Heavy Snow Warnings

It snowed all night.
My ex came by
and brought Chinese.

We talked.
Something we seldom did
in twenty years of marriage.
He slept in the spare room
and this morning I made pancakes.

I watched his red truck drive away,
kept watching till snow

buried his tracks.



I am India,
sunny, colorful.
My temple bells ring out,
calling everyone to dance.

You are Japan,
green and Zen.
You sit in silence,


City of Joy

My driver wears a turban
and white gloves.
I stare out of the window,
sipping bottled water.

Fumes from burning tires
sting my lungs.
Through smoke,
an elephant appears.

People walk barefoot
along the highway
avoiding mud-holes
and construction.

Others peer from hovels,
plastic bags for rooftops.
Family and ancient gods
shield them from the elements.

A cow wanders
along the overpass
past billboard gurus
and Bollywood smiles.

Motorcycles, rickshaws, bikes,
women wearing rainbow saris,
beggars, dogs and businessmen,
no one stopping for red lights.

Back home in Colorado,
cars zoom along an empty road,
people locked inside,
buckled-up in safety-belts.

I press my nose
against the glass
attempting to get
closer to this life.


The Other Woman

I am the keeper of his dreams
He comes to me,
because I wander freely
through dark recesses of his heart.

She is the keeper of his house.
He stays with her
because she never strays
into the dark recesses of his soul.

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