Hilton Beach Resort, Ft. Lauderdale

I looked for someone today…

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I looked for someone today

I looked for someone today--

someone like me.

Sitting by the pool,

shaded by the palm trees

and surrounded by sea

I was on the lookout for me’s.

I saw some me’s:

much younger me’s

chatting desultorily

with boyfriends and girlfriends

in the water.

I saw some other

younger me’s--

playing with their daughters

in the pool.

Out on the beach I saw

empty nester me’s—

walking hand in hand

on the sand.

I even saw

some older me’s—

the men smoothing sun screen

on the me’s backs

But I saw no alone me’s.

I was the only alone me--

that I could see by the sea,

that I could see by the sea.

(Addendum:  Sunday, 10/10/10 Two me girlfriends

sit before me.  Sunglasses and manicured nails and

lightly dyed hair. I think they are Canadians.)

The birds are outnumbered here

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The birds are outnumbered here

The birds are outnumbered here.
They do the best the can.

They snatch the nibblets
left behind on the grass
under the picnic tables.

They gather the remains
of McDonald leftovers
left over on the curbs.

They make their little nests
from the litter
in parking lots.

But there is more
than they can recycle,
more trash, more scraps.

A daily tidal wave of debris
discarded by the disparaged--
A deplorable circle.

The birds can’t hand it all, and…
we are outnumbered by the careless.

Beyond I can see

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Beyond, I can see

The birds are outnumbered here.
They do the best the can.

They snatch the nibblets
left behind on the grass
under the picnic tables.

Grocery bags
are snagged by fences
or flutter in the trees

Lunch and dinner
leftovers are left over
on the curbs.

But I can see sunflowers
in the garden
across the street.

And I can see the river
twinkling day or night
in the sun or street light.

Beyond, I can see
the skyline in the sunsets
and trains moving east and west.

I gave mom a bite of cookie

I gave mom a bite of cookie.
It was an immediate disaster.
How many places can a cookie go besides the mouth?
Ask my mother. No, ask me.

As she guided it to her lips,
the precious tidbit
was crushed too tight. Faster than the speed of light,
crumbs fell upon her blouse. And pants.

And, I spied upon that shirt
dusted with crumbs,
one chocolated escapee glaring back at me.
And, on the floor, there was more.

She wiped her mouth with the
compacted remains of a tissue.
Much too small to do the job, yet undaunted, and voila:
Chocolate Chip Lipstick.

Ah, and on those fumbling fingers
in cahoots with cookie demise
uncaring and unaware, more chip smears appear.
Cookie and mom conspire against me.

And what I want to know is:
did any cookie arrive at the destination?

Nude descending a staircase
(or I love hot tub jets)

Nude wearing an aqua marine swimsuit descending a staircase
Down, down, down into the turbulent waters of heat, heat, heat
For shame Duchamp—your nude is nothing like mine.
Yours is all broken angles, mine is all soft and complete.

My nude sinks smoothly even gracefully into the depths
A veritable leviathan of lightness and being.
Jet trails above chalking the blue blue blue sky
Eyes turning upward, breath escaping, steam rising.

For shame Duchamp, your nude of fractured disks and boxy planes
Is pummeled by the stormy steam jets below, ouchy upon ouchy
Destroyed by the froth and noise of water, color and freedom
I see mares tails and jet trails above, my nude is caressed and kissed.

I woke up this morning with a clothespin in my bed

I woke up this morning
with a clothespin in my bed.
The sun was more or less up,
But I rolled over away from the light.

I stretched my legs across the mattress
seeking comfort, but my toe discovered something
tucked beneath the bottom sheet.
A clothespin.

How could this be?
Hadn’t I dried these sheets in a dryer,
not on a line?

It was nice having a clothespin from fresh clean sheets
in bed with me.

***

And when I pulled the bed apart for the night,
There was a TV remote.
How can this be?