[…]


Jennifer Dannenberg


In the car on the way to.  Seat-belted but no ignition. Indeterminate rain and
no forsythia here.  Combination of let’s get this over, and where will comfort be
now.

Abort vehicle mission.

Sidewalk’s dilemma, the old dog Bruno, tail and ears notched with wear.  He
sniffs my pant leg and I’m filled with a longing to touch the wide nose, but what
if he bites.

People with names like Ron and dogs like Daisy, adopted, indeterminate dogs,
walk the streets twice a day and always have something comforting to say like,
looks like rain.  Noticing a form of engagement.  They work in the Shipping Dept.
for many years and retire with a pension.

Lots of people want to retire and can’t so they put less effort.  They aren’t fired
up, nor are they fired.

Enter ragtag family, smiles wide on picture-framed faces skip to the tune.
Baby in stroller.  Jump out the way.  Big dog coming.  Loud in a way that
means happy.

Happy not things but happy to be out in the rain, happy the kitchen is a
sentence, happy the day is a paragraph, happy my brother’s lost tooth.

Some yards have plantings with rocks bought at the rock store and some really
need a jackhammer.  Think landscaping.

White magnolia in the spring not easily transplanted.  What are the rules, and
can we make it bloom. If the growth is satisfying do not worry.

What hangs over the fence more than compatible with the lemon tree on this
side.  On the other wild pale roses climb the trailer that hasn’t moved.  Nor
have we nor has she, head wrapped up in a view of the window.

Birds have spring in their throats, magnificent temporal air shot through with
blue.

Frequency of visits to the flower known only by the bee whose sole desire is to
touch color flaming on every surface.  It a day like some other, it a time in your
life.

No time to lie beside as lonely gets more lonely.  Go then click off the lights,
send heat flowing through fur-lined garments.  It’s spring in California and it’s
raining.

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