come gently into my mind,
then get out your power broom
and sweep out all those cobwebs
bring me back to myself
away from the madness of daily life
and please, could you bring
chocolate and champagne?
It is no small thing,
this tiny shaft of July sunlight
traveling almost 90 million miles
on this hot day piercing
a window in a LoringPark bar
to dazzle dust motes,
gild this narrow lemon wedge
balanced on the edge of my glass,
blaze through ice in my drink,
outline every golden hair on my
hand as it moves up to parched lips.
Time of Your Life
I fall asleep scheduling tomorrow,
Project X due by yesterday, employee reviews, meetings, meetings,
pick up dry cleaning, plan a party,
call the children, get groceries.
My pocket calendar flips page after page
by itself, each hour penciled, no, inked in
no minutes left in any day,
not even any seconds.
Whatever happened to all the time I saved
using the express lane,
cooking minute rice
Tick toc, screw the clock.
I sleep late.