Lost Roadtrip
“Roadtrip”
When the red wheel rolled west
we were dripping and feverish
like buds on a stalk once tied to the brown
we clicked into gear and grabbed the road
like birds scouting on the sea for land.
When faraway suns came close
we were straddled tight and still moving
we shuffled into the untethered distance
like the deer learning to speed across plains.
When the sky brought red roses from the east
we were slipping from wind to the breeze
hurtling slow like clouds forgotten
curled fists on the steering wheel
waiting for the distance to catch us.
Cherie the Brave
“Cherie works from home and lives on the coast. She has many cats. She works for the same hospital that I do and does Remote Medical Coding and also audits. She is a very patient and kind person and very laid back.She is well liked by others.”
Cherie’s paperwork
Promptly sails through
the hundred hospital-hoops
that we daily jump through.
And we type and question
the client’s sanity- with dignity.
With every claim comes Cherie,
Ready to battle every day
Against any form or foe
So all is reimbursed
Until their purse bursts.
Some deadlines drift and push,
But Cherie, steadfastly
Defeats them with a smile
And her army of cats,
walking on her keyboard in victory.
Milonga Man
“Granada for a tango festival. I was walking to the bathroom when this young hip black man caught my eye. He was siting in the lobby and looked up at me as I passed him. For some reason he caught my eye…what can I say. Then i decided I was going to ask someone I would never normally ask to dance. Just for shits and giggles (this is my strategy for keeping myself entertained here at the Spanish Milongas) So I went up to him, and started speaking to him in Spanish and he said, oh no, no comprendo. And I knew right away that he spoke English. Then I found out he was from new york and some tap dancer. I tried to dance with him and found that he must be a very good tap dancer for he had very strong muscles in his arms! Maybe you can write a poem about it.”
When I dance in the milonga,
I save my steps for special men,
the tango delicacies.
Some milongueros test me
with a deep rhythm of power
rigid moves, ancient grasping.
The young ones dance lightly
watching my dress flutter
swaying and sinking into beats.
During the cortina break,
a man met me with his eyes.
we talked in the hallway.
He brought new york here:
his clothes and voice,
a prize in Spanish land.
His dance was muscle car strong,
but it was not tango in full:
so the passion unbloomed- abrubt.