UNTITLED

It was flag day again

I had not yet been to Pennsylvania

I pretended to know the difference between “soon” and “now”

Mondays, we make roast chicken

Tuesdays, we go out

The waiter mistakes my mom for a grandma

My other mom for a dad

My pony for a sister

Her salad for a garden

The napkin for my mouth

I brush it off

I brush it all off

A fork against a crown

GREATER BUFFALO

I thought a hair shirt genuinely sounded like fun

I saw that famous painting of a dog on a leash and thought hey, that’s me

After our day at the museum, my oldest cousin wanted to play hair salon

Only she actually cut my hair and somehow I was the one who got in trouble

This was in Greater Buffalo, where I was told to read the phone book in the attic on a bench

I stayed there way past dinner time, calm as a walrus and arguably zen

In school, they warned us about everything hypothetically

Jane said if the Arctic melted, she wouldn’t be able to miss the penguins because she hadn’t met them yet

Meanwhile, another kid made a sculpture from used tissues

Meanwhile, a hockey puck broke through the glass

Sitting in the attic, I was hungry like a mermaid

And tired like a belt

Though I never said much, I had a rich inner life

That’s what they call it now–– an inner life

PICKLEBALL

What is it?

Wanna play?

The day is a leotard

Too small for me to wear

Like a dent in dough

I disappear

Glutinous!

Like overalls, I lean

Rudely on a chair

Why do I feel

So whac-a-mole

When the hours we spend

Roll by me like swans

I guess pickleball

Is not tennis

I guess a lifetime

Is not long

O I have lived

Like a spindle

I’ve spun everything

Into yarn