Latte Grande

She begins quite simply
sipping her latte
turning back the cover
of the two dollar tabloid
revealing sadness unfolding
in the celebrity world.

It begins quite simply
the story it tells her
of love that was star studded true,
but it somehow goes wrong,
the fame blinding their eyes
to the reality life is to us all.

She simply states that her
dark eyes and recreated bust
are coldly divorcing
the handsome movie star stud
whom the rest of the country
is just wishing were coming
for comfort and cuddling arms.

Each page simply tells a reminder
that no matter your glamour,
your cosmopolitan flare,
or your houses, your boats,
no matter your Pepsodent smile,
things come to an end
as the pages are turned
as all delicious stories do.

Then quiet simply
the empty paper cup,
along with the couple,
is casually tossed in the trash.

Pre-teen Prophecy

Paper folds into triangle
upon triangle
that opens the flaps to tell
whether she likes someone
or that someone likes her
or if her favorite color is blue.

And after the ceremony
a slice of cake is kept
in a tiny cardboard box
under her pillow
in hopes of luring
a husband of her own.

While holding a string dangling
a sewing needle
is stuck in the end
of the pencil’s eraser
over her wrist
to circle or tell the angle
that indicates the birth
of a future boy or a girl.

When battling the cosmos
with the weapons on hand,
a girl’s got to do
what a girl’s got to do.

Row 3 Seat G

Row 3 Seat G
occupies a sleeper
exhausted or bored
with his travels.

His right black tennis shoe
is in the aisle
the other bent up
while his knee wedges
into the seat in front.

People passing by
on their way to the restroom
brush ticklish
the hairs on his leg.

With his eyes still shut
he reaches one hand down
to scratch while the other
hugs a pillow
he brought from home.

Another passenger
has bumped his leg
and annoyed,
he shifts to a new position.

The arm of his chair
digs into his side
and he rolls again
into his original pose.

Row 3 Seat G
occupies a sleeper.

Shhh….

Dating

Dilemma

disingenuous
daisies

dangerous
dark
debonair
dude

deliberately
deceived

dainty
demure
dateless
dame

desperation
denial

dab
damp
drop
discard

damn
debris

dense
depression
deduce
decanter

diary
diarrhea

Ex-Ray Eyes

If superman could set his eyes
on the baggage aboard this plane
he would start with the tapestry bag
of a woman reading the celebrity page.

While she reads of glamour
and fast lane lives,
her belonging reveal her story:

Lipstick and mascara,
a white lace slip and jewelry,
shoes and perfumed sachet,
all fitting someone who likes
glamour and glitz.

But then dig deeper
and read from a different page:

A styrofoam container
with bread and some butter
the frugal remains
of today’s meal
with tiny soap and shampoo
saved for her daughter.

It is the appropriate bag
of the two sided woman
with her head in the clouds
and her feet on the ground.

First Flight

Exit opens, rotate handle
mechanical robots
point the way
to yellow raft slides
and one foot safe
on the ground.
I pray.

Sitting beside
the terminal
seasoned traveler
contentedly sipping juice
while lost in the space
of a good book.
I pray.

I in my tenseness
travel alone
watching the stewardess
for signs of nervousness
and rereading pamphlets
of airplane schematics.
I pray.

Mid-air Antics

The aircraft continues
its endless headache hum
crowding out the chatter
of seated strangers
forced to fill four hours
of the cramped quartered quest
to the other side of the country.

And I bypass the juice
when offered to me
as I know the limitations
of the airplane lavatory
closet like claustrophobia
awaits with Barbie doll fixtures
and warning sign decorations.

The baby starts fussing
and mother shushing
the passengers turn their heads
to headphones or windows
and angry stares
when the solitude of lavatory
is now inviting,

but I’ve had no juice.

Sizing It Up

I’m five feet two
and smaller than most
yet my arms touch
the rests side to side,
but my foot sticks out
and must be pulled in
when the passengers pass
in the one foot aisle.

Breakfast arrives on a tray
no more than eight by ten
enclosing in plastic wrap
with fried potato cubes,
greasy sausage links,
a round biscuit formation,
and meat flavored
with a hint of ham
that spilled with an ooze
I’m trusting to be cheese.

Saving the sweet roll
to redeem the rest,
my stomach is fooled
and breakfast is measured
at ten thousand feet.

Preflight Checklist

San Francisco Flight 37 left at 7:30 a.m.
with a miss-sortment of passengers
and disinterest in the stewardess’s eyes.

She flashed her professional smile
when the cue light went on
and welcomed all aboard.

Even you –
young inexperienced mother
with your screaming child.

Even you –
three fifty-something ladies
complaining already of leg room.

Even you –
with your crosswords and books
to absently fill your time on board.

Even you –
pillow takers from home
not content with a pocket sized one.

Even you –
with your nervous first flight eyes
scanning exits and floatation devices.

Even you –
chatty Kathy who must know
everyone’s name on board.

Even you –
giggly eight year old traveling alone
with your Barbies and markers staining.

Even you –
snoring already even though
we have not left the ground.

Please buckle your seatbelts.
We expect another uneventful flight.

The miss-sortment of passengers
didn’t even bother to look in her eyes
and Flight 37 took off to the skies.

Burning Love

When they were little
mean boys burnt ants
with a magnifying glass
while horrified girls screamed
and tattled to their moms.

Later the boys grew up
to challenge their manhood
with only a dollar
while swinging a hammer
and ringing a bell.

The years have tarnished
their cotton stuffed prizes
and ex-girlfriends
with spring-cleaning fever
can’t burn them fast enough.

Dr. Livingston, I Presume?

Dense and overgrown
inaccessible
entangled and formidable
a thicket of an amalgamation
that must be brandished
with sharpness,
the jungle of your mind is impenetrable.

What does it take to get through to you?

History Repeats

When Nathaniel loved Katherine
their initials were carved
with a pocket knife
into a tree
to last forever.

Now Nate loved Kate
with their eternal love
posted on Facebook
until a keystroke
erased it in a second.

Suck It Up

She was crying softly
hiding her face
behind her bangs.

So her mother tied a red curly ribbon
holding a mylar balloon
onto her wrist.

In the metallic reflection
she saw the distorted image
of herself.

And even at seven
she knew enough
to let it go.

But not before
she inhaled the helium
and laughed like a demented squirrel.

When the Stove is Cold

There are one hundred and nine
crumbling edged
faded pages
each with a recipe
she wrote in cursive
all tied with a maroon ribbon.

The recipes intrigued me with
long ago provocative titles:
shrimp wiggle,
snowball pudding,
floating island,
and sea foam.

Fried frog legs
or salmon croquettes
were served with oyster fritters
and desert might boast
a lemon sunshine cake.

With forgotten knowledge
of how to measure temperature
with the correct size
of wood to burn,
her stove created history.

I could imagine it took forever
for her to write down
the ingredients and directions
for how to recreate
her Norwegian home.

But at the flea market
I only paid five dollars
for this woman’s life.