MANSES

And he wants to know why I'm always moving
the furniture. And could I leave maps at the
door so after a long day at work he can find
the bedroom

Living for years in cold dark Presbyterian manses
where the wallpaper can't have poster adornment
because of marks, the bedlamps can't be moved
from here to there for the same unreasonableness

the furniture plentiful in the previous manse now
appears dollhouse-like in the latest. But there's
no point in buying more because the next move
may be a downsize

and here beganneth the creation of 'What's the
point, make do' because today might not fit into
tomorrow and a legacy of the depression years -
the sin of wastefulness

scrimping and saving became second to inhaling
an addiction, even when the need was no longer
buying or eyeing the unutilitarian brought on
remorsefulness and guilt

Now I spend glorious hours dropping 'n
dragging furniture and pictures, discarding
before wear 'n tear sets in, and buying just
for the unholy joy of it

MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE

it used to be the mail
he'd wait for
in anticipation of

then it was the phone, maybe
on his return there'd be
a message

now it's the computer, the
twice daily log on
for emails

but mostly he
walks along the beach, just
in case

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