In Which I Miss My Dog But Can't Take Her With Me On Vacation

My house is empty, save for all my stuff;

The animating spirit, she has left.

Just for a week, but that seems long enough,

I sit here at my table; I'm bereft.

My bare feet stretch out, feeling for her fur

But Molly dog is nowhere to be found.

I know she misses me as I miss her,

But has a lot of fun where she is bound.

It's Grandpa Camp! Lord, how she loves my dad

(My mother, too; her little dog less so),

His yard, his truck, and also, yes, his bad,

Bad habit, tossing scraps from dinner. No!

He tells her when she begs, and yet somehow

She gets her way. Wish she were here right now!

Grocery, Ah Me

Eye contact we must shun by any means;

The grocery store is certainly no place

For human moments as we shop for beans

And milk and fruit and dog food. Let no face

Make an appearance in our field of view!

So seems the modus of my fellow man

As we peruse the aisles, as we look through

The wares from which to choose. Was this the plan?

That we lapse into middle-distance stares,

Our eyes glazed over; people now no more

Than obstacles to navigate? Who cares

That human life teems by the score

And still there's loneliness. At last I meet

One pair of eyes; a smoker on the street.

In Which I, Too, Feel I Am Getting Older

A party girl I've never really been.
I'll go out now and then to see what's new,
But generally I'm the type who's seen
Off in the corner, a good friend or two,
Sometimes a small crowd, list'ning to my tales
And telling theirs. But last night found me out
In noise among the hip-hop crowd. Details
Don't matter overly. We had to shout
To be heard, and the tunes were all the same,
Some chanting, thumping bass, an endless drone.
These days, to me, what music's worth the name
Needs more than just a heartbeat. On my own
I pine for something somewhat more complex
That makes imagination stretch and flex.