May #18

Remember when 

I used to cry

during Grey's Anatomy

because I thought I was Addison?

Or Meredith?

Or sometimes both?

And remember when

each new week, each new episode,

always related to my life?

And sometimes -

since that was a while ago now -

when I still lived with my parents -

I would sit on the couch and squirm

as they talked about sex

 you weren't supposed to be having,

parents you weren't supposed 

to lie to,

friends you were supposed to like

instead of want to strangle.

I remember.

I don't cry now,

and I haven't watched a new episode in months,

but sometimes still I ache

for Meredith Grey. 

March #2

There are flowers
and pennies
and mugs and food
on her humble desk
along with tangled knitting
piles of books
scattered papers
accoutrement.
Nothing of permanence or of note
unremarkable
yet in each is hidden love and meaning.
the flowers from her parents,
a mental get-well card.
the pennies not only saved and earned,
but sometimes
a sign from some higher power
that she is not alone.
The mugs and food are of course
nourishment but once again a gift
from those who love her and wish her well.
Then, the knitting
and books
and papers
well
that's for learning,
in ways obvious
and in ways of patience.