Two Poems

Suburban Priorities

The yard is cut; trimming done.
Both floors are dusted and vacuumed.
Each bathroom is spotless.
The wash is folded
and put away.
The kids
are with the neighbors
at the zoo.
12:30 pm
and WE
have the house
all to ourselves
and you ask if
I want LUNCH?


Advice To Martha While In A Dry Spell

There is a cruelty in this pantomime life
so, in order to appreciate rainbows
you must shiver in a soaking rain
or cut red your legs with thorns and briars
while chasing the freedom symbol butterfly.
You must want your lover to kiss you with such despair
that you continually refuse his advances.
When captured in time of happiness and triumph
you must seek and comfort a lonely friend.
On a fog storm Sunday evening,
fill your home with jasmine and gingerbread.
When wheedling trivia seeps
through the pores of your patience
perspire the clichés.
Constantly chase such universals as
ignorance, hatred, fear and jealousy
until you embrace them with your own force.
Only quarrel with yourself
as all your answers are only questions.
At least once a month, ignore the day
or idolize a moonless night.
Remember children!
And as for the magic potion elixir:
mix memory with desire.