Emblem

Blue language tells a twisted tale.

Larvae in an apple could conquer the world.

Plot thickens around an ungracious soldier.

Pluck tail feathers from the holiday turkey.

Put a hurt on a gang of snowbirds.

Police the property with all hands on deck.

Goofy twanging country tunes filter high above.

Toppling carob leaves on a circular emblem.

The Good Life

Should I start to count

The fingerprints on my glasses?

The glasses I see through

Or the ones I drink from?

Should I play

A hand of pinochle

With my grandpa,

In the sunroom of his

Manufactured home

In Barefoot Bay,

Thirty years ago?

Once around the neighborhood

On my grandma’s tricycle,

As contentment rises

From each wheel.

A sunny day by the pool,

Playing shuffleboard—

Yeah, that’s the good life!