Facebook and Remembering

I remember a sleepover and an aborted attempt to get up early and scare up mischief

He couldn’t wake me up

I can picture the crazy drawings she made me

And can remember looking for a penny so

I could ask her for her thoughts

I can still see all of them playing pool in my basement

Singing along with …

Well I’d rather not say

I still have the lion hand puppet she gave me

And can clearly remember walking hand in hand

With her and my mom

To kindergarten

In the shadow of a solar eclipse

It’s all there

And much more

Waiting for a door opened

By a post about her son in the boy scouts

His broken hearted adventure through the South

His partner’s sister’s baby

Or a picture of her face

Waiting

And waiting

With more hope than ever before

For whatever that’s worth

From Here to There

She asks me if we can go somewhere on July 14th

It’s just down the street she says

Sounds fine

That’s my reply

A birthday party for a three year old

In two months

Does sound fine

Right now

While I sit in front of the computer

Writing poetry

Later

However

It might not

Specifically

On June 13^th

It may well sound like a horrible idea

Which is to be expected

Otherwise

It wouldn’t matter where you sit at a concert

Or where you position your speakers in your living room

And those are things that matter

Or at least they are

Once the music starts

Which is why

In the silence of a quiet Saturday night

In late April

I am vaguely positive

The Moment

If it was a fondly remembered second cousin

You’d seek her out

In a new suburb outside of Phoenix

Where she’d moved after college and

Settled into a four bedroom

Three bathroom

House

In a new development

Where the houses are so close together

That despite the utter lack of trees or

Anything besides houses that might cast shade

She can only see stars if one of her next door neighbors

Has the leading role in the big summer blockbuster and

She’ll only hear a tidbit she can share with the tabloids

In order to earn a little supplementary cash

If she turns off her air conditioner and opens a window and

Then

Unfortunately

As the two of you caught up on old times

In her sitting room

Despite the ten foot high ceilings

You’d be covered in sweat and

Neither it

Nor this

Would turn out to be a memorable one

America

If you think you can put your hands on it

Read it to me or

Run it up the flag pole

Then you don’t have it

If you think you can find it with a gun

Then I hope you never do

If you think it’s fallen down from above

Like manna from heaven

Fully formed and ready to sustain us

Then you haven’t been in the kitchen yet and

I doubt whether you’ll be of much help if you ever make it there

If you think it’s that warm feeling you get in your chest

When you sing one of those songs

I’d like you to be right

I’d like to be there with you

One voice among many

Singing

Screaming

Dancing

Hands in the air

Eyes closed

Held in the cacophany

For always and ever

But I know I’d only last an hour or so

Before I’d want to

Listen to something else or

Nothing at all

Before I’d want to open my eyes and

Look for it somewhere else

If you think it can be wrestled to the ground

Bestowed from above

Discovered only in the faces and beliefs of some people

Measured

Dissected

Purified or

Who knows what else

Then I know that you’re wrong

Because

You think the fact that everyone is looking for it

Means that it can be found

Waiting For What

Rain is falling on

A forgotten plastic egg

Blending with my breath

Another Blip

Tree rings

Ice Cores

Space viewed through a powerful telescope

In any of these

I would be but a fleck of dust

At best

Only a part of a very brief moment in time

And yet I get antsy in line at the grocery store

When the person with two shopping carts full or groceries

Won’t let me and my three items and two children go first

Which I suppose is why folks reject a connection to apes and

Embrace the cross and the ark

Otherwise

How can you explain being pissed over having to wait ten minutes to buy milk

I can’t

But I don’t try

Which is why

An hour or two ago

Standing over my son on this

His first night in a big boy bed

I told him to stay in there until morning

Until someone could come up

And thought about recording this moment in some way

So that he could look back one day

And appreciate our history

A Dirty Tree

The Birch in my backyard is a very dirty tree

It drops several waves of stuff every spring

Seeds

Fruit

Snakey things

I don’t really know what they all are

But they drop in and on everything

And in the fall there are the leaves

And for all the trouble I am caused

I don’t blame the wind

Or Aphids

Or el nino

I blame the tree

Which is why

I should do something when my daughter pushes my son into the wall

Or one of them throws food

Or jumps on the couch

I don’t want to be

A dirty tree

In our backyard

In our backyard

There’s really nowhere to hide

At least not for someone who stands over six feet tall

Has not the least bit of flexibility and

Is playing with a three year old and a five year old

Let’s just say I will not be fitting into a leaf bag anytime soon and

I wouldn’t want to hide too well anyway or

At least I wouldn’t

Not without a fence stopping the three year old

From running right out into the street and

Without a sudden dispensation of common sense

At least enough to stop either one from doing something silly while

I waited in the perfect hiding place for them to find me thus

I try to crouch behind the arborvitae and

Skillfully try to stay on the opposite side of the Maple’s trunk

Even going so far as to put my shirt in one place and

My body in another

Despite the fact that I myself don’t have enough common sense

 Not to simultaneously wonder

What it would be like

To be in some other yard

At some other time

Even though

There’s a giggling bush

Right at my feet

In our backyard

Why it's important to monitor television consumption

He is still awake

Not because

Clifford and blue baby were involved in a fire fight

Nor because

He was trying to foil the evil plans of the plush Easter Bunny

Given to us by a neighbor

Who has since succumbed to cancer

He is still awake

Because

He had to divide

His stuffed turtle from

The little reindeer with the magnet in his nose and

He wanted to tell me that

Divide is the same as separate

I could do without baobob trees

I’m pretty sure that the baobob tree at the Philadelphia zoo is fake and

I’m OK with that as

Long as the fake one is at the zoo and

Not in my backyard

A real baobob tree in my backyard

Would be like a dream come true

Now I’m not sure if it would be my dream but

I can certainly picture myself underneath it

Sitting criss-cross applesauce

Wearing something white and billowy and

Watching goats and kids straggle by in the dusty heat

As I wait for others to gather

So that we can socialize

Chew on something tropical and/or

Messy

Like a mango or ugali and

Make important decisions affecting us all

Democratically and

In good humor

Then

Whistling something other than I’m Walking on Sunshine but

Similarly intentioned

I would head home to my multi-generational household and

That’s all I’ve got

That’s as far as I can get

Because the baobob tree is in Philadelphia

About thirty minutes away and

People don’t live with wild animals anymore

At least not very often or

In zoos and

Anyway

There won’t be any smiles

Mangos

Sunshine or

Even ugali underneath it

Regardless of where it is

Even if it is in your backyard

Blocking the light from your flowerbeds and

Hovering threateningly over your house

Very fake yet

Very very real

Why I've given up on travel

It’s been one hundred years since

My great-grandparents

Were told that they wouldn’t be able to use their tickets

Too many half fares for such an in demand voyage

So they had to wait

Had to be on one of the first boats to pass over

After

I think there was a wreath laid

And then on they went

To a new life

In the new world

Only too aware that

They would not have had this close call

Had there been enough money

To go to Australia

And that had there not been so many kids

I think eleven

Well

They one way or the other

They would have been down under

Which is why

One hundred years later

With a little more discretionary spending but only two kids

I like to stay at home

Communication

Holding his hand on his ass and

Bent over like an old woman

He walks across the playground towards me

Not a word is needed

Everyone knows what this is

Both of us know what will happen next

What questions I will ask

What answers he will offer

What will happen when we go to the bathroom

About how much time will pass before he is again

Lurching about like a golem or a hunchback

Holding his hand over his ass

Tree Climbers

Wow

They are tall

Tree climbers could climb these trees

Daddy

Right

They are tall

But tree climbers could climb them

I think

Not long branches

Yes

Tree climbers could do it

Still

All the way up

They would have to be safe though

Yeah

I would be safe

If I was a tree climber

I would be safe

Yes

Not all tall

But some are

Tree climbers could climb all of them

Yeah

They are tall

Yeah

a singer of songs

They always come out of my head and

To a spot somewhere directly in front of my face

A few words at a time

Each word appearing

A second or so

Before I have to sing it

Providing me a chance to

Give them each their due

To put them in their proper position in the world or

 At least that’s how I hope it goes but

It doesn’t always

Not even if I manage to clear my head of

Everything else

Even fantasies of playing point guard for the Detroit Pistons

As I did tonight

Tonight I was channeling Leonard Cohen and Jeff Buckley

I was shooting for perfection

I wanted every word in the right place and

Every note as close to where it needed to be as I could place it and

After one do over

I was doing it

I flubbed a little when she tied him to a chair and

Then

As I got ready to say “I’ve been here before”

I couldn’t remember being there before

I stopped and there wasn’t a sound

Until she broke in with “baby I’ve been here” and

I was there again

They were all there again

In front of my face but

Then I couldn’t see the flag on the marble arch either

Not until she showed it to me and

Then it was there again and

So now so was she

With a voice of her own

Six years in the making

So far

A voice

Reminding me that

The songs in my head

Aren’t just in my head and

Aren’t the only ones

Being sung

One

word

at

a

time

Right

in

front

of

my

face

Summer Necessities

I rise off the seat
Water rushing and swirling
Sweat on it and me

My Own Two Minutes

For almost two minutes

I’m alone

Showering

With

Michelle Williams

Dame Judy Dench

Stan Van Gundy and

An activist Supreme Court

The Justices disappear with the water but

Dame Judy helps me dry off and

Exits the bathroom with me

Before she too vanishes

Without having finished dispensing the sage advice

I just know she is full of and

Would gladly share with me

If she weren’t

So rudely and abruptly pushed aside by Curious George

Electric Spring

The long yellow cord

Wrapped up and around and in

The smell of the grass

Gardening at Easter

Is there an Easter Bunny

Of course there is

Who else but a bunny

Would be delivering candy and toys to you in your house and

Everyone else’s house

How does he carry everything

Well

Carefully

Magically

Quickly

I don’t really know

Why would I know

I mean all I know is that stuff arrives and

You should be happy to get it

Anyway keep digging

We have a garden to plant and

Before we plant it

We have to get this rabbit fence up

Just A Second

I’m coming

I just have to finish this thought

Then I promise I’ll

Scoop your litter

Wipe your ass

Check your homework

Let you out of the garage

Take you to school

Make your lunch

Open your granola bar

Kiss your boo boo

Reply to your text

Pretend to eat the plastic food you have brought me

Listen to the song about the snail and the chocolate cake

Accept your hug

Look you in the eye and

See you smile

If you become a crocus in a hidden garden ...

Keep planting things

That’s what I do

It’s all I do

If there is a space

Then I want to plant something there

If whatever I plant doesn’t take

For whatever reason

I plant something else

I don’t just plant

I water

I fertilize

I trim tree branches  

I Pull weeds

I watch and

I love every part

Although the planting is my favorite

I don’t use gloves

I want to be able to look at my nails afterwards and

Know that I’ve done the dirty work and

Done it right and

Know that something is growing where

Only a moment before

There was nothing

So that is why

Five plus years in

I am still plangting

Three's A Crowd

Daffodils are

Three for ten dollars

At the grocery store

So

When I go shopping today

With our son

I can buy granola bars and

Trail mix for him and

His sister and

I can buy daffodils

For you and

Two other people