old neighborhood
the gaslight where
teens gathered
on summer nights
still there, still flickering

dinner with friends
at ari's greek restaurant
our laughter ignited
by the flames
of saganaki

a book about
organizing my life
returned to the library
I've paid enough dues
to buy it

static in the voice
of a landline phone
old farmstead
all my connections
are antiquated

after a fall
and an overturned chair
I suddenly don't care
if the picture
is crooked

the pods from last year
still attached
to the catalpa
I have yet to master 
the art of letting go

turning over the keys
to the mechanic
at the repair shop
the suggestion box 
held together with duct tape

this year on easter
and april fool's day
the up rising
of daffodils 
falling in the snow

if this is a dream...
a single strand of hair
carried by the wind
I never get to see
where it lands