The simple pleasure of purchasing shoes
that fit like a crown made for your toes,
reminds me of the Philippine First Lady,
Emelda Marcos and her closet of clogs
Some folks are unhappy with their cornucopia filled
and other are content if they get one gild.

If ennui were pie,
we had a good slice of it
in the wee dark
waiting for the last
homing pigeons to arrive
with the latest PR from Jupiter
and how it's the planetary Hoover,
except on occasions
it misses a flot,
and a helluva lot of dinosaurs are vaporized.

While birthdays are a matter of record,
for most of us conception day
is mired in mist,
but if one is a triskaidekaphobic
though sadly born on the 13th,
why not celebrate your inceptionation
on any old date and week.

Is it stalking to drive by a summoned apparition?
Imagining you in the back yard
playing with your old dog,
or walking through the apple orchard
reading a book of my love poems,
or my lifting a phantom shovel to dig you out from under that last storm.

I think of you
at the oddest times,
and the strangest places,
as if I were an air show pilot
with the stick pulled back
and the rudders set in place,
and within that ******, roar, and airframe shake
I notice that in my chest there beats a heart that aches.

I was late,
I missed you,
I waited under the lamp light,
watching my shadow
look up and down the street,
listening,
                 but
                       the
                              barely
                                         audible
                                                        footsteps
                                                  ­                         were yesterday's.

Soon spring will grass,
high snow melt,
creeks and brooks begin to swell,
birds not seen in months
will find the fittest mates,
what then --
will our feet be treading mud,
or be toe to toe beneath the sheets?