Being

Oblivious, that could be one way to describe the couple sitting in the front seat. Did they realize they had passengers? And for that matter, children. Talking about their upcoming vacation. It must have been the cloud of smoke that separated the individuals. Or age? No connection. No conversation. Two totally different worlds trapped inside the capsule. Destined to go somewhere. Possibly together, but probably not. Flowers line the drive. Names forgotten. Left to dissolve. Memories of love. Happiness. Life. Outstretched eyes scan the scene. Searching for answers. What does this all mean? Life after death? Or death after life? Two worlds separated by blooming orchids and singing doves.



All she wanted…

She doesn’t ask for much.
Good-morning would be nice.
Or a cup of dark coffee
with a splash of cream.

A steaming hot shower.
A massage
by an exfoliating loofah.
Removing dead secrets.

The morning news tells the same tale.
Chance of sun
or rain
or snow
but most definently wind.

Did you know
that your head weighs the same as a bowling ball?
No wonder she grows tired.
Tired before her day even begins.

Someone,
anyone
would be nice.

She is not picky.

All American Girl.
Business woman by day.
Exotic dancer by night.
Who knew?

Hidden behind a mask
of painted red toe nails
and uncertainties

She doesn’t want much.
A cup of tea would be nice.
Good-night would be even better.