughts

When it is 95 and so oppressive
that your hair drips at your neckline
and stickiness is the order of the day,
think cool thoughts.

Think of frost on the windowpane
where your fingers press designs
like puffy thumbprint flowers
with your nails dragging crystals
into the lines of your boyfriend’s name
until numbness forces you to stop.

Remember the effort of shoveling snow
with the sidewalk longer
than it is in summer
and your fingers must be pulled
from their individual coats
into the space of your glove’s palm
until numbness forces you to stop.

Think of cracking ice cubes
from the old-fashioned trays
where ice shards cling to the plastic
and your fingernails have to dig them out
until you have enough to for a blender
full of orange juice and brandy slush
and you drink your fill
until numbness forces you to stop.

But I’m not there yet,
so pour me another
and drink cool thoughts.

Can You Hear Me Now?

When I walked into the wheat field
my shoes stirred up the dusty ground
and brown spitting grasshoppers
jumped up and clung to my pants.

I jumped myself and danced
around and around with my arms
flailing against the sky
and I screamed a few words
that would have sent my mother
to the bathroom for a bar of Ivory.

But she had gone to town
and left me to run like the wild chickens
under Grandma’s watchful eyes
which still work good,
unlike her ears.

But I could hear Grandma laughing
as she stepped in the furrows
to call me in to lunch with the scent
of freshly baked molasses cookies,
and even Grandma could hear me drool.

Eat at Joe’s

Small cafés are not large enough
to fit the thousand words
that a picture is worth,
so their patrons discuss
every facet of life with an upward nod
of their heads and four simple words:

Hot enough for ‘ya.

They could be describing
the coffee, the weather,
the new waitress, etc., etc., etc.

It is not a question.
Not really even an observation.
Just expected routine conversation
that can be filled in with
any assortment
of interchangeable descriptors
as varied as the menu:

Cold enough for ‘ya.
Windy enough for ‘ya.
Boring enough for ‘ya.
Etc., etc. etc.

And when the plates are cleared
and the bills paid,
they go home and ask everything
that no one wanted to know
with four simple words:

How was your day?