Wine Tasting

Wine Tasting

A local elder grins as he toasts

our visit to the coast: “You can come

golfing with us tomorrow!” I think,

not even mini-golf and toss back

his grandfatherly attempts at flirting.

She lifts her glass to mine

as we smile ten years’ worth of

veterinary visits, cross country moves

and intermittent therapy.

Here’s to us in paradise.

Telephones Suck

Telephones Suck

I could call.

But you know, calling ought to

mean, “Meet me at Café Ardour”

or “wanna make me that dynamite

chana masala? I’ll bring the Pinot Gris.”

I would call.

But how can I distill my

latest adventure into sentences

with periods? How can you study

my face and inquire, “why that wrinkle?”

I should call.

But how many times

have we scolded, “Don’t

should!” So you would expect

nothing more or less of me—me.

I won’t call.

But I will let you (and the world)

know how much I miss you

and wish you 

were here.