Surreal

for Totally Optional Prompts March 20, 2008
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Every Year, Just Before School Begins

I am wearing
a Red Sox cap
with the visor
pulled low
shading my eyes

in the shower.
That’s why I can’t
find the shampoo
or conditioner
or soap.

Finally, I just get out
of the tub
and wipe myself
with the rug
since my towel
has disappeared.

Then, what to wear…
I stand in front
of my closet
looking for my black
skirt
but can only find
my dead father’s
clothes.

I dress in his pants
that hang
on me like elephant
legs. I need
a belt
but can only find
a necklace.
That will have to do.

I walk downstairs
with just my bra
and those pants
on and start making
my lunch
but the bread is all
gone so I pack
the toaster in my book-
bag, instead.

At school
no one notices
I am only half dressed.
My kids are too busy
throwing things
around the room,
making out in corners,
dancing to a live band
that has set up
in front of my desk.

I holler.
I scream.
I whistle.
They ignore me.
An alarm clock
whizzes through
the air.
I catch it
and feel the round
snooze button.

I push it
and settle back
into the cranberry
sheets of my waterbed,

the August sun
outlining the shade
in neon reality.

Dreams

for ReadWritePoem March 10, 2008

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I waited
through the fog
of Mrs. Landrigan’s
grammar lesson
then asked
if I could talk
to Norm
about my senior project
on dreams.

As I walked
to his desk
I saw
the sun
break through
like egg yolk
and dribble down
Mt. Washington
in the distance.

“So, what did you dream
about last night?”
I asked him
loud enough for the teacher
to hear.

In whispers
soft as pussy willows
he asked me
about my sister,
whom he wanted to date

and I wondered
if Mike
his best friend,
had asked about me.

I told him
that Nancy had drawn
a heart
on her notebook
with his initials
in it.

He told me
that Mike
was hoping
I’d be at the dance
on Friday night.

Mrs. Landrigan eyed
us so Norm
started weaving
a gauzy tale.
The sun
moved onto the desk
and lit up
the dust motes
of our dreams.