Archive for the 'food' Category


A drop of blue

at the corner
of your mouth. Is this the
excuse I’m longing for to touch
your lips?


sounds the same

They say seafood is an acquired taste but
By the time I turned thirteen I knew I loved muscles.
Some folks like to stick with local producers.
Provenance is no impediment to me-
Imported? Domestic? Artificially stimulated?
Hell, they all look good.
I’ve heard that you should stay away
From oysters in months whose names lack an “R”.
This rule does not apply to muscles
Because summer is when they’re at their best.
Squeeze on a dollop of oil, heat then add salt to taste.
I’ll eat ’em up with a spoon.
Damn. My mouth is watering already and
It’s cloudy and still early June.


Moonlight And More So

The world is much more so
When I’m trying to fall asleep:
Bubbles in the Perrier pinging against their green glass prison;
Cats who discreetly waited till after midnight to consummate their lust;
Unread and partially read books jostling for position in the bedside pile;
Chocolate with sea salt and chocolate with ginger breathing darkly through the gaps in the drawers;
Moonlight- somehow brighter than the sun was at noon- slanting through the blinds, sparkling on the needles in my abandoned knitting;
And words cartwheeling in my brain wanting to be couplets and paragraphs.
Bubbles and chocolates and words, where were you all day?
Will any of you still be hanging around when I wake up?



I must not try to read.
I must not try to read and eat.
I must not try to read and eat at the same time.
I must not try to read and eat at the same time in bed.
I must not try to read and eat at the same time in bed when it means holding the food with just one hand.
That probably goes double if the food is messy and has bits like mushrooms that may fall off on the sheets.
Although the falling bits do leave an aromatic mushroomy cheesy yumminess behind on the sheets.
But their- however temporary- presence means the sheets need to be washed.
And that frees up more time for reading.
I must do the laundry.


1730 (holding down the fort)

Spring rolls, chow mein, rice
are next door. Hunger tempts me;
Duty holds me fast.



I’m becoming concerned about what Dad eats
But Mom says we can’t control it.
A cup of oatmeal
Mug of 1% milk
Half a can of peaches
With his morning pills
A retainer band
Cork stopper for a jar
Four tiny rubber tires
And their antique police car
Two slices of bologna
A burger with Tillamook cheese
A coffee drink
More milk
Three wayward Canadian geese
Grape juice
Some horseradish
The remote for Mom’s TV
A baby gate
Candy canes from 2006
Our coffee table
Two slices of Cheddar
A bottle of Diet Coke
One Chinese dinner
With fortune cookie
A wood-handled leather jump rope
I’ve been very concerned about what Dad eats
But Mom-
Mom was right; we couldn’t control it.


No Mea Culpa

there are onions all over this burger,
I said, and I ordered it with none.
she stuck out her bottom lip, pouting,
and said, it’s not my fault. blame the
President if I’m incompetent. after
all, I did a good job when I had one.