there was always a baguette

we can just dance around each other i say to the woman
who excuses her mopping around me in the kitchen
as i arrange an open-face sawndwich
in front of the toaster
_______

what time do you get out of here the young
office depot delivery man
asks after setting down the ream of paper 
outside the office door
the smoothness of his at-least-twelve-years-younger-than-me voice
careening off the white walls in the entryway
_______
walking west into sun so bright and low
that everone
is illuminated
_______
opulence i say as aurvi and i trek our way back
groceries in our bags 
as i talk about photos from the one million dollar wedding
_______

mom and dad and i laughing
over skype when talking about me
calling my senators and him saying 
something like
well, good, this means you don’t see the need to lock yourself to anything anymore
and me saying oh, i still see that need.
all tactics are necessary right now
_______

aurvi standing there with the third bottle of wine
and how i laugh because if she were a superhero
a semi-full wine bottle would be her
magic secret power accessory
_______

how all of us here gathered
around snacks and wine and words reminds me
of our mid 90’s poetry gatherings
with jan (pronounced yahn)
and izzy and brock and jack and marje and angie
there was always a french baguette and
a bottle of wine

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Filed under daily practice, images, poems, poetry, writing

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