LJI Exhibit A, Week 5: Zen and the Art of Errands
This is my entry this week for the Exhibit A competition of therealljidol. I invite you to read and vote for the many fine entries. This week's topic is "This is your brain..."
Golden sun in my rear-view mirror and traffic cones on the sidewalk
Thoughts on an afternoon run to make photocopies at Kinkos
1.
Teens bubbling by, curly-haired, coats open.
A burly guy slips into his Jeep, a tight fit. A bright
late winter sun pours
onto the orange-
vested road workers, children
carrying backpacks --
a little girl in bright pink parka reaches
her porch (the storm door flashes). Bare
trees, scraggly and strong, surround
the covered community pool I hope
to dip into six months hence.
Two men on a billboard share a Coors
before a flat mountain peak.
"Garage Sale" brags the unofficial store
opened in the empty
garage next to the car wash --
chairs tables and couches line the driveway. "Future Home
of Choices" a billboard proclaims.
A boy in oversized coat hops, arms out,
jumping monster boy -- a schoolbus pauses
at the intersection to let off kids in oversized
sweatshirts. "Days like this keep us warm
keep us warm love will keep us warm,"
sings the Polyphonic Spree.
Starlings swarm the frozen grass, pecking the unseen;
my toddler snoozes in his car seat --
little helper, mine.
Green and orange balloons bob over
lazy sunny cars. "In the middle of the afternoon
you can come around and fly fly fly,"
sings the Polyphonic Spree.
Feels so good getting out
after three sequestered days
of snot and coughing
for the first time
in weeks the sky is not gray
the sky is bright --
it is day.
2.
Is that snow? "My daughter
Is in the U.S. Navy," a bumper sticker says.
My thumb has dried out
and cracked
like a major paper cut. What
are the words to that song I used
to know? I hope
the meat is defrosted.
How could it take so long
to make
copies? Back in the day,
blue-shirted employees would greet you
at the counter
and make them for you. Now
they strand us
with one working
copier and our debit cards,
subtracting the copies off
one by one.
That rubber band around my wrist
was supposed to remind me
of something. Is the flag
at half-mast at AAA
or was somebody just
lazy today? "I want to hold
your hand I want
to hold your hand," say the Beatles.
A boy on a billboard is in love
with a butterfly. Late afternoon
sun glows gold on bare
branches as we return home, amidst
rush hour frenzy. "But I don't care too much
for money cuz money can't
buy me love." What was it
my husband told me
about making my own
ground beef? I'm supposed to
pulse the food processor? Pulse
pulse ... pulse.
