Pages from a Spiral Bound LIfe| An Online Writing and Art Journal

Waiting

December 8, 2009

The waitress says, “Hello, how are you?”
The diners do not reply.
They’re buried in their menus, selecting their sides.
Baked beans, carrots, cottage cheese.
So many things to choose from.
The waitress says, “How can I help you?”
One man raises an eye,
Then drops it back again to read about the meatloaf.
Onions, peppers, grade-A beef.
He thinks it sounds delicious.
The waitress [...]

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So?

December 8, 2009

“This fish tastes fishy.” she says.
I chew my food.
“Did you hear me?” she says.
I nod my head.
“Taste it.” she says.
“I’d rather not.” I say.
So the fish tastes fishy,
The beef tastes beefy,
The fruit tastes fruity,
And the drinks are cold and wet.
I don’t see the problem.

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An Assessment of My Father on a Summer Day

December 3, 2009

Not a good mechanic,
no, not unless
you think hoisting
a lawn mower engine
above your head
with sunburned arms
and flinging it
downward
into the weeds
is proper routine maintenance.

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Near the Edge

December 3, 2009

You are white cotton
wrapped around a barrel.
As you stroll down Broadway
on your tree trunk legs,
I’m near the edge of running
to match your forceful stride.
You are arms and hands
hewn from planks of wood.
As you lift me upward
to place me on the counter,
I’m near the edge of flying
through the tiles in the ceiling.
You’re a cappella background noise,
a [...]

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