Today I want to talk about regret.
You go first
                I said to the bloomless
                  Christmas cactus.

There is too much happy talk
about growing old
I said to the centennial oak
and he broke out laughing.

Regarding sex:
I am like my ten-year-sober friend who laments
the arrival of fancy beers – too late.

I’m sixth in line at the Apple store
standing out like a worm here
reading my book.

I threw a party last night.
Merlot and a full moon were invited.
If I remember right,
only clouds came by.

Okay, so we’re playing Scattegories.
I was losing to the hipsters
until we get to Birds –
Igloo Ibis, Carmichael’s Crane
Make it up. Win!

LeRoy has dementia.
Under the kitchen table he cannot figure
the way out.
Bark. Bark.    Bark Bark Bark.

Everyone wants a white Christmas.
Snow is like my young soul.
Who wants to be blinded by a field so bright.

After snow, water pooled in the birdbath.
Sun broke a wing of blue and pink above it.
Oh, the nerve of rainbows.