March The Daily (W)Rite March wk 4

The New Daily (W)Rite

wk o4

Sunday, March 23, 2o14

March 23, 2o14

Afternoon sits on the windowsill
along with Dead Elvis,
Dexter and the other guys.
I'm sure the spring sun's surprised
to see the plastic snowman smile
as he dances on the window ledge
in greetings to the spring ahead.
My Peeps won't last the summer
if I leave them there and the window ledge,
and that's somewhat of a bummer.
I want the world, the trees
in the Energy Center parking lot,
the gray squirrels that will spend
their warm summer days
eating nuts and things beneath
the shade of those wonderful trees,
yes, I want them ALL to see
the tiny creatures that haunt my apartment.
rrw o3-23-14

Yes, it certainly is spring! However, it is a bit chilly and rainy. Folks are still out on the streets in their stocking caps and heavy winter coats, and the trees haven't begun to give birth to their lovely green children. But the birds know it's spring. I know it's spring by the winds breath. Yeah, still a bit cool but there's something gentle to the touch of it on my cheek, in my hair. No doubt . . . it's spring!

Tuesday, March 25, 2o14



March 24, 2o14 (Spring Poem No. 5)

"May I climb on top of you?
I'm very hot . . ." she said.
David just finished brushing
the toast crumbs from his beard,
I stared like a dead eagle at her tattoos:
A wild stallion outlined in black
galloping up a green, bicep hill side,
a drunken Donald Duck
posed for a fight
on her muscular, bare shoulder.
Caption: WHAT the FU***
you lookin at!
"Sure." I'm sure I said sure.
I know I was smiling.
She leaps up, no
flies like Superman,
up, up, and away
onto the booth seat,
one hand playfully, skillfully
turns the thermostat knob down
to sixty-five degrees.
"Ah, that's better."
She then waddles past us
to the table that needed clearing
leaving David and me admiring
the heroic acts
of the tip driven waitress
who served us spring breakfast
this lovely afternoon.

 

Yep! Yesterday I did get David up and out of his apartment just in time for breakfast at The Diner. He ate pretty light, bird like. I, of course, scarfed down a plate full of scrambled eggs wrapped in a hot flower tortilla and home-fries (back in NM we called them papitas!).  Bette Maffucci was there. We said hi as she passed our booth. We didn't notice until we were finished eating that she was sitting alone right behind us! So, we went over and apologized for not inviting her to sit with us, and we sit down to chat with her. Bette owned and ran the old Town Tavern back when I worked here. She's the one who gave me my first job in Norman Town. A feisty woman even now with lots of opinions. VERY disappointed in me when I told her we were getting ready to go to Wal-Mart for groceries. She doesn't like Wal-Mart. She thinks you should buy only local. It was great to see her. It was great just to get out of the apartment and visit with the world . . . even if it was only for a little while.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

March 26, 2o14 (Spring Poem No. 6)
 
Spring rain brings hope.
You can see it on the sidewalks,
in the leisurely stroll
of those passing by.
No hurry in a spring's rain.
Even the cars that usually rush
passed my window . . .
patiently gliding along,
their engines sigh like . . .
like a newborn waking up
after a midmorning nap.
The sparrows too
seem somewhat subdued
when a clean spring rain
comes calling.
No yelling, no screaming,
no honking of horns.
We humans . . . a strange species.
Quite gentle we can be at times.
rrw o3-26-14

Sorry. Got busy doing . . . well . . . nothing actually. I just missed a day. It's late. Very late. I'll write something tomorrow.