Across Boundaries

I will be professional when professional is fun

Draped in pink cotton

I will feed the wrong dog when it comes

The font was circus.

With the same last name like gang-busters or nitwittery

I wish I could spend all day with the track star.

Misty eyes.

Always yielding to our modern scholars

colorful beads dangling from the necks of gentle giants

Head to foot on the grass under 14 tons of old school steel.

You asked if I was happy with the struggle?

The Red Badge of Courage.

The Scarlet Letter.

I will write that poem for the plastic gutter spoon

under the M

crave the extremes like don't let the day end

In sweats stripe stretching across her

become a monk and a god star beaming

Knees up pressing on the seat back in front of them on my hands palms down

on the tops of them side by side on the school bus

drivers mind.