Tapping the pack on the table,
dusk.
Turning the pack over
again and again
a mindless spin,
slowly
removing the cellophane covering.
Unfolding the foil,
pulling it off.

Flirting with fate is feeble
it is said.
I tend to fend off fate
or maybe
it is that I fence with it,
I don't know
it could be the same.
As ferocious as I dig
the beast ferrets me out,

On the fourth Farley would fling flies for fun.
He would flatten then fling, fast.
The family favored Farley for his ability
they would watch as a floating fly

The elevator door opened
up or down,
I looked through the door
others peered at me,
were they worried, bored?
Did they too wonder
will we make it to our floor
without tumbling down to smash

The viceroy was vigilant in his vice,
protecting his venture into vicarious viewing.
From his vantage it was not a violation,
vehement in his vigorous vassalage,
underestimating veracity.

The eulogy for Edward was unusually enviable.
The extended entourage sat enthralled
by the exploits of this ebullient eccentric.
Words echoed his easy going way,

I stood next to the building, alone.
Observing the street scene,
people, noises, conversations
the snippets of life
a quiet person is privy to.
Still, waiting for the bus
the wind whipped up

Allie looked into the air, sighing.
Alas, the airship floated overhead
albeit slowly, somehow it appeared
alien in the Alaska wilderness.
Allegations of an alliance she heard,

Petra patrolled the perimeter,
one eye to the periphery,
preferring to preempt
any perilous perfidy.
Periodically he would stop to
peruse the periodicals,

Nattering I hear
conform
always conform
like bugs I want
to swat
and not softly
tell me what I
should
be
negating what I
want to be
no, no they say
you can do better
why
I say

She stared at the child
with a question,
day in and day out it was the same
what to name her?
Passed around the baby
from arm to arm
what should we call her,
she was supposed to be a boy.

Sitting in the middle of the yard is a beauty
arched, resting, quiet
the buds swelling
with each warm day
some will look
seeing only floppiness
there are those who will perceive

Dipping the paddle in the water
pulling towards me
then up, drip, drip, drip
back in the water
pull again
moving forward
with each pull
one side then the other
the moon guides me along

I looked through that parting
cattails to either side
moonlight reflected off the water
creating a path
brushing the debris from the canoe
up righting it
pushing it forward
to launch

Fern was a funny little frog
always fantasizing about
fancy, frilly filigree.
What a frog.
Fern spied Fin one day among the flowers.
How fortuitous, it was as the fortuneteller said.