Also available at Avol's and A Room of One's Own bookstores just off State St. E-mail Mick at firstname.lastname@example.org
My Aunt Carrie
She stood tall
at age ninety-six
even though her step was weak.
She smiled, complained of nothing
talking of sweet cherry pie.
even though she tasted much sour milk
She wore bright flowers
bleeding with reds and greens
even though most were color blind.
She spoke of political folly
with joy and delight
even though rivers were filled with carp.
She listened, not always understanding.
muddled words from mud puddles.
She lived the ‘X-files,’ ran the marathon, visited with apes
Never batting an eye at the snake,
deciding instead to bake some bread
kneading the small ball with white flour,
letting it rise, beating it down;
letting it rise again.
shaping it for the pan
and the hot oven.
waiting for the golden top
and the warm smell
that made us all feel well
in the town of hell
in the town of Zell.
Riding High With You
When I look at you,
I see the skies clear.
A sun bursts forth,
All dark clouds disappear.
When I gaze into your eyes,
That’s when I want to dance,
And cry tears of joy,
Then go into a timeless trance.
When you smile at me,
The budding lilies open up,
The blue jays start to sing;
And I am whining like a pup.
The way you swing your rack around,
Stopping swiftly on a dime.
A dance of headlights beaming bright.
I shall not forget with time.
The speed you so gracefully employ
when you tie me down
makes me want to rock and roll.
If only just downtown.
I want to ride with you, I do,
every chance I get.
‘til tides are forever high,
‘til rainbows stream from jets.