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can i still write a snapshot poem?
is it still in me?
the sky is grey, but high
earlier, there was a dull purple beneath
a glow
that made the sky seem higher
sparrows at the seed
and fighting in the vines
is it really the weaker sparrow
they gang up on?
maybe it's a bad sparrow
perhaps he molested a chick
or stole from a widow
they drive him from the garden
much loud peeping and violent
flutters
dead leaves crash to the ground
belle brings me her toy
attacks the scratching post
stops to stare at me
demanding -- what?
is there a poem, anywhere?
where where where?
i am here, at the keyboard
i am listening
but all i hear is the radio
the muse does not so much as murmur
not a whisper, not a nudge
belle crashes around the living room
colliding with furniture
attack mode
attacking a poem does not work
belle comes again
stares into the toy basket
i offer a catnip mouse
she pounces, but soon bored
comes back for something else
glares at me in disappointment
why do i not give her what she wants?
what does she want?
i try the rubber fish
no
the rattly ball
no
i suggest she choose for herself
no
perhaps the poem is in the aquarium
empty but for bubbles
awaiting a fresh fish
for the slow, mysterious kill
perhaps the poem is in the pillow
cranberry toile, two people on a mule
an obedient sheep
belle comes back to stare accusingly
the poem is in me!
is that what she says?
i offer a furry mouse with a feather tail
she explores it
briefly amused
but only briefly
the basket is nearly empty now
she noses it
her tail sways
no
a miniature blue tennis ball?
it bounces down the stairs
she follows!
she's back
she jumps on my legs
a questioning look
she goes to hide behind the ottoman
waiting for the next throw
Money can't buy happiness, true; but it can buy clothes and cosmetics and cars and convenience.
I have new clothes. Clothes without holes, or unraveling, or stains. Clothes that fit and look good on me. So many clothes I had to order thinner hangers. Never before have I had too many clothes for my closet.
I have jeans and cords in many colors. I have 'slacks'. I have shirts and tanks and cowl-necks and turtlenecks and boatneck T's. I have jackets and sweaters and coats and vests. I have brown loafers and black loafers and sandals and 'cute shoes'. And boots, nice, efficient boots. I have scarves and arm warmers, and dividers in the underwear drawer. In the mornings, I have to remind myself that it's ok to wear nice clothes, even if I don't plan to leave the house.
Last time I shopped for clothes -- nearly two decades ago -- it was difficult and debilitating. Now the makers seem to have noticed that there are lots of women my size out here, and I had much to choose from. Amazing.
I have makeup. Yes indeed. Expensive, easy-to-use makeup. And new glasses to see it with. My eyes don't hurt anymore.
And -- a new car. A cute little purple (Blackberry Pearl) Honda Fit. It sits up high, easy to get in and out of. It's an automatic, so my knee works without pain every day now. It has air conditioning. This is not a luxury car -- it was rated Best Budget Car by Consumer Reports last year -- but it seems like luxury to me. Automatic locks! Automatic windows! And -- this is a luxury -- remote start for cold mornings. Soon it will have a home in the garage (before & after pictures later.)
But it feels deep.
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