Ode to Ella Fitzkitten

your mew just a squeak
nearly too high to hear
with a human ear

scratch in your throat
big eyes up at me
questioning, trusting

thick, silky fur
shedding, shedding!
trademark all textiles

smelly, too--
always thought of that
song from the sitcom

i fed you well, though--
too well!
pleasantly plump
so, so snuggly

buried you in that spot
you rolled around

dry dirt
always entrenched
in your fur

box of rocks
bundle of love

9.21.11

hundido.

pienso que estas

hundido en
ella...

te escondes
adentro sus ojos
la sonrisa
sus dientes brillantes

y la risa--
las risas gigantes y maravillosas--
saltas adentro de tu boca
hasta la garganta

hasta no puedes
ver

tu eres la capitan,
pero ella es la
barca de vela

puedes aguantar
las cuerdas?  la rueda?

como navigas sin ver?

estas--puede ser--

hundido
en ella.

What I Learned in College

My winter breath mouths Morse code--
Orion's belt always a beacon--
a solitary walk back to the car.

I am the protagonist of my story.

The North Star--
pinnacle of the Big Dipper--

my northern star from Lake Minnetonka.

When I was little, I thought it was our star,
meant for Minnesota.

I've always loved the sound of
high heels on the linoleum.

Sunday mornings in the kitchen--
coffee with the funnies, and Mom
is dressed up for church.

A grown woman can wear high heels.

My teacher used to tell me,
(out in the hall, one hand on my shoulder)
"Don't roll your eyes at me--
You have an attitude problem, young lady."

Young women are prone to "attitude problems."
Add ten years--what would my teacher say?

This is what I have learned in college.

An authoritative strut--how to walk in high heels.
How to question--
how to tilt my head upward on a clear night.
How to wear an olive beret--style.

"Too talkative in class."
How to be alone.

May 2005

two-liners

generic as a stamp
go mail yourself



I'll leave you my Nag Champa.
By the time I get back, it should smell alright.



slide, pop--slopping sweet
sinks the seven ball, side pocket



you can bite--but only when it's
dark out



He shakes his ten-dollar bill in a leathered hand
studded with carats, impatient for the check.



They brought me my cat--dead and
frozen--and I thought they would kill me.



The church is like the bank--
It's not actually real.



May 2005

Sour Salt

"Hello, just the two of you?"
I slide the menus on the table and nearly spill the water.

"Yes--I'd like a margarita, please, on the rocks."
Someone looks like she needs a drink.

"Alright, and you, sir?"
Darts fly.  "Just give me a minute."

The blender whirrs, muffling their crossfire.
The limes are past their prime, but they won't notice.

"Here you go, ma'am.  Have you decided, sir?"
"I'll just have a margarita.  I don't think
we're going to order anything else."
"No," she says, "we'll just have drinks."

"Another round?"
His brow furrows.
"No, we'll take the check."

She shoves the ten dollar bill at me.
He fretfully pats for his wallet.  "Come on--"
"No, don't--"

He huffs with exaggeration.
I take the money from
her shaking hand.

I bus their table, and see them
arguing in front of the window.
The woman locks her eyes with me for a moment--
I was staring.  She starts the car.  I get back to work.

May 2005

red wine

I.
They served white wine
with the tuna loaf.
I told them,
"I prefer red wine."



II.
I fell in love when I was
hung over from
shitty red wine--
the kind in the box.



III.
She likes to sit
erectilely, she says.  You know,
straight back and all.  Good posture
shows class, and red wine.


May 2005

Viking State Bank

bad bank news
a dark cloud settles
over my furrowed brow

thinkmoneyworry

if thirty is the new twenty
no wonder i feel old

responsibility
haunts my closet
absent skeleton

in the hole like
my bank account
and these bastards
at Viking State.

badcreditstinkingstomach

"We are here to help," says the brochure.
"Maybe you own your own car?" Right.
"Privileged Status," says the brochure.

Do young hands hold
dirty dollars?

Does age warrant respect
like an automatic teller spits cash?

"I'm sorry, you just don't have
any real collateral."

I scorn your
professional attitude,
your smug perma-smile.

"Must be nice to have
bankers' hours, huh?"

May 2005