Late to be out

A MISS rolled along the street, decidedly waxy,
LURCHed into a nearby bloke, gave him a
SAUCY grin, and greeted him all
SHOWY.  He gently smiled, sent her home in a taxi.

Tainted

AMISS. Adaze. Awry. Adrift.
SHOWY neon, flashing screens. A step is a
LURCH. A venture a fiasco.
SAUCY boast before ruin.

Try It

AMISS from my usual fare, this
SHOWY table is a gastronomical
LURCH into new possibilities of
SAUCY entrees with French names.

Ordinary Graces

KNEAD each day’s dough and
DALLY in the slowing slips of time. Mine
AMAZEment from ordinary veins of rock. Mirage
IDEALs will have you blinking and next you know it’s all gone.

Empty Spaces

CEDAR chest of records in the attic:
RUMBAs, Bossa Nova, sheets of sound,
WIDOW enjoyed the listening, but her husband queued them up.
TITHE of memory has tripled, the present will soon be tithe.

ISSUE there was none for them, are the memories her children?
MOUNT Yesterday recedes, is all to be downslope?
OVOID remembrance; might it hatch a new life?
SANER ramblings unsettle less, yet are uncharged with hope.

WOMAN fumbles through the actions of the morning, toasts a
BAGEL, makes the coffee, always too much coffee for one.
SUPERimposesd are scripts and sounds with him.
ARISE. Somehow walk into an empty day, and wonder if its spaces might fill again.