Today I strung and snapped some beans
and didn’t drop a one.
I threw in tiny red-skinned taters
and boiled ‘em ‘till they’s done.
And then I sliced a mater ripe
and ate a piece or two.
The cukes were next – bring on the salt! –
‘cause nothing else will do.
High on the hog! They cheered and cried
as I dished up their bowls.
For nothing beats a garden meal,
when memory’s the goal.
The girls stand there like a club I’m not allowed to join
because I started life with the wrong invitation.
Though I am friendly with every one of them, the sentiment
is universal: there’s no further place for me to find here.
Desires have been discerned, boundaries drawn in bold,
barriers that are not mine to challenge because I will lose,
but I take care that any bitterness doesn’t get tasted by them.
One can be resenting without being resentful of anyone.
***
Just like how I don’t resent the missionaries and their invitation
Have you met out Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?
A freshman in college, detached from familiar youth groups,
I was in freefall and they provided to me a place to land.
They were only doing what they thought was best
and it worked, for a time. Until it went bad.
I caught a glimpse of the outside world. Saw
my best years wasted in suits and Sacrament Meetings
while peers traveled the world and built careers
and partied until the morning came around again.
When I eventually got out
I was so far behind.
I was still picking up the pieces
while surrounded by weddings.
***
Met a girl around that time–she came on to me at the bar,
bought a couple drinks then surprised me a kiss
then another and another until I let her take me home,
but casual sex was never what I envisioned for myself.
I stared at her ceiling thinking I don’t want this while below
she did her best with my flaccidly wrong invitation.
My one one-night-stand
and I wasn’t even up for it.
I wanted the happiness
that kept blossoming around me.
***
Finally thought I had it last year
when conversation and occasional flirting
evolved unexpected with an invitation to the fair-
she wanted me to meet her kids.
What else
was I supposed
to think about that?
I said after I’d like to take her to dinner,
she said I only invited you as a friend.
***
Can you blame me for being little gunshy with dating?
For the hitch in my voice when it’s time to bare a heart?
The people were always wrong
or I was wrong for the people
so at some point, you just give up
and in that emptiness, for me, an envy thrives
for those blessed with themselves,
for those who have found a space in other people.
These girls don’t do anything wrong; they just make me
a little more aware of what’s still missing
and I can hold myself accountable to myself.
It’s not my place to impede on anyone’s joy.
I’m not going to say a thing
about last night,
not a single thing
about how you staggered in,
searching your pockets
for your cell phone,
reeking of cigar smoke
and burping gin.
I’m not going to say a thing
about how this is the third time
this month you promised
we would do something
together on a Saturday night
–a movie, a ball game, dinner out–
only to find myself alone all day
waiting, waiting,
with my hair washed
and my nails done,
wearing the pink blouse
and the tiny seashell necklace
you bought me in Florida
on our one-and-only vacation.
I’m not going to say a thing
about your trip to Lowe’s
that ended in a bar
for the third time this month.
I’m not going to say a single thing.
generate a poem
a haiku
the haiku must have 3 layers of meaning
a physical
a metaphorical
and a spiritual
the first line must include
a seasonal reference
the theme is nature
specifically not robots
do not mention robots
do not mention AI
do not sound like AI
do not use emdashes
oh wait
emdashes are cool in haiku
have been long before you
use one emdash
the haiku must be able
to be interpreted 3 ways
by 3 people
you get 17 syllables
go
The store put out Christmas products today:
A handful of cardinal-and-holly dishes
Horses with sleighbells
And the ornaments people have been asking for since March.
Many of these people will never be back
So I understand wanting to take a memory with them
But why a memory you can only touch for one month of the year?
(Two or three if you have a broader idea of the Christmas season than I do)
Is that season exceptionally suitable for digging up forgotten things?
Or perhaps these customers do want to remember all year round
And they simply have the heart for celebration twelve months of the year
Breaking free of tradition to believe
That joy is not just for the holidays.
I managed one good thing today,
Lemongrass s i
p l
l a g
e
makes porch-
adjacent t
n
o u
f
a
i
n
s
by gold pine b o
x
e s
I spill my guts to a wine-drunk evening. Now that’s
a party. The table is set.
The stars are introducing themselves.
The stars are taking off
their coats. I am trying to remember
the difference between objects—
did the cat or the bag
let out? And which am I to you
tonight: setup or punchline or laugh
track. If I tell you my secrets
will you turn them loose?
Loosen your tongue, darling, lose
the attitude. We haven’t got all night.
The music is dead
already; the guests are tired of dancing.
I am tired of holding you
in. Nausea is a hell
of a drug, a glass at the edge of the bar.
Potential without motion. We stand at the railing
waiting to be pushed.
