Six Poems

 ...And Now I Feel Lighter

1.

My Favourite Pants

'Twas love at first sight

My favourite pants and I

Hanging on that rack

You did so excite

My thrift store heart

Clothes, an art

Collections 

Selections

Perfection, the fabric

Soft, just right

The fit, not too tight

I could tell just by looking

No need to try on

Tiger faces a-roar

No tag inside to inspect

The price just right:

Two dollars

My Favourite Pants 


2.

Here Comes My Man

Is that him, again, that riff-raff look?

Cycling up that hill?

No helmet (no brains?!), just touque (so Canadian!!)

No visibility gear

Just green, maybe some rips, the pants from yesterday

And the day before that

And the day before that

Hands in pockets, no need to steer

Maybe filming, or photoing, or texting me now

Sending a song

Or, finding his route

Heart a-flutter, it might be him! 

Serendipity again!

Whoops, twas

Mistaken

But grateful he'll be-a-home later

I'll save the flutter 

Till then 


3.

Gloves

Leaving a site I realize I have misplaced my gloves

They are not special, but they are good old stand bys, I realize in this moment

Gloves! I will find you! No matter I have an extra pair in my bag!

Gloves! I will find you!

Or, at least do my best.

Re-trace my steps. An exercise for the brain.

I CAN remember which ways I went. 

Back to the lunch room, peek in, no not there, not even under the chair.

I'm running late, but

Gloves! I will find you!

Or, at least do my best.

To the garage is where I should go next, the place where my key didn't work today, but I tried anyway.

Maybe you're there?

Gloves! I will find you!

Alas, not there. 

I must go around. Around

the building.

Maybe they're on the ground

somewhere.

Gloves!

Circled around, nearly back to my bike. 

I tried my best, gloves! I put up a noble fight! A fight against droppage, forgetful carelessness. Which?

Oh! Before my bike, one last stop!

At the shop...

the shop that's now closed.

Alas, gloves. I have failed you. 

(Lost and found you did not 

prove yourself that useful when I lost the lid to my brand new cup.)

Gloves.

Gloves!!!

There you are on the ground, hanging out with my bike.

Just under my basket that's locked up all tight.

Loose, you are, waiting. On the ground.

Waiting for me,

waiting to be found.

 

4.

Fruitcake

Don't make the same mistake

With that tempting fruitcake

The one with the marzipan

No one else likes you

So I, just I!

Just inHILED you

And then got sugar sores in my mouth

Not, a fan 

 

5.

A Great Song

'Tis my greatest distraction

At the store, the coffee shop, the waiting room, a work site

To hear a song! An "Oh I LOVE this song!" song

An "Oh I FORGOT about this song!" song

An "Oh WHO is this artist doing this song and WHAT is this song called again?!" song

I cannot concentrate

I must hum along, or sing, or let it transport me

To Y2K or that place or person or feeling or want

I cannot TALK now, don't make me

I will disappoint

I'm somewhere else, I'm with the song

A great song is my greatest distraction

*ps 

today twas Iron and Wine Passing Afternoon 

OMG I'm old.

 

6.

Lunchly

Did I ever tell you how my children became school celebrities when they brought home Lunchly from the USA?

As we travelled it was the souvenir they must have

And I realized how AMERICAN they are

And are NOT

Because they wanted this AMERICAN thing so bad, to show off in CANADA

This Lunchly some glamourous lunch-able hack created by youtubers who all want to sell

To sell and make their wallets fat

"You're falling for the advertising, you know," I chided

"We have to get it! Can you find a Fred Meyer?"

(Do they even know what Fred Meyer is? Like I do? AMERICANS, they sell it all. I should know.)

Ok we'll go, ok we'll go, ok we'll go

I said a million times. And then we went. To Fred Meyer. On our way home, just before the border.

We tried a Target first (hey why not?)...they couldn't find it, but they did not try.

They were too embarrassed.

Too embarrassed to ask and to admit that they wanted Lunchly. 

But oh how they wanted it.

Fred Meyer, the source. Greta found it (of course?), in some aisle. 

"Hosea! Greta found it."

Runs, I mean, practically. The smiles of delight. The pointing! The embarrassedly proud grabbing, the other sister too cool to drool like they did, but amused by the sight of it all. Perhaps secretly proud.

Transporting it home, across the border, the Lunchlys were royalty. Seatbelted. Kept cool with air from above, so their processed meat "drippy" cheesiness wouldn't spoil.

When Greta recalled the moment she found them Hosea said, "Someday you can tell your kids about this" deadpan hilariously. Seriously.

When they took them to school, after preciously refrigerating them at home, they were celebrities. Hosea requiring who-knows-what in terms of "dares" so that his friends could...touch the Lunchly? Try a weird piece from it? (I don't want to know?) Greta "allowed" a friend to use it as a prop for some acting.

Some fell, I guess: 

"I even ate some off the floor."

"I like my cheese drippy, 

bro."

Don'tchaknow?

Now I know.

(And, you're welcome.)

 



 



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Pandemic Of The People

I have been accused of "mocking" covid deaths. I have been accused of being "ok with killing grandma". I have been accused of being a negligent parent whose child may not survive his fifth birthday. Those are hateful and hurtful and untrue things to say. I am writing here to shed a humane light on people like me. To defend myself, and to defend others like me. Maybe some don't think that's necessary--that I'm being too sensitive or blowing this out of proportion. Maybe some who used to like me now hate me? Maybe some think I've gone nuts. Maybe some are curious, and open, and want to listen. And, I know some of you are just like me. I hope whoever you are, that you stay here. And hear me out. Find comfort in what I write, or find some sense of understanding. We can agree, and we can disagree. Either is ok with me. But it's not ok with me to be accused of the above.  ----------------------------------------------------------- How'd we all get ...
Read more

ADDICTION

It's in all caps cause it's a loaded word. Isn't it? You don't want to see it, it's kind of ugly, harsh, terrifying, you want to run from it ...or...maybe you want to run TO it? Because it feels safe. Safer, more predictable, than an unpredictable world. I'm going to be writing about a very loaded and heavy and sensitive subject tonight. I'm taking a risk in doing that, but the ideas for my posts pop in naturally. I don't have to force to find something. Sometimes more than one idea pops at once, but I always know which to go with. And tonight it's ADDICTION. When I was 16 I had my first real boyfriend. I *think* I fell in love, all that, I mean honestly maybe the love part wasn't really there, but to my 16 year old self it was. So I count it. Plus the relationship went on for the better part of a year, and was as serious as you can be when you're just 16. This was nearly 24 years ago, and, of course, it ended in heartbreak. That's ...
Read more

Five Years Later

I'm here again, taking a break from licking the cupcake batter on the eve of Hosea's 5th birthday. I know I know, you shouldn't eat cake batter that has eggs in it. I take chances sometimes. Usually things work out. It's common to feel nostalgic on birthdays isn't it? Some people, more than others, feel this way. I know today when Hosea was saying to me, "Mama, you 39, next you gonna be 40" and I was saying, "Yes, let's not speak of it" well, the whole birthday thing was getting to me. And I have many more months to go! For a kid, though, having a birthday doesn't usually have that kind of baggage yet. Tomorrow Hosea can no longer tell people, "I'm 4 and a half, almost 5" when they ask him how old he is. He can simply say, "I'm 5"! (We'll see, he might have to start adding days to that, given his whole obsession with numbers happening right now!). Of course, a parent is gonna feel that nostalgia when t...
Read more