Tanka Girl

because you are smart
you think they think you are dumb
forget what they think
squeamishness serves the weak ones
there's no valor in squeamish

she's a vampire
she has no skills or a clue
old enough to know
but the blood damaged her brain
now she sits and drinks coffee

no one comes to read
which, for this author, is good
because i can skip
instead stare out the window
at the crossing power lines

some days I am rash
like a grumpy household pet
that never gets out
gives you disdainful glances
and you know there's no repair

fifty five emails
over two hundred folders
a system of life
for those who fear the living
and interface through a screen

each of us decends
from that ancient átomos
primitive adam
with mass in the nucleus
surrounded by social laws

they say that it's true
there's prozac in the water
more serotonin
pisses through city filters
and fish are soaked with prozac

this cat keeps walking
pushing into my keyboard
purring like she knows
as if she aims to repair
this human disconnection

something about rice
my friend Davey can't cook it
he burns the bottom
then the pan always has this
shaded pattern of burnt rice

they say take your life
seriously, seize the day,
you only live once
but I say make life a joke
so that you and yours may laugh

two forty year olds
old buddies from years gone by
sit in the kitchen
two computers side-by-side
sharing funny videos

the test is over
close your composition book
put down the pencil
learning only goes so far
life can be lived without books

Tanka Girl is taking a break because hardly anyone ever visits this site. Thank you for stopping by. If you feel I should continue, please comment.

inject the great books
fill your time with the paper
rest your eyes on words
fuller lips, fewer wrinkles
a thin nose and full blond hair

the interviewer
in his purposeful wrinkles
looks like he's asleep
so intelligent he nods
it's true he knows the answers

last year was better
the sun imparted more heat
the clouds were rounder
all was easier to paint
easier to capture God

she talks without teeth
her dentures shift out her vowels
lips weakly curbing
determination to speak
but her eyes still light ideas

all is wet with rain
they say the world is dying
my arms around you
you say the world is ours forever
and I choose to believe you

they wait in the line
groceries in a push cart
she points at Esquire
he rolls his eyes, shove the cart
hands a pack of gum to her

giant fresh baked treat
the children love to eat you
your sweet insides mush
with each bite they take of you
in their love of sugar lumps

we used to be close
shared secrets and ideas
similar life goals
and then I became wicked
we split up and talk no more

how her lips curve down
when she sees you walking by
her desk stacked with files
eyes no longer register
she controls naught but her mind

she stands to one side
her legs shapely as crib notes
a single vein sprung
shattered purple feathering
from her shorts to her ankle

grandpa's makeup kit
dusty old unicycle
and juggling balls
neglected in the closet
waiting for grandkids to care

it has been three years
when I see you I feel it
time has passed between
but I still hate that you live
and never want to see you

my lovely Betty,
you told me not to see you
that you need your space
but I can't help following
or using your web password

curling all the Qs
minding the peas and carrots
raising the split ends
so one may find his own truth
amid the clash of this world

disconnect my mind
from the underground cable
put my feet outside
let my body follow them
force my eyes to see the world

mitt on his fingers
he leans against the chain link
shouting to the stands
he wonders why his feet sweat
and if he will catch her eye

eyes chilled icicle
because I refuse to sleep
Rest is the wicked
and I will not give him fame
though I yawn and roll back tired