Tea Time

 

 

            I checked through the peephole.  I found there were five of them.  Two more than I’d been expecting.  Leave it to them to invite along their own guests without telling me.  The ducks stared up at me when I opened the door.  They started quacking immediately.  Quack, Quack, Quack.  Loudly.  I stood back and held the door open.  The ducks came in.  One of them was pulling a little red wagon.  Inside the wagon was a plate of cookies. 

            I led them to the living room.  I tried to make pleasant conversation, but the ducks were quacking quite vigorously and quite loudly, so I could not get a word in edgewise.  I had put my good china out for this tea party.  I hustled to the china cabinet to get two more settings.  The teapot was full, but I went into the kitchen to put some more water on to boil.  I wasn’t sure there would be enough tea for all of us.  I would just have a small sip; that should help.

            When I got back to the living room, I saw two of the ducks sitting on the coffee table.  One of the tea settings had been knocked over.  Another duck was quacking wildly at the cat, who was cowering in a corner.  The other two ducks were going through my DVD collection, picking a selection up with their bills and then discarding it on the floor.  The stereo was playing Sheryl Crow a little too loudly for my tastes.  And the quacking!

            I tried to pour the tea, but one of the coffee table ducks kept pecking at my hand, until I finally dropped the teapot.  It smashed to pieces on the floor.  I went into the kitchen to get some paper towels.  When I returned, the ducks that had been going through the DVDs had moved on to the CDs.  There were two piles.  The first pile included The Byrds and Counting Crows.  I assumed the other pile were the rejects.  I tried to offer a nice game of Scattergories.  I was ignored.  I cleaned up the mess that had been made of my teapot and finally gave up.  I took the tray of cookies from the red wagon.  Eating a cookie, I plopped myself down and listened to the quacking and watched the destruction of my living room. 

            Ducks have no manners, but they bake the best cookies.

Outside Baltimore

 

                      

 

Waking to the grey sunshineless light that

       falls over my bed covers

I rise and go to my window with its

       suburban snow view

The perfect white on the parking lot, like my

       own typing paper, and then the cars

       come to write their poetry

I dress like the day, grey and black with

       hard boots, so as to stomp

       the people down

I go outside where the air covers me in

       softness that I am unable to

       reach through

The smell of snow long gone from the air and

       the snow on the ground turned into

       slush, like the slush that fills the sky

I long to be two months and ten miles

       forward, sitting at the Inner Harbor

       in the spring sun

First Bloom

 

I shift into a position, purposefully, 

where I can listen to the honeysuckle

that absently teases my nose;

To sit in the woods,

these abundant gardens of wildflowers,

for hour upon hour…

Life here

is starting to bloom

Cat Poem

Sitting at our window and

watching the entrance to a restaurant,

her head rests on my shoulder;

Looking at the rising tide of people,

turning over and over;

I think about the others before her,

all special,

some with even stranger names;

But I thought of this poem while I was watching her

 

Soon the image of words died

as I became entranced with petting her fur and

as she found the unimagined spot in my heart

Life With William

 

There were more than I’d been expecting.  The night before, when I had left my jeans on the floor, there had been four holes in them.  And now, in the morning light, there were six.  The four old holes were getting a little larger everyday.  But the two new holes were small.  Small and in the shape of a little bunny mouth.

            I looked over at William.  He was looking innocent.  He was not innocent.  He munched hay, as I talked to him.

            “That’s it.  No Star Trek for you today.”

            William is a weird little bunny.  Not because he likes to chew holes in things.  That is a very normal bunny activity.  William is weird because he likes to watch Star Trek.  And he knows his Star Trek.  The Original Series.  The Next Generation.  Deep Space Nine (his personal favorite).  Voyager.  He does not, however, consider Enterprise to be a valid Star Trek series , but who among us does?  He understands that all of these things are Star Trek.  When I turn on Star Trek, he comes running into the other room and stares intently at the television.  During the commercials, he cleans his toes and ears or snuffles around.  But he understands that’s not Star Trek.  He doesn’t watch any other television shows.  Not even other science fiction.  Just Star Trek.  Weird little bunny.  So every day, at 4:00, I turn on the SciFi channel and we watch Star Trek together.  But not today.  Today, William is being punished.

            I put on my jeans, the ones with the holes in them and a tee shirt, which also had little bunny holes in it.  I padded, barefoot, into the kitchen.  William followed closely behind me, anticipating breakfast.

            Walking through the door of my kitchen, I found myself in the Oval Office.  There was a nice looking gentleman behind the desk.  No president I knew.  But, hey, anyone sitting behind the desk in the Oval Office had to be the president, right? 

            “Good morning, Mr. President.  I’m just getting some coffee.” I said to the man behind the desk.

            “Security!” the man said into an intercom.

            I walked over to a coffee trolley and poured myself a cup.  Just as I was taking my first sip, several Marines with guns were standing around me.  I walked slowly backwards, showing my hands and the fact that they held nothing but coffee.  I kept backing up.  William was circling my feet, making it hard for me to not trip and fall down.  Tripping and falling down would definitely be a bad thing.  William and I continued our slow movement backwards.  The Marines continued to point guns at us.  And then we were back in the hallway of my apartment.

            “Well, I’ll have to get your breakfast from the grocery store, but you’re going to have to wait until I drink my coffee,” I said to William.

            I went to the front door and opened it.  I was looking for my newspaper.  Instead I found an alien vista of some sort.  William continued to snuffle around my feet.  He looked up at the vista but quickly lost interest when he figured out that if wasn’t Star Trek.  I closed the door.

William and I went into the living room.  Standing there, looking quite confused was a Roman solider.  I smiled and pointed to the porch door.  

            “You want to go out there,” I said, which was silly, because he couldn’t understand what I was saying. 

            He looked at me, looked at the door, looked at me.  I walked over to the door and opened it for him.  Through the door I could only see my own porch, but I had a suspicion that it really lead to some part of the Roman Empire.  I motioned to the soldier that he should go through the door.  He seemed to understand and went through.  William tried to follow him, but I put out my foot to stop my bunny from ending up as Caesar’s dinner.  I closed the door and went to sit on the couch.  I turned on the television and leaned back to drink my coffee.  William jumped up on my lap, causing me to spill my coffee.  I sighed.

            “You know you have to stop chewing holes in the space – time continuum,” I said to William, who was licking up the spilt coffee, “And my jeans.”

 

At a Loss for Words

 

He looked sad;

He'd had a bad week;

I walked over to him

and gave him the biggest hug

that I could muster;

No words spoken;

No need for them-

He hugs me back;

Then,

we go our own ways;

I can hear a slight, quiet, "awwwww,"

as I walk away



Thanks Marc.

Here I Am

 

          My lover of six years left me.  He left me with “I love you, but I love her more.”  Could there be anything more horrific in its romantic implications than that?  I would have preferred to hear, “Get away from me, you psycho bitch.” Instead, he told me he loved me and then he left.  And I was left alone to contemplate how he wasn’t such a bad guy, to think about the times he’s nursed me back to health and the times we had laughed together, to dwell on the fact that he loved me.  He just loved her more.

          “Adonai,” I cried.

          And then my pet rabbit looked up at me and said, “Here I am.”

          So I went to the kitchen and returned with a carrot and I stroked his ears as he nibbled on his treat.

 

          Blessed are You, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the universe who gives us bunny rabbits.

 

          My boss went insane.  Technically, I suppose that’s not right.  It implies that at some earlier point, he had been sane.  In all the years I knew him, he had never been that.  Then one day he walked into the office and met with the other senior partner to tell him that he was closing down the firm and then left for the day.  It was December 30^th, so when we saw all the junior partners crowd into the office of the only sane senior partner and close the door, we thought they were talking about our raises or, maybe, considering giving us New Year’s Eve off.  Then came the memo announcing that we were all fired.  I wanted to call my lover and find support but I remembered that he wasn’t my lover anymore.  He was hers.  And she probably hadn’t gotten fired today.  Instead, I went home and threw myself onto my bed.

          “Adonai,” I yelled.

          And then I felt my cat rubbing up against me and she purred, “Here I am.”

          So I wiped my eyes and got her mouse-on-a-string and played with her until we were both tired and we fell asleep, curled up together.

 

          Blessed are You, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the universe who gives us kitty cats.

 

          I spent the day feeling sorry for myself.  Alone in Chicago, with no lover and no job.  Far from my family, with only the winter winds which come off the lake just to stab me.  I missed the Southern Januarys of youth and the hills where I spent them.  I was as flat and freezing as this place I lived.

          “Adonai,” I bellowed.

          And then the phone rang and from the other end of the line, my younger sister said, “Here I am.”

          So we talked about her life and mine. We talked about school and love and happiness.  And we promised to see each other soon.  No amount of distance should keep family apart.

 

          Blessed are You, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the universe who gives us baby sisters.

 

          It was Friday, so I set out candles and bread and wine.  And I said prayers and performed rituals 6000 years old.  In the morning, I went to synagogue.  There, members of the congregation greeted me with understanding in their eyes and voices.  They clapped me on the back and spoke kind words.  After the rabbi had brought around the Torah and I had kissed it, I went back to my seat.

          “Adonai,” I whispered.

          And then there was silence.

The Orange Store

 

                      

On the side of a gravel road,

it sits,

newly painted,

bright orange

and tilting towards the ground,

an old country grocery store;

The front is covered

with settled, grey gravel dust;

I was five

when my sister

first walked me

down the gravel road

to Middlebrook grocery,

The Orange Store;

But I grew into an adult

And the road grew into a major route;

The Orange Store

sits with old gravel dust

and a new exhaust film

in between a trailer park

and a shopping mall

and across from a mini-mart;

Old orange paint chips,

no longer bright,

lay among the gravel

that is only in the parking lot;

And yet I still walk there

 

 

Fuezle

 

            “Fuezle!” I cried out, in the half-frantic, half-asleep way of someone just awoken.  I had been awoken by my husband.  He was trying to be quiet.  Trying to be quiet is a pretty sure way to wake someone up.  I don’t know why.

            “It’s alright; I took care of it,” my husband assured me.

            “What?” I asked.  I had been sneezing all day and I couldn’t take it anymore and finally took an antihistamine.  One little pink pill and I was knocked out for hours.  My husband came home from work and saw me sleeping off the medicine.  He tried to be quiet and, consequently, woke me up from a very deep sleep.  I didn’t actually know any of this at the time, as my head was still wrapped around the little pink pill, leading me to ask my question.

            “Hey, you’re not sneezing,” my husband remarked.  No, no I wasn’t.  Which meant that I had taken an antihistamine.  Which meant I had been sleeping.  Which meant my husband had woken me up when he got home.  Suddenly, it all made so much sense.  I shook some more of the sleep out of my head and looked at my husband.

            “Was I saying something?”

            Look, nobody every said I was bright, even in my best moments.  And this was not one of my best moments.

            “You asked about Fuezle.  I said I took care of it.”

            “Oh, that’s good!  Oh, I’m so excited!  Aren’t you excited, Kitty?” I asked the bundle of fur on my legs.  The cat apparently had not been awoken by my husband coming in and she apparently was not all that excited. 

 

            I waited days for Fuezle.  I didn’t know what to do with myself.  I was so excited.  I couldn’t focus on my work.  I could barely sleep or eat.  I just bounced around the house, making ready for Fuezle.  My husband was just as excited, but he’s much more mellow than I.  He went to work everyday.  I would kiss him good-bye and then flutter around the house, a butterfly on its little butterfly errands.  The day would pass slowly, until finally I would hear the front door open.

            “Fuezle?” I would scream to my husband from whatever part of the house I was in.

            “Not today, Dear,” he would say.

            I would be disappointed and mope all evening, while my husband would tell me I couldn’t let all my emotions get wrapped up in this one thing.

            “It’s not a thing! Fuezle!”

            “Yes, Fuezle,” he would say, calmly. 

            But his act wasn’t working on me.  He was trying to keep busy, trying to distract himself from the anticipation of Fuezle.  He would go to work early, work hard and late, then he would come home and putter from project to project, never finishing any of them.  He started to build a cat post with a little bed on the top for Kitty to use.  He started to organize the front closet.  He started to put in a new kitchen sink.  As for me, I spent my days waiting and cleaning up the messes of his half finished projects.  I spent my evenings pacing and pouting.  I spent my nights dreaming of Fuezle.

 

            Finally, a couple of weeks after my husband had woken me from a sound sleep, I heard the front door open.  Even before I could call out what was now my traditional greeting, my husband yelled, “FUEZLE!”

            I came running, the cat at my heels.  The two of us lined up in front of my husband, who was holding a rather large box.  I smiled so hard my teeth hurt.  The three of us went to the dining room table.  My husband went to get scissors, while the cat and I waited.  Kitty kept nuzzling the box, marking her territory.

            “My box.  My Fuezle.  Mine.”

            When my husband returned, he cut open the box and pulled out the packing peanuts.  There it was.  It seemed like we had waited forever and now, there it was.  Right in the box.  Fuezle.  The cat nuzzled some more while my husband and I exchanged gazes.  Then the three of us stared into the box.  And all was good.  Because of Fuezle.

Air Conditioning

 

 

It was summer in Chicago,

Ninety-five degrees and almost the same percent of humidity;

And then the air conditioning went out

 

And then the air conditioning went out;

I really can’t establish that fact enough;

The Air Conditioning Went Out!

So, all the windows were open and the ceiling fans turned on;

Ceiling fans give me a headache

because I can see them out of the corner of my eye,

twirling and twirling and twirling and making me motion sick;

I shed most of my clothes while he went to the utility room;

I was putting ice cubes into all the animals’ water bowls,

when he came back, wet up to his ankles;

“I think something is wrong with the air conditioner,”

I would have smiled at all of the silliness of the scene,

if it wasn’t for the fact that it was getting hotter by the second

 

Now, the cat didn’t mind because cats like to be hot;

Freaks!

But bunny rabbits do not like it,

which might explain why I have two bunnies and only one cat;

I understand bunnies better;

I found a shady spot in the cross breeze and I sat there,

wetting down the bunnies’ ears with cool water;

While he and the cat rushed about, calling repair men,

who always said, “tomorrow,”

my charges and I fell into a sweat soaked sleep right there on the hallway floor

 

A loud noise woke me up and I left my furry friends to go to the window;

A deep green sky;

Red sky at night, sailor’s delight, Red sky in the morning…

Wait, that doesn’t apply here;

Green skies are for thunderstorms;

Lightning flashed and thunder clapped

and it was deliciously dark with cool, dare I say almost cold, winds;

I got my air conditioning