the last pile of leaves
Wednesday, February 8th, 2012Bits of autumn strewn
about the lawn, stragglers in
a too warm winter.
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Bits of autumn strewn
about the lawn, stragglers in
a too warm winter.
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She let the party
and the presents slip by for
time with friends and fam.
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Strange smells and noisy
motors, loud neighbors and cramped
closet. Time to flee.
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The battle is not
on the turf but on the air,
dueling commercials.
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Beings from the near
future swarmed the terminals
to download updates.
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The broken parties
pulled up their chairs to confide
tales of hiding out.
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They crawled out, grateful
to be alive and thinking
about death’s house call.
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Not so much bang and
whimper, but fading passion
and indifference.
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The caregiver wraps
booboos on scraped paws and sings
of quiet jungles.
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Some dream of escape,
others of the past, and some
see nothing asleep.
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The flock of fluffy
sheep crowded toward the streams of
grass on the bare plain.
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The sculpted tower
of sugar shatters into
bitter, sweet pieces.
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Somehow, the students
found laws of the universe
heretofore unknown.
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The soldiers trudge through
their ordered routine of long
days, boredom and shock.
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He would ring up the
clerk throughout the week, only
to find the line dead.
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