i am restless,
out of place, so
i dream about moving to a town
so far away and small that
i am unknown — where the
only talk at the local diner is
the weather and coffee refills
but i stay here instead, practiced
pleasantries obscuring quiet
hope in a swirl of spoiled
creamer and
thin smiles.

in praise of g.w. carver

I walk the entire perimeter of the cafeteria. 

I almost eat a salad (!).

But eventually I reach for a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. 

Why? Because by lunchtime, I have succeeded in working myself into a sappy sack over sad old memories and things I can’t fix and stuff I’ve lost. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that PB&J can make so many sad things better. 

note to world #3423

here i am, internet surfing for garb for my upcoming ‘life-force yoga’ retreat. and i guess i’m learning that it’s a ‘thing’ that all yoga tops must be shaped like loose spider webs that hang off your breasts.  and i suppose no regular shapely and firm yoga-doing person cares much that i hate spider webs and that the last thing that hung off my boobs was a nursing baby who won the Nobel Prize in Physics for her contribution to the study of the acceleration of mass toward gravity.   and i wish i had paused – for even just one moment – before saying yes to something i had honestly thought was a “star wars” trilogy movie marathon weekend for ladies.