a poem in my pocket

(original version of quadrille edited for IPA reading)

saturday nights
Dad took us to
stock car races
we held our breath
at figure-8’s,
and cracked
sunflower seeds
till our lips numbed

vacation stop at
Indianapolis for
Indy racetrack tour:
our family waited at
famous light tower
for bus driver to
announce,“Gentlemen,
start your engines!”

brother collected
Hot Wheels, we
raced loop-de-loop
but Mom was relieved
when he did not
put spoiler on first car
or follow dream of
Nascar driving career

“The isolated Model T truck bears the weight and pride of a hundred years of rust, becoming prairie art and sentinel.” 

– quote and photo by Glenn Buttkus at South Sound Minimalist Photos

cousin billy jo’s family
left kansas in dust bowl;
packed worldly possessions
headed to californ-I-ay
to live under a palm tree
but truck broke down in dry
gulch county of colorado;
abandoned it right there
hiked to nearby town
where billy jo’s daddy
found work in a mine;
rusted dreams sift sand,
no palm tree for miles.

as grassy ditches burst

with sunshine of

dandelion smiles

while sweet lilacs coax

honey bees to hum

and wee apple tree happily blooms…

when spring sings everywhere,

then hope rides the air!

Linda challenges us with paint chip poetry…I used them all for the fun of it!

In breezy conversation
at the Indigo Cafe
our waiter recommends
the special for today:
tostados rancheritos
smothered with
habanero sauce
“I’ll try it,” I responded
not thinking of the cost.

My hot tongue pricks
with pins and needles
my gut it churns to mud
consciousness is quicksand
I fall to floor with thud
my friend now questions waiter
how four-star menu rates
We fear those rancheritos
may lead to pearly gates!