Softball Games

Things happen in moments, slippery fragments

Where the lines are blurred, and there is no end

It happened so with you

Just a moment in the right space, and suddenly there were two sea-foam orbs of marble staring up at me

I never saw it coming

You like to dance around hello, you only say it with your body

A fragile dance in the dirt because I scare you

There’s a nod in my direction, a baseball cap covering sandy gold hair

I don’t mind if you come a little closer

March 4th

Happy Birthday ;)

The Meeting

Honesty was not something I wanted

Spending too much time alone

The silence of echoes like a dull ringing

Maybe if it were this,

The timeless opening of a rift into eternity

Words trailing pavement, the sound a screeching halt

Come out of that head!

The voices are rising to the dome

Sweat beads a speckled forehead

Listen to me

When all she was doing was opening a chasm

California Weather

I think this state may be bi-polar

A week ago, it was 80 degrees

Today, it is raining

I woke up to it, the purple gray of possibility

Perfect weather for the page

And stayed inside to write, the words came easier

Almost two full pages

An accomplishment I think, for someone so critical

Sheets of rain cover all the palm trees, make them look like pines

…or so I imagine

In California, anything is possible


If I linger too long, the paint smell will make me high

I wonder how he can stand being here

But I know he is lost in the art

The oily surfaces of destroyed canvases line the garage

This is his sanctuary

Somewhere, I think, where the medicine cannot penetrate

When I was little he came in every night with paint on his hands

He had to wash them in the bathroom sink before dinner, and I watched the water change colors

Just a little girl with pigtails and bows

Who did not understand what would come later

A Good Day

My father takes his coffee black with sugar (just a little bit).

He wakes up wordlessly and looks expectantly at mom, “Coffee?”

I don’t understand it when she says to make him a sandwich, I don’t want to

He used to carry me on his back - at Disneyland - and bought me a Cinderella piggy bank, indulging the princess.

In pre-school, he walked from his building over to mine with a sack lunch. He was late, but brought us drinks to share.

My father has a beard of salt and pepper. A better look for him I think.

He breathes heavier when he walks now, his words are sharper. They can slice better than a knife.

But some days - the bright days - we are graced with “Good morning my sweeties.”

"Good morning Daddy."

This will be a good day


Being Home

I stare into a million miles of endless sunlight

It is seventy-three degrees here, the rumors are true

You can wear shorts on Christmas in California

In the morning I am met with the cheerful call of birds outside, and the smell of simmering coffee downstairs

My mother makes a full pot now that I am home

Tonight, my sister goes out to a party in a white sweater and red lipstick

I sit in the front seat on the passenger side, and listen to her laugh with the boy in the backseat

His face is full of craters, I think to myself as I turn around to introduce myself

He smiles at me, and I know he is in love with my sister

I wonder to myself if I should be like her

If I should go to parties, curl my hair, and wear brightness on my lips

No, I think. On Friday nights I would rather be home with movies and pizza

When I wake up in the morning, I check the weather on my phone

It is seventy degrees outside, the rumors are true

You can wear shorts on Christmas in California

The Fellowship

I met the people who changed my life

From bleak, isolated silence…

Sprang light, echoes and laughter

The people that know me

Quirks, schedules and agendas

And still love me

There was a moment of panic,

Fear, that I would never meet a family like them

But here they are. All of them.

Helen: Glasses and dimpled smiles. My light and joy

Hannah: Comfort and soothing. My calm in the storm

Michelle: Tender and loving. My breath of fresh air

Avery: Adventurous and romantic. My eyes into the spiritual

Mitchell: Ethereal and bright. My cloud that is continuously moving

To you all, I bid goodbye, only for awhile

For we will meet again

Six Bottles of Cream Soda

Six bottles of cream soda sat outside my room this morning,

waiting for me.

Their happy gaze met mine and seemed to say, “Good morning love, it’s going to be a good day.” 

And a good day it was 

Mr. Tall Boy

You hardly ever giggle, I’ve noticed

No, you hardly ever laugh or smile

But you are interestingly beautiful

A beauty I cannot, nor would I dare touch

For you are so pure and clean

Consisting of neat, straight lines

Purpose and determination in your eyes

What would it take, I wonder, to get to know you? 

What makes you melancholy, lonely and afraid?

What makes you ecstatic, honorable and free?

I do not think our paths will ever cross, no

I doubt we’ll ever meet

But if you are out there, or if you ever read this

Know that the girl in 316D on the third floor of the Administration Building thinks you’re beautiful

And she wishes she could know you