SCENE: we're back in the old house
where I long to reside in spite
  of it all but wait there's a long-haired sprite
   akin to The Ring girl circling
     aimlessly in the hallway likely an autonomoid
    waving a captive bolt pistol which
   looks like the one that belonged to your father
  who as a Victor slash Commando admirer
built himself you said it looked like Lego
   he didn't respond kindly to that observation
    a weapon ripe for incapacitation at least
  which we could do without at this juncture
(full disclosure he's buried under the garage)

ACTION: slam the kitchen door and tuck myself
out of sight behind the cooker
  wrestle off my restrictive overcoat
   I just feel freer in shorts and a tee
    grab a rolling pin who even has one of those anymore
     how about a knife, the knifes where are they
    <i>and what are you gonna do with a knife anyway?</i>
   consider hurling cricket ball style at the Ring head
  a chunky mug no that Filippo Berio bottle
the chopping board out of reach is sturdy but I hear a rattling

ACT TWO: my sister's voice urgent from outside 'come now'
I rush for the back door and one step two step
  along the path and onto the lawn follow her down
   to the gate sidle through the 'loose section' then
free into the woods, platonic escape, don't look back

Every step along the grass elicits a satisfying audio thud
the green shades and breezy lollop convincingly rendered
  my sister approaches from the west catches up
   her athleticism matches mine as it never did
    and we gallop in unison toward the perimeter
     a glorious second of release before she barks 'She's behind us!'
   I glance back and see the bolt pointed,
  blank fac'd in relentless pursuit

ANTICLIMAX: I round the corner with my twin
and we stumble upon the blessed mundanity
  of a bus stop
    but I left
   my card
  in my coat
in the kitchen

she won't stop,
onto the next person
only seconds
after the last.

"it's the chase, isn't it?"
i asked her
on one
soft,
slow,
boring
morning --
where her reply was quick
and short.

"i don't date."

it was the
thrill,
excitement,
the fun
of it all.

with each switch,
she left someone
broken
and hurt
more than what they
already were.

The silver shore is calling me
A restless moon upon the sea
Your voice is waves against the stone
But I am drifting all alone
The lighthouse hums a mournful tune
It sings of love and dies too soon
I reach for you, a beauty glow
But tides will take what tides must know
Set my heart upon your sail
A lantern in the howling gale
Let love be wind, let love be sky
Without your touch the stars run dry
So hold me close before the tide
Before the dawn can cast me wide
For love is fleeting, wild and deep
A sailor lost, a dreamers leap.

Cherry blossoms, soft and bright,
Dance in spring, a fleeting sight.
Some teach us, like whispers in the breeze,
Lessons in petals, carried with ease.

Others bloom, blessings in the sun,
Filling hearts, dispelling the fun.
As they arrive, they too must part,
Leaving fragrance, a mark on the heart.

Cherish each moment, both lesson and grace,
For life’s like blossoms, a beautiful chase.
In seasons' cycle, we learn to let go,
Embracing the beauty in ebb and flow.

The cats suspect that there’s a mouse
I think at first, a catnip toy…
The black cat sees the toy and grins…
And bats a mouse that rolls, then runs… then rolls again… and then
   they run
Behind a chair… The cat appears… and there’s the mouse,
He has it hanging from his mouth,
He puts it down… he has it pinned…
And then I see it run again.

I’m kind of sorry for the mouse, but after, all this is our house,
And cats see mice as natural prey. They really should just stay away
And learn to cope with life outside. But since it pressed its luck
   within,
I’m rooting for our cat to win.

Another chase, another pin… completely still…is this the end?
Well, no… he lets it go again.
The mouse heads for the cellar door, there’s safety on the basement floor
A blocking move! As good as dead? Another joke…the mouse has
   fled.
The cats give chase, but that’s the end. The mouse is hiding out again.

I notice that no blood’s been shed. Perhaps because the cat’s well fed,
The claws that tear cat toys to shreds have not appeared to slash his
   prey.
I guess that’s for another day, the drama here was just some play,
But now the traps are on the way.