e train westbound

i got on the train, and a lady in a wheelchair got on behind me. she was wearing a hat, and a coat, and had a quilt over her legs. i think she was sixty, but you never can tell. she had bags on her lap. when we rounded a bend one fell to the ground. i helped her pick it up. a corner of the quilt went up with the bag and i saw her feet. her bare feet, no shoes. her toenails were painted bright blue. 

i smiled, but i always smile.



cereal tears

if you try hard enough, you can do almost anything.

even when i try, i mean really try, i always miss you. especially when i read a sensational news story in the paper. and when i hear bruce springsteen. when the cat cries and when i can't find my clothes. it's all you.

most of the time i can smile it away but today i cried when i saw blue frootloops. 


future pending

One day when I am old I will live by the sea. My silver hair will be a mess of salt and curls. My freckles will disappear in to the folds around my mouth when I smile. The gold will drain from my eyes in the winter, leaving them the colour of wet leaves and saturated memories. The bottom of my pants will always be damp and my hands always cold. The moody skies atop and the manic ocean beneath.


 I will live on a rock in the pacific. Just off the shore. Red lights flashing in the night to alert the ships of their course. I will sit and watch the waves. Seeing glimpses of my past in each ebb and flow. I will be able to tell when rain is washing ashore just by the sounds the gulls make. I will wave to the fishing boats and swear I see mermaids in the coves. I will wish upon the starfish and watch the trees grow bigger with each year, as I do the opposite.

Lo's Toes..

where i read and write and eat and sleep and dream and watch and listen and cry. 


the island that gave me life

sunshine dripping all over my face. 
wind in my lungs
can't even breath.
heavy air, salty and smooth. 
mountains and tree skeletons. 


Asteraceae, metaphorically

If I were edible I would be lettuce. Green, crisp, cool, lettuce. 

I’m lettuce because growth comes easy to me. Adaptations to a multitude of situations. I change and I learn. I thrive, even in dire conditions.


I’m lettuce because I’m raw.  Unrefined and unedited. Natural and real. From soil to plate, I don’t require much preparation.


I can be sweet and I can be bitter. Dark or light. Diverse and versatile. You’ll never get the same bite twice.


I am layered. I am delicate. I bruise and I wilt. Handle with caution, store me with care.


I am lettuce most, not because of what I am, but because of what I want. I want to be the platform on which you shine.  I want to hide beneath you and let your flavors expound upon the palate. I want to be the foundation that brings the garden together. Alone I am lettuce, but together we make a salad.


I am lettuce. More than fine by myself, but I’m better with you.