NEIGHBORS

their
hair in pink
plastic curlers

stand on
front lawns
like flamingoes

gossiping

attired in
pink chenille robes

and
foppish slippers

–Judy L. Brekke

ICEBOX

we stand at edge of a cliff
wind blows through our hair
the cliff side is steep
below are railroad tracks
mother forbids us to go there

we watch in the distance
a green panel truck
drive up a dirt road
stop at the door
of our one room house
driver carries with tongs
a huge block of ice

we know mother is busy
with the icebox
she will not look for us
we climb down
the rocky dirt cliff
we wait for a train

–Judy L. Brekke

AN EVENING AT THE THEATRE

The limo pulls to the curb.
Her first husband was in the air force.
A yellow jacket makes her hair stand up.
He plays the saxphone under the trees.
One child in yellow dress dances at the street pole.
He wouldn’t even cut the umbilical cord.
She ate cheesecake with cherries.
This is what you win when you work for Mary Kay cosmetics.

She opens the door of the limo.
A man with muscles,
a tight black t-shirt
stretched across his chest,
climbs out.
A cherry sprays water
over the gardens.
Black clouds bring out
umbrellas and hustling patrons.
Cindy Lauper and Cher will be here – oh my god!
Doors open to the theatre.
A mass of colors and sizes walk through the doors.

She closes the door to the limo.
Rain drops fall
but not under the trees.
She extends the umbrella
in order to keep her cigarette dry.
Coffee, gin with ice,
cherry red lips savor the taste of it.
Her pointed bright yellow shoes
match her hair.
He puts away his saxophone
only to bring it out again.
Holding the umbrella
she smokes in the rain.
Thunder cracks.
Drops of rain enlarge.

The limo drives away.
She just got out of the hospital yesterday.
A car seat for the baby was placed
in the wrong spot of the back seat.
Two men hug, smile, walk together.
The wind blows empty coffee cups.
She needs her ticket to obtain the hearing aid “thingee”.
A lightning flash,
the lights go down,
the voice speaks of cell phones
and pagers.
Music blasts.
A play begins.

–Judy L. Brekke