Rabbit, Rabbit.
May brings some notable endings. It’s the first day that it hasn’t been National Poetry Month for the past 30 days, and the first day that there is no organized month-long community writing group occurring. The Stafford Challenge continues, but Slice of Life and VerseLove have concluded for the year. May also brings the end of the school year for students and teachers, and there is a strange sense of winding down and gearing up all at once.
I’m ready for that pause. I have friends retiring this year, and there is a strange mixture of both fear and envy for them. I want to be at the point where I can load the camper and take off for two months and see parts of the country I’ve never seen, just my husband, our three dogs and me. My limited time in the summer, for this year, I hope will satisfy my traveling itch for the coming year.
Today’s paint chip poem is one that I wrote when The Poetry Fox, Chris Vitiello, visited my town. We sat together at the oval table by the window in the far back corner on the night of his visit and wrote several together, then shared. I saw the avocado green paint chip and went straight back to our 1970s kitchen on St. Simons Island, Georgia at 208 Martin Street, where the washer and dryer sat at the carport end of the kitchen.
Avocado Kitchen
avocado kitchen ~ matching
wall phone with a long cord
for those 1970s Velveeta
grilled cheese
Wonder Bread holy sandwiches
the kind made
in a cast iron skillet
by Mama with her black beehive wig
and sleeveless white and yellow daisy
button-down and green Pappagallo strap
sandals while she flitted about
and flipped the toast in the butter and
gossiped with her cigarette-smoking
friend Bonnie Jean about that new
lady vacuum sales rep who
brought skepticism and raised
eyebrows of all the wives…….
Common Threads 