Signs

How do you know if change

is good, is right, is coming? 

If footprints on the path 

find a fork or a cross

and take it, a shift occurs. 

And if this shift causes 

warmth from the sun's rays 

to last longer

the moon to shine brighter

and be no wind 

pressed against your chest 

but lovingly at your back

it may be a sign. 

If flowers begin to bloom 

at your feet

and up ahead there is a clearing

a vast green clearing

and you run

to feel the cool grass 

under your feet

It's definitely a sign.

Book Sale Ritual

She goes there for the poetry books

standing in the same aisle every time. 

Philosophy and psychology share the 

aisle but it's fine so long as she can dig 

on her side, unencumbered. It takes time 

to scour the stack and peruse samples 

from prospective picks. She's not much 

of an anthology girl, as she likes to get to

know a poet. Some books have yellowed 

pages, dusty covers, and a musky scent 

that comes from years of sitting on wooden 

shelves. Each has different paper, ink, fonts, 

words; everything crafty metaphors and 

inanimate personification needs. Over the

loudspeaker, We will be closing in thirty minutes. 

She checks her stack of books piled near as 

she thumbs their pages, approving the selections. 

She thinks to herself, maybe just one more.

The Girl in the Price Chopper Plaza

She's standing against the wall

as I come walking out.

Worn clothes and shoes, tired,

looking in need of a fix maybe

or is it food, I can't tell which

as thin as she is. I only had a few dimes 

and pennies in my purse, and in 

her soft, careful voice, she said

That's okay, it's better than nothing.

I reached down into my pockets 

hoping I had more, and I think 

I was more disappointed I didn't.

She smiled, I walked away, but

I remember her from the winter 

when the parking lot was full of snow 

and slush and she walked about it 

to stay warm as she asked for change. 

That day I had a whole dollar to give her. 

This New Society We're In

I think we are far more expressive than ever

and when I say "we" I mean the human race. 

When, before in history, have you seen people 

so responsive, emotive, liking things, loving things, 

laughing uncontrollably or even shedding a tear?

In the verbal world, some barely speak, let alone 

offer a good suggestive nod. The silence about 

ordinary things, once very normal. No one shared, 

no one listened. Now the buffet is jammed packed 

and you, me, everyone, keeps going back for more. 

We've become insatiable in our look into others' lives. 

Once, news got around by telling one person and 

then they would tell another person, and so on. 

Look how modern expediency has shared vacation 

photos, recaps of date night, and school achievements 

of our best and brightest in one click. When have you 

ever received so many birthday wishes? We know 
each other better today than ever before in human history.

Listening

She hates the messages

that imply "I am only your friend

if I can tell you all my ailments

and I won't listen to yours."

She says, one more text to ask 

how I am so she can be sicker, 

more tired, have more problems, 

and I will tell her, I swear I will tell her.

I say, do you know you be-friended

your mother? She laughs and changes 

the subject. After that, we talk about 

her new job and how she is coping with 

adjusting to very normal surroundings. 

She talks about her leg that seemingly 

lost muscle strength, and then decided 

in the same breath, "it must be from the 

antibiotic I'm taking for my infection."

Then more on the infection, ending

with what groceries she will buy.

I had my turn, began to tell her about 

my teenage daughter's emotional 

reaction to social injustice in school. 

It was very, very quiet on the other end. 

Scary

Even with all the ghosts 

and presumed apparitions 

even with those returning from the dead 

to eat the flesh from our bones.

Even with the possibility of a 

modern-day Jack the Ripper

or even just going to the movies 

nowadays, real scary stuff is 

closer than you think. 

It's so close, with you all the time

never leaves, like gum on your shoe

and it's filled with the scariest stuff 

imaginable. You can't empty it out 

like stinky garbage or throw it away

like old shoes you don't want anymore.

It knows how to conjure ideas, 

thoughts, pictures, all of them not real

and if you're not careful, vigilant 

in your own fiction

you might think they are. 

The Call

Once, we sat by the phone

never leaving its side

afraid to go out, it might be missed.

Now we take it with us 

everywhere 

but we're still as neurotic 

raising the ring tone 

coupling it with vibration

pulling it out of our pocket 

in between breaths

to see if it happened yet

anticipating it to happen

simultaneously 

but of course we know 

a watched pot's water never boils

and despite it being so at the ready

we somehow miss it

and all that convenience, 

for what? Are you serious

you forgot to set up voicemail?

Maybe some calls are never 

meant to be answered.