Poems
Poems of Antiquity
Short stories
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I am standing in the kitchen, smiling
stirring the Lipton Spanish Rice
which is almost ready to eat.
I have finished a V-8,
which I rinsed out first
before tossing it into the recycling container
The rice is off the burner now
cooling, and I have put the stirring spoon
in the sink where it belongs.
Earlier today as the snow melted
on the warm Colorado streets,
I thought, "My heart is a snowstorm,"
But now, later, my lips tingling
I would disagree with my prior self.
"You are very lucky to be you," I almost chide.
I held my tongue and smiled.
The Dave Brubeck Quartet is giving
a fine impression of Japan on the record player.
The Spanish Rice is cooling on the stove.
Billy Collins' book of poetry lies
inert on the counter, his words
slowly being digested. Am I stoned?
I don't think so. There are just times
when I love my cat and my life
and my lady luck and my everything.
Right now I am pouring the rice
smelling of cumin or paprika
into my favorite large green bowl.
It's still hot but I take two bites
and now it will cool in the bowl as I
sit and listen to jazz and think about girls...
and smile.