SNEAKY LIZARD LOUNGE
Welcome to the Sneaky Lizard Lounge,
Where you may come to get away,
Drink, and hear the records play.
Lay your troubles on the bar.
Collect a cold draft instead.
Dry your sweat and the blood you’ve bled.
Keep your money in your wallet.
Lord knows, it doesn’t get you far.
Take a sip; I know your life is hard.
Feel the air so stale and still.
Relax your breathing, too.
There’s nothing here for you to do.
Hear the drums beat a pulse.
Feel the rhythm calm your soul.
Inhale the pleasures of life before you go.
For once you leave the Lounge,
Your troubles will meet you at the door,
And your life will be just as it was before.
Stay here at the Sneaky Lizard Lounge,
Where you may come to get away,
Drink, and hear the records play.
MORNING RUN
I, potato in a scratchy brown sack
awake round and dusty.
Rolling, I tumble to the high school track
straining with skin too starchy.
I, banana in a ripe morning grove
spread across the dewy grass.
I see before me, the steamy summer road,
and dive into the blender with a splash!
I, linguini in boiling water
cook as I toil round.
Spinning, I’m drenched as I drive faster
until I’m done and cooling down.
I, red apple, wholesome and freshly picked
inhale the sweetness of what I’ve done.
Crisp and flushed and full of joy
I’m myself thanks to my morning run.
SEPTEMBER
I stand on his bare feet.
We sway and sway and sway.
Love Will Keep Us Alive.
Pink roses on my cheeks.
He smiles under his beard.
Innocence never dies.
Spring sets. Our music fades.
Daddy’s heart was sick.
Roses wilt on the vine.
Fall leaves adorn his grave.
Our dance together, done.
My pink roses have dried.
Bionote
I have been published in Motherwell and the Journal of Kindness. I am also the founding editor of the Veggie Wagon Journal, a literary and art magazine celebrating animals and those who advocate for them.
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