Cheaters

“Let me tell you a story.”

The girl stared at the ceiling, and as her father sat on the edge of the bed she scooted back to keep her distance. She sighed meaningfully while her father began talking.

“When I was in high school they had a big Trivial Pursuit contest out on the quad.” The girl had never played the game, and probably didn’t know what a quad was, but she didn’t ask for clarification so her father pressed on. “We had a pretty good team. We were all honors students. Continue reading Cheaters

A little space

A little space here
which I have walked into
where love resides but lies hidden,
gathers dust.  A quiet space
where love resides but relaxes
and changes its clothes.
I can’t make it out.
The light is uncomfortably dim,
but comfortable almost in the non-knowledge
that love resides,
that it rests in a chair, which squeaks,
and carries on its business.
Answers letters, pays bills,
and sleeps.
A small space,
but freedom to move,
and a window, thankfully, hopefully,
upon the world.


[Full disclosure: this is poem #6 in a series of poems mentioned here.]

X-Ray Vision

David was nearsighted.  At the age of twelve he received his first pair of glasses. He carried them in a case in his backpack, and when the teacher wrote something on the chalkboard, he retrieved them discreetly and placed them on the bridge of his nose.  If possible, while taking notes, he kept his left hand on his glasses in order to take them off as soon as the teacher stopped writing on the board.  He hated his glasses. Continue reading X-Ray Vision