Inspired? You tell me.

Weather Bug Shows Local School
or
Nostalgia via Broadband Connection (a poem in five minutes time)



The camera angle (live shot)
shows eight rectangles of green green tennis court
red clay running track oval circling
and tan institutional building
with
no
windows
no
wasteful daydreams outside while the teacher talks
here.

No
children running or
planning lunch dates
or (even) dodging bullets. (Today)

Of course,
it being
winter break (Christmas holidays being the
unpolitically correct thing to call it
these
days)

one would expect emptiness...
Wouldn’t one?

But what empties a school yard
faster
these
days?

Disgruntled child in a long black trench coat
or the bell ringing afternoon classes over?
It’s probably a toss up.

And wouldn’t one get a (live shot)
camera angle of that on one’s
weather program too?

Dear old golden rule days?

Wasn't there plenty of empty space before?
But at least then a young poet girl with dreamy brown eyes
could stare out the window at pollen dazed bees
ignoring the mathboard equations
for a minute or two.


Kaw Dec 05

*************************

et aussi:
I sneak away a guilty moment
to scrawl useless lines of poetry

babies squeal and push buttons
to play Pop Goes the Weasel
in tinny electronics
in the other room (again)

What is the point, anyway?
Some sanity, some trace of my former self
the one who wore fuschia ribbons laced through
shoelace holes on shiny black patent leather manshoes,
and listened to the Cure loud on a walkman
destined to cause hearing loss one day?

Poet. Mommy. Not words destined to be very often congruent.
Daddy washes dishes and grandma comments on various cute baby games.

Mommy sneaks away to have three minutes stolen time.

Enough? We’ll see.

Kaw Dec 05