Drum Circle

Drum circle

Fingers, thumb, wrist

percussing,

tap, tick, twist

Against the steering wheel

Feelin’ Alright? -

I wonder,

if you’ll spot me another time as I backhand spring,

off the spine of this couch?

catch me if,

I miscalculate time, distance and mass

Break on through –

to the other side,

of double doors and strobe lights,

bumping, breaking

me and Brent Cisneros

It’s my Prerogative -

not to dance with you that night,

black Fedora, red cotton skirt,

fitted long sleeved shirt and gold ring spandex belt

showing up at my 7^th grade dance,

Helpless –

waiting, thumping foot

against the floor

buckets and chopsticks

serve a purpose in this circle

of men at a station,

Teach your Children –

to sway and move,

you did this indeed,

we heard you and mom,

and Richard Simmons

trying to be

in sync with one another

Beat It –

twirl, spin and dip me,

play that song again and again

Friday night videos,

four heads, four pillows

four-minute dramas

don’t ever end

Our house –

made of stucco on a corner,

banana bike riding around the block,

lawn mower stirring,

trimming cypress and passion flowers

spinning round offs,

into backhand springs

Peaceful Easy Feeling –

at the beach,

asleep on warm sand

two girls tousled by turbulent water,

pimples forecasting imminent separation

You’ve got a friend –

in a shop, behind a counter

hitting keys,

tap, tap, tap,

eating burritos

towers of boxes ordered by brand

kites hover above neon displays,

In your eyes –

fear is not something,

to show children

voice steady, grip solid, ATM card intact

driving around a lake,

sulfurous fish

trying to dessicate,

not fast enough.

Love her madly-

you did,

lifting her up when she fell down,

on the ground that day

quivering on the floor

shades pulled blocking light,

Cocaine –

up and down stairs,

Christmas presents,

bicycles, playset, Barbie dream house, Barbie pool

the best toy I ever had,

to fill up again and again,

Jump –

might as well,

to this rhythm,

delicate but there,

always in the background

speeds up at times,

Running on Faith –

for something real,

something pure

purpose,

goodness,

love,

truth,

gratitude,

Stairway to heaven-

I regret not having

a drum circle for you,

in remembrance the day

you went away

but you know it’s there and always,

tapping thumbs, fingers, twisting wrists

autorhythmic spontaneous contractions,

ARE,

for you…

Who Would Win?

Who Would Win?

Slug OR Salamander?

Stalky, studded Salamander

With those sinewy arms,

Smearing then stemming,

Like the Free Solo you are,

Against the rock on a horizontal slab

Steady in your scamper to safety

***

Soapy, sodden Slug

Soggy sock,

Spewing a green snotty substance,

Stuck between my thumb and forefinger

Slime or be slimed is your motto,

I would squeeze you HARD if I was six

***

Salamander, sandwiched between my fingers,

Secreting tetrodotoxin from your superhero skin,

Sneaky trick if I say so myself!

Good thing mom told me to stop sucking you,

When she did.

***

Slug, the banana disguise and your cool cat Santa Cruz Sponsorship,

Does not fool me one bit!

I am onto you.

Slimey all over,

My tongue is numb just thinking about you,

Aestivating all over – bubbly and soiled,

But withstanding the dryspell, you can!

Eyestalks giving me the heeby jeebys,

Stop staring at me like that! Right now!

I mean it! Stop it!

Sensing all my sudden movements,

If I tear one of those tentacles off,

You’ll just grow another,

Then you’ll go off and stick your penis into another slug’s penis,

And secrete seventy-five silky eggs,

Stowaways for another season.

I have to say,

I am jealous of your radula,

I want rows and rows of microscopic teeth to scare,

Away varmints and flesh-eating bacteria

Still, not so sure about your two-hour mating ritual,

And grand finale is even more questionable.

***

Slug or Salamander?

Still, not sure?

Well, how about a race to solve this conundrum for good?

Slide up to the starting line,

On your marks,

Get set! Go!

Sedated and stolid,

Slug slinks ahead,

Stooped by something,

Salamander scoots back,

Sanguine slinky slug slips and slides forth,

Static Salamander grips rock,

Scooting, scooting slug sleeks ahead

Salamander looks up and sets his mind on the prize,

Smearing and stemming,

Secure in skill and stature,

Salamander has strides,

Slug inches by,

Together they make it,

To the other side,

Just before my SNEAKER

Stomps them Bye, Bye!

Solo

Solo

I still pile up towels over the closet door,

after every shower

I still rush to work,

with two minutes to spare

I still procrastinate by making coffee,

toasting bread and decorating my yogurt

I still butt heads with my cat,

who sits on my work

I still plug away at the emails,

endless grading and lesson plans

I still check my text messages, work email, personal email, Facebook, LinkedIn and then the News,

IF I am that bored

I still painstakingly wash,

one casserole dish at a time from my refrigerator

I still leave my classroom,

after little baskets and lamps are tucked away

I still pack my lunch,

with warm pesto pasta and a clementine orange

I still take funny risks,

that are not a big deal to most people

I still take off in the afternoon,

to run around in circles outside my door

I still avoid the gunk in my sink,

and take off to the gym instead

I still play that folk electronica,

anticipating the songs I know best

Will I still?

I wonder,

When they leave me for good?

Or will I transcend motherhood into,

another lifeform?

Solohood,

will I automatically start,

seeing a room full of buddies at Café Chiave,

to swing, knit and clap hands with?

For now,

motherhood is a land of

bok, bok, boking

Still,

The chirp from the redwing blackbird,

is not that different from,

the chattering and tackling,

of little boys,

who have used up all of their screentime for the day.

I still like to feel the constant buzzing

even when the last tank car

has drifted far away,

And, I can finally cross the track.