Explosions in Baghdad Kill 17, Leaving Many Without Food, Water, and Electricity…

A set of keys perched
on the rim of a Gucci purse
that rested in a sea of plastic grocery bags on the kitchen table.
She had kicked her shoes off
and they lay nudged under the stove
where she had been making macaroni and cheese.

The television flickered light across the floor and up the wall
of the newly furnished apartment,
the white noise competing
with her conversation on the telephone.

She was pacing from her closet to the front door,
stopping only to critique herself in the bathroom mirror,
before she decided that what she was wearing
didn’t reflect this month’s issue of Vogue.

In the corner of the bedroom
she staggered through a pile of clothes
while in front of the six o’clock news broadcast
a bowl of macaroni and cheese grew cold.
 

Capture the Flag

Sun screen and bug repellent are the best of friends
When the patriotic icicles melt under the sun
Passing the time in the battlefield of capture the flag
The neighborhood kids formed into distinct tribes
Each one fighting for the ultimate representation of power
Tim’s worn out basketball jersey
Sara’s discarded superman cape
Or John’s filthy fishing cap

Simple Amusements

In the fall of 1985 I was playing Candyland with my grandpa when the sirens went off
     warning a tornado was approaching. He took me outside so that I could “experience
     nature first hand”.
In the summer of 2003 I approached a table to take an order. I asked the costumer how she
     was doing, and she remarked, “”I’m dying, how would you be?” I brought her a cup of
     coffee.
In the fall of 2003 a picture that my grandfather took sat in the entryway of my childhood
     home. It is of me doing a cartwheel and in the background you can see two tornados
     towering in the skyline.
In the winter of 1986 I was trained to place pillows in the doorframe joining the hall with the
     bathroom to my keep my brother from playing in the toilet.
In the summer before my sophomore year in high school I went off-roading with some friends
     and got stuck. I was forced to dig the Camry out of the wet sand while the boys started
     a fire in the middle of the desert. The smoke signals caught the eye of the local police
     department. We were charged with trespassing.
In the seasons of 1990 to 2001 I shared a bathroom with my brother. He never cleaned the
     toilet because it was “to unsanitary to touch”.
In the summer before I entered the 7th grade, I almost missed my cue to enter stage right.
     Running across the green room I tripped down a flight of metal stairs. I went on stage
     with the skin peeling from my knee and blood draining to my shoe. The director wrapped
     my leg in Bounty and duct tape because the first aid kit was empty. The name of the
     production was “The Show Must Go On”.
In the fall of third grade I stole my classmate’s show-and-tell. I ran around the room calling
     it Big Bird while humming the theme to Sesame Street. She tackled me to the floor and
     hit me with the stuffed animal until its eyes popped out.
In the winter of 1987 my parents surprised me with a visit from Santa Clause. This man
     knew my name and presented me with my very first Cabbage Patch Kid. I kicked him
     twice and refused to come out from under my bed until my dad had convinced me that
     the “evil man” was gone.
In the fall of my third year in college I was maid of honor for one of my closest childhood
     friends. I found out the news of her engagement when I received a package that
     contained a mutilated duck. Attached to the toy a note read, “Big Bird requests the
     honor of your presence…”