Heading for the hills

Okay, not what most people consider hills, but Manhattan really is a tad hilly. This afternoon, in my Escape from Hip Hop Hell (or Ms. Practically 14’s Birthday Party, whichever name you prefer for the thing from which I am escaping), I shall visit the Famine Memorial downtown, then be a leisurely bus riding sort of New Yorker and run an errand for E. Now I must get to work on this dining area as I promised Ms. Practically 14 (her actual birthday is this coming Tuesday) that I would do this. Some scribblings. Have a lovely day.

Ripples
gentle and infrequent
a question might singe a small area
near my head

A glance
only now and then
no response or perhaps
just at a frequency I could not detect

I’ll hold the door
sweep my cape in an arc of understanding
be a wall of defense
against puddles and confusion

Such unfitting idylls
crinoline scratches and pricks
surrendering competence
letting those who never cared have their way

Ripples
return on a tide
washing me away
inexorably

~~~~~~~~~~

Simplicity stream

Stillness
craving one small flame
shining on a simple sea
belly dancing in rhythm with air’s pace
sensuous revealing teasing
so tame to my eyes
I forget danger
discount any possibility of
getting burned

Clear it all away again
but for a small collection
to fill a bag
satchel of who and what
ingredients of why
never saw it coming
dreaming of a genie flame
showing all I need to see
before velvet curtains fall