Our canal is a living snake today,
trees and sky reflected in it's slithery
skin. The air jungle heavy. The sky
like a dirty Magic Eraser after cleaning
Gary's grungy footprints off the bottom
of the shower. Before we retired,
I only saw him for a few minutes before
he left for work and for an hour or so
around supper time before he'd fall asleep.
So, we got along great. Now, we're together
every day. It's not a bad thing. We don't fight.
It's just that sometimes I love clouds.
I enjoy sitting in the cloying air. I relish
shooing the damn birds off the railing.
And, so what if my flowers need watering.
Each word I type is a little punch, a jab.
Pow, Bam. I chuckle at how great it feels
to have this gift, this way of coping.
Soon, I'll go in, we'll have breakfast,
we'll talk, we'll perform our everyday
ballet. But, for just a few more minutes
I'll scratch and claw with my fingertips.
A neighbor has a buzz saw screeching,
screeching, the music of my morning.