GPS Girl

Take me away

Your voice is reassuring

Patient and firm

You know right where we're going

You sound like you're tall

And a little bit older than me

Your hair must be brown

Soft – to your shoulders

I like how you say “nine-TEE four”

There's a smile in your voice

I picture you here

Pointing and laughing

Oh! I turned too soon

You're recalculating

You sound irritated

Now, don't be upset

Please! Stop for a minute!

I can't make a U-turn!

I'll turn around soon

Did I hear you sigh?

We're back on our course

I can tell you sound colder

I picture you with eyes closed

Leaning your head on the window

Now we've arrived

You'll take me home later

You'll speak to the side window

And I'll drive in silence

Butterfly Bush

The botanists say

It's not supposed to survive

The harsh winters

But every summer

Out of the dead thicket

It races the forsythia

To the sky

For its August grand opening

Each pale flower cluster

A linen covered table

Set to feed an international clientele

That come in their

Saris and sarapes

And bright kimonos

Their boubous and kaftans

And tailored white suits

All are welcome

All are fed

An Exercise in Surplus Redundancy

Searching for a precious treasure

I found an old antique

Uniquely original

My buckling knees went weak

The little midget shopkeeper

Whispered softly in my ear

“It's in our discount sale” he said

“If I may be crystal clear”

“It's on sale!” I shouted loud

“I'll buy it now, today!”

And that is how, by lucky chance

This round globe came my way

Would you like to hear it over again?