Monday, November 29, 2010

The Hall Sisters: Circa 1994

We knew our
whole world
was about to change.
I cried the entire
four-hour trip
to campus
and the two of you
held each other
in the living room
all morning.
We were
letting go of life
as we knew it,
knowing that we
would survive
the changes ahead
but not knowing
exactly how.
We had been together
all of our lives --
through every move,
in every new house
and every new city.
We shared friends and
hobbies and teachers.
Now we would be
in different states
with 207 miles between us.
I opened your letters
like beautifully
wrapped packages
and read each one
between nose blowing
and cheek dabbing.
I think I used
an entire box
of Kleenex
driving up to Michigan,
thankful that I didn't
decide to go to school
in Portland.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Just One of Those Things

It's strange --
funny, really --
that one
woman can
walk into
the restroom,
lock her
stall door,
create a
mammoth sound
from one
tiny hole,
and walk
out of
the bathroom
in silence.

Tuesday, November 09, 2010

Holy Sit

When I take my seat
in the bathroom,
I am participating
in one of the most basic,
yet marvelous
human functionalities.
We have been created
with a remarkable
self-cleaning service.
(Who but a master
designer would have
conceived of this?)
So, when I sit
on the john and
take a dump,
something holy
is happening.
I am at once
connected to the
brother and sister hoods
of the earth
and to God.