There was something
in the sound
of the TV
that was comforting.
It blared in
her ears but
never got through.
Much like her
life it was
but it wasn’t
necessarily being heard.
Heard, heard, heard
the clock ticked
by and by
but seemed stuck.
The pendulum had
broken years ago.
She must get
that fixed she
thought.
Summers in Connecticut
Playing Monopoly over cocktails
one summer evening you
drenched yourself in a jaded mood. I talked
about traveling to Seattle and you spoke
in onomatopoeia. Like a superman here
to save my life, you leapt buildings and brought me the moon
in a Poison song playing on the radio.
There is something about four tall oak trees. They are standing in a row across a field. Nothing in front or behind except a dirt road. They stand so perfectly side by side that it seems as if someone had planted them there. There is perfect distance between them. There are perfect trunks that expand up into the exquisite branch and leaf formations. Their size makes me wonder when their growth first began. I wish I could read about the person who thought to come to this place and create this miracle for me to view many years later. I sit under them writing some thoughts and it crosses my mind: What if the Earth put them here and man is really not as in charge as we think we are?
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