Quietly they sat,
too afraid to make a sound,
too anxious to hold one back.
Mother sat in the front
leaning forward into her Self.
A web of hair atop her head,
a masquerade, poised and certain.
Father drove the loaded bus,
stern-faced, watching
each gust of wind slowly pass.
Dream on they whispered.
Sister and brother both peered back,
Waiting for the next note to be louder
and harder.
Hopefully cause an up-rise
that could break the horrendous silence.
Impatiently they ask 'What are you writing?'�.
'Homework'� I tell them,
though knew we'd soon be away from home
and work.
Thick pink lace and sparkling sequence,
floral patterns and hairspray,
ready, overdressed,
soon we'd leave home.
Daddy hit the garage button
and pulled back in reverse.
Mommy chirped 'Maybe something's
in the way.'�
and daddy jumped out, instinct obeying her.
Bro and sis tapping feet,
pulling out their games
and passing them back and back to each other.
Giggles on parade,
the float took on the drive
Mom pushed back her hair
and flipped up the mirror.
We were off down the bumpy road,
street-work.

Bushes bleed pastel paper,
branches reach down
lifelessly picking up the garbage.
Red Cedar Jubilee
In remembrance of the last
holiday's significance.
Tinsel fences gleam,
fruits sit balanced gracefully
atop them.
Cooing pears and apples,
leftovers of a cheerful brunch.

Lofty brown steams uprooted from the world.
How far down is down?
A butter rum Pinto scoots down the road
making another queasy color protrude from the horizon.
The gray hint of somber evening.
A rusted bird pedals by,
warning all of nightly
hunters.

No profitable reason for the fleeting mind, fragmented and obscure.

Tall plain totems lift the clouds in pleasant ivory,
freezing each breathe of heat in rapid sighs.
The earthly chills scrape candy bliss from our tongues,
cursing our optimism.
Winter turns to spring,
good overcomes evil,
classic hope.

'Enrich your Life,'� says a billboard
studded with the refinement of classical music.
The bored children next to me erupt in frustration,
pushing each other and screaming giggles of waste.
I groan and threaten them,
I'd do anything for silence.
The road encloses us,
tall evergreens jut out along its banked sides.
Uncanny life in a season so barren,
they trick us,
hiding all the dead Oaks
and Sugar Maples behind them.

Babies were born to be breastfed?

'Well that's the last time I buy her a fancy car.'�
he raged as he threw the contents of the back towards the front.
Girl scout cookies, bags, and toys flew overhead.
'On your side John, above the wheel well.'�
he pointed left and hit the side.
And both red-faced men
swam through the back
swearing, seeking
a spare.

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