Thin Air Blues

Please, no more of this
falling off the mountain. Let's
get an espresso.

Mammoth Monday

Blue sky gives way to
starry night, then fire, wine, friends
and drifted-snow dreams

Luge

A shrink-wrapped human
bullet speeds through an icy
chute in what looks like
a child's red sled as conceived
by Ferrari. Why?

Mojave, CA

Earlier today, we made the six-hour drive from Laguna to Mammoth for the kids' mid-winter break, aka ski week. We passed through a high-desert hamlet called Mojave, with the best billboards and retail signage ever. Here's a "found" poem (sort of):


Make your own cigarettes and SAVE!
Mojave Smog--Test Only
SAT NITE KA Ra OKE
and
LIVE BAND
PORKCHOPDINNERSPECIAL
Guns4Us--Over 450 Guns in Stock!
A4dable HOMEs from $157,000

Loaves, Fishes and Laundry

I’ve never seen a
self-refilling jug of oil
nor a jar of flour
that never runs out. Neither
have I witnessed a
miraculous basket that
multiplies loaves and
fishes. But right here, in my
own house, there is a
magical laundry hamper
that is always full;
even if I’ve just emptied
it, I turn my back
and—Poof! It’s overflowing.

Dad's Baby Picture

Look at that, I said to my son:
Before your dad was a bad-ass—
skipping out on the Young Calvinists’ Convention,
busting his hamstrings and concussing his head
on a skateboard at fifty miles an hour,
getting kicked out of college
and showing up on the evening news—
he was a flaxen-haired cherub,
with cheeks so chubby and glossy
they might as well have been basted in butter,
wearing short pants and knee socks,
his plump hands folded in his lap.

Reset

Today I’m feeling like a real underachiever. I got the kids to their various activities and no one went hungry—so I’ve got that going for me—but I didn’t get much writing done, and my desk is a mess again. I got sidetracked by errands and a sudden urge to read the newspaper online and four individual visits by members of the city’s Design Review Board and and and…. I need to revisit my to-do list first thing tomorrow morning, in order to regain my focus and replace the scatterbrained me with the productive me.


High school, middle school.
Tennis team, music lessons.
Homework. Eat. Repeat.

Sounds of Home

Let me always remember
these sounds of home
that wash over me:
The soft whir of the laundry room fan
and the electric hum of a desk lamp.
The music of my sons—one practicing guitar chords,
the other whistling intermittently over homework.
Faint voices on the radio downstairs,
the throaty diesel engine of the neighbor’s truck.
At this moment, all is well
and I am enveloped,
borne into the evening
by a tide of audible peace and contentment.

Brassica Oleracea

Today was a sunny, pleasant, uneventful Monday. Which is wonderful, as Mondays go. But I was feeling uninspired and couldn’t figure out what to write about. While I was preparing dinner it occurred to me that some of the foods I disliked as a child are now my favorites. The lowly Brussels sprout is a case in point: it turns out that extra-virgin olive oil, salt, pepper, and a very hot oven turn this little cabbage into something to love. Who knew?


Your crispy, salty
outer leaves fall away to
reveal a mellow,
mild heart. Brussels sprout,
you’ve changed! I never knew it
could be like this with
you, you little wild cabbage!

Fishermen

We fished all night but
caught nothing, nil. Go back out
to the deep water
and let down your nets for a
catch, He says. Really?
we tried that already, I
say. But if you say
so, I will let out the nets.
(here goes nothing, I
mutter under my breath.) Well,
I let out those darn
nets and wouldn’t you know it:
they come up so full
they’re breaking, I kid you not.