AUGUST POSTCARD POEMS 31–37 PISTACHIO FUNK

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This completes the August 2012 postcard poem madness. I can't believe I used soupçon in two poems in a row! Let us never speak of this again.

There is no end

to the disparate items

that may find their

way into a dog’s day.

Fonzie used to bring home

treasures—rag doll,

dead squirrel, and once

an aluminum chair,

its webbing rotted from

too many summers in the sun.

If only all gifts arrived

with so much love.

Let me owe you kisses

for weeding the garden,

a hug for fixing the faucet,

a million smiles

for being there

every day when I wake up

My garden kicks ass—

mine, mostly, for upsetting

the bugbane when it

got transplanted for

the 3^rd time in 3 years.

The strawberries smacked me

for lack of proper soil

and I was sternly spoken to

about the hostas by lobelia

that was rendered all but

invisible by the hosta’s

flamboyance.

Still she tells me

to look after myself

  —move the body

  —take your vitamins

  —stop giving away your time

and only now

am I starting to realize

she’s been talking

to herself

and I must discover

my own dialogue

I’m going to put

the “dust” in disturbing

the “moth” in mother

take the “lies” out of realize

stir the “soup” in a soupçon

of word games

that conspire

to keep me

from writ(h)ing!

She thinks she’s turned

a corner

a page

over a new leaf

when she gets the black metal

jewellery holder that would look

so good on the red wall

in her bedroom as far as

the check-out counter

then abandons it with aplomb

scarcely a backwards glance

just the slightest soupçon of regret

the tangled chains

the too-small rings

the brooches she never wears

will just have to settle

for life on a peg board

yelling “Pick me” every time

she walks by

Czeslaw always wondered

why, after his spectacular

performance in the

Men’s racing bike competition

he won because there was

so little resistance on the part

of the bike seat, why,

when he came home,

did everyone start

calling him Pistachio

Thus ends my run of postcards sent for August 2012. As I mentioned in an earlier post, sometimes a card is written in response to a card received. And to go even further back, sometimes a card is written in response to an earlier conversation between the sender and the sendee. Sometimes those conversations happen in real life. Sometime they happen online, say on Facebook, in response to a photo someone puts up. The card that follows is one I received from the always brilliant Kim Clark, who was the lucky recipient of the card directly above. 

August postcarding is hardly fun at all!

A well-tended garden
produces a lot more than pistachios—
pole beans, long English cukes, grease
monkeys, anything
your heart desires.
Just visualize all those organic fruits
and nuts. Seed them inappropriately
for amazing results. The varieties
are endless. One can even
encourage them to grow in bottles—
the shape of things to come.

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