Archive for April 8th, 2012
“Our” Holiday
Streets are empty,
so I feel strong
in my isolation,
courageous,
but I should be with family.
How does one celebrate a resurrection?
Merely another birthday party?
It should be more,
or different.
Some may not feel comfortable
looking to be in the wrong century,
driving the right car that is so wrong.
I mow the lawn and the terrible dust
ruins the sheen on the Toyota
driven by the man with Parkinson’s
who would have rather stayed home,
it is clear, and I wonder
why they let him drive
and feel compelled to be grateful
through my muddy fog, not
understanding resurrection.
I know it won’t happen
to me, but I’ll have some ham.
Man at Lunch
The joy of giant vases,
but the shelled-out stone art,
and the man’s eye’s wander sharply
to the left and attack his laptop,
his ego flowing over the sides
of a hard restaurant booth,
and I feel the wish
expand, the wish to destroy,
the wish to eradicate humans,
starting with myself.