Summer Simplicity

As summer begins to
close her eyes in
exchange for fall's
awakening, I want
to remember these
days; what it feels
like to slip into
sandals, and hop into
the car without a
jacket and drive to
meet some friends
with Tennessee's green
hills in front of me and
the sun on my back.

(Just as my fart makes)

Just as my fart makes
its way out, my co-worker
makes her way in to the restroom.

Twenty-year-old Tweens

My first kiss that counted --
the first pair of
lady lips I latched onto --
was stolen.
We were both good
little Christian girls --
young adults, really --
who had accidentally
started to fall in love.
She drove seven hours south
to spend seven summer days with me,
with my parents' blessing.

Little did they know --
little did we know --
that the previous months of
late-night, collegiate
cuddling and snuggling
would culminate in
lesbian lip-lock at last.

Interwoven on my twin bed
like a French braid,
I leaned in closely
and whispered,
"What would you do if I
kissed you?"
Half taken aback
and half titillated,
she returned my whisper,
"I don't think you should do that."

A split second later,
in my childhood bedroom,
I snatched a kiss
from her full, light brown lips,
as soft and as supple
as a baby's hand.

I leaned back to read
her facial response.
She looked
half shocked and
half pleased.

"You're a good kisser,"
I reported, as the
endorphins surged through my
twenty-year-old tween self.
"You're not so bad yourself,"
she admitted with a sly smile.

(The tomato: A)

Although I did not claim a prize in this year's Tomato Haiku Contest, I enjoyed creating entries like this:

The tomato: A
veritable fruit salad --
grapes, plums and cherries

(tomato ballad:)

Although I did not claim a prize in this year's Tomato Haiku Contest, I enjoyed creating entries like this:

tomato ballad:
rejected from fruit salad
rosy to pallid

(Banned from the fruit bowl,)

Although I did not claim a prize in this year's Tomato Haiku Contest, I enjoyed creating entries like this:

Banned from the fruit bowl,
Music City heartbreak fuels
new material

(bracing myself for the smell)

bracing myself for the smell
that will, no doubt, result from the sound
I just heard from the stall next door