CAMEO

A homeless woman

jags into a sandwich shop

trilling something faintly

beneath her breath.

Helps herself, like a duchess,

to a pitcher,

splashing the aqua into

the battered paper cup

she came in with.

Drinks like a moose.

Then turns toward the door, her voice

now a growing rumble. The tune,

familiar. Something circa 1980.

She swaggers across the café, slowly,

her bravado building.

The crescendo is imminent.

Every eye is on her.

Like a misplaced diva,

or a wayward Cyndi Lauper,

she, literally, exits ass-backwards,

singing, blaring:

If you're lost you can look - and you will find me

Time after time.

If you fall I will catch you – I will be waiting

Time after time.

THE GETTY GARDENS

Across the sycamore shadows

down the grassy slope

the red-shirted boy rolls

with his SpongeBob backpack in tow,

blue eyes, gapped-tooth grin

flashing all the way.

KILLIN’ CATS

I love the critters, really I do:

how they purr,

how they always land on their feet,

the way they lap up milk

with their coarse pink tongues,

with eyes closed.

But if it means a bigger life

by living the beefier questions,

then I’m in. Feed me 

the filet mignon, mademoiselle!

Yes, I 'll do the dirty deed.

Don me in a deerstalker.

Calabash my kisser.

Seduce me to deduce.

What say you Mr. Cumberbatch,

will you join the cabal,

for curiosity’s sake?

THE MARRIAGE

Let’s start from here

without any

in order tos

or allowances

empty of forgiveness.

No more detours, deal?

Let’s take the veil down

and call each other only

by the names we have given

ourselves.

Let’s aim for

essence,

understanding,

for a stewardship we can share

and be sure to banish

any lazy thoughts

of agreements.

Let’s learn to love the gift

and its wrapping.

Let’s let the leaves be the gospel

and the willow be the preacher.

Maybe then

we’ll realize

though we may never

truly know each other

that parting isn’t possible.

May our differences be

what marries us.