losing streak
our mascot
soars overhead

seventh inning stretch
rushing for the concessions
a cracker jack toy

warm fresh air
pitter patter of cleats
spring training

seventy degrees
and sunny
new Texan friends

letting you in
one smile
at a time

60 foot six inches
staring down the batter
looking for the strike zone

the sun
squeezes between the clouds
sudden warmth

saw dust floats away
with the
cold wind

embracing—
the cold
caught from her

fresh fish fry
drinks spilling
dinner along the shore

hair in curlers
lipstick on and crown secured
ready to tackle the day

an old oak tree
snaps apart
as we split it

old friends reunited . . .
once again
cold brew     for two

children’s hospital
where the little girl lays
pearl necklace—glimmer of hope

a glimmer of hope
spreads across the child’s face
her hospital bed

coffee coffee coffee
three cups this morning
fifteen documents sent out

high school sweethearts
love coming home
hate going back

hotel
my home away from home
another 3 am kitchen fire

warm weather
with crashing waves
. . . not in Illinois

the wind—
does sweep down the plain
Ooooooklahoma

spring break . . .
beach or
Netflix and chill

thunderstorm
first day
of spring break

date night . . .
dinner and a movie
with my best friend

money moves
teaching my family a lesson
Monopoly

margaritas
bonding together
her and my parents

looking back
pics never die
iCloud

puke and rally
st. pattys day . . .
my favorite

pink and orange sky . . .
letting the dogs out
at dawn

baseball is coming
we watch spring training
on television

painting the kitchen
halfway through . . .
out of paint

spring break
catching up on much
needed sleep

falling asleep
on an air mattress
waking up . . . on the floor

clothing
on the floor
all week long

bright yellow rays emerge
over morning clouds
sunrise

sinking into the leather couch
granny and my parents talk politics
I play with the dog

bullet holes pierced
the street sign—
swiss cheese

new to us
family ride in the
old green ford

hometown bar
late night text
what’s up?

face masks
juicy gossip
girls' night with my sis

four to a room
interesting conversations—about
more than baseball

wasting time
hotel shenanigans
fire extinguisher fog

mom pays
when we go out for lunch
"always her baby girl"

deep fly to center
stretching out
shoe string catch

dancing queen
mother hangs clothes
on the line

neon lights fuel the night
always buzzing
just like you

light rain
dim taillights
against the grey sky

empty Polar Pop
full bladder
crying for a rest stop

always complaining
lighten up
buttercup

17 hour work day
my sensible shoes
begin to break apart

still pines
waiting
to scare my brother

highway stars
a kiss from
across the bench seat

your hand
brushes my thigh . . .
chills down my spine

a new dishwasher
the highlight of
my spring break

awake at dawn
the dogs don’t know
that it’s spring break

fuzzy socks
comfy bed
quiet rumble of a train

late night
swim . . .
in my tub

finally home
the cat
keeps its distance

Bulls game
front row tickets
for the other guys

catching up
over some hoops
old friends

worn bench seat
a leg . . .
for a pillow

my guardian angel
out of breath
asks for a new assignment

a cold empty field
wounded sparrow
lying just below thin branches

sunny shadows
my reflection
taller than me

gazing
into the starry sky
less empty than before

morning practice
a short jog
to grandma’s house

random questions
to keep our conversation
alive

squeaky sneakers
the professor
shuffles to the white board

gingerbread cookies
covered in cigar smoke
post-war Christmas

old red car
leaving high school
one last burnout

little red dots
from the murderous dentist
linoleum floors

a rare Lily
rolls into the courtroom
to fight for her life

the perfect place
to hide the bodies
window seat

a windy Wednesday
jigsaw puzzle
for two

longing for a warmer
tomorrow
first day of spring

elevator pitch
the aroma of pizza
nevermind, lunch?

facetime call
nightly ritual
will she ever learn how to use it

the images of each other
about us in the future
I seem to believe it

House Chambers
swarmed with visitors
time stops just to speak

showing my ID
the first drink
. . . legally

grandma’s funeral
i fiddle with the ring
that once belonged to her

a green lizard
stares back at me
where is your mother?

the cry
when I walk past
my new dog

the wind blows
rocking the chair
in your place

dog days of summer
filling
the cooler with ice

hurry
do ur makeup
bar in 10

baby squirrel
abandoned
now human

24 foot pontoon
creates a wake in its path
low and slow

different place
i’m just hiding
out here and there

waiting on the uber
don’t blink—
finish your drink

mowing business
I promise
we'll have money

two slabs of bread
grape or strawberry
you decide

a crying morning
straining my neck at
chirping birds

memories of
Saturday afternoons
baking with mom

finally in bed after
a long day . . .
the phone rings

summer night
concert
dancing after the sun goes down

looking out of
the plane window
deep blue below

four on the floor
her hand rests
on mine

feeding tube
slowly emptying — disappearing
into the child’s side

smell of fresh cut grass
pollen in the air
. . . benadryl

walking along the trail
i find an earring
lost two years ago

trying to move on
but i keep talking
to this cold marble stone

always
working during . . .
Friday night lights

no boys allowed
slumber party
blanket fort

bucket splashes
from atop the door
mom’s face

the hole
in the armpit of my shirt

my little secret

a wrong turn
in the cornfields
where am I

flickering
your smile shines bright
in the moonlight

slowly painting
our happy hour
can I look?