Time and time again/
I got told to chill. So I /
did, and caught a cold.

Wow. Just went to a small (200 people in attendence) piano/vocal duet concert. I could not BELIEVE the talking DURING the performance. I mean, I get it when a number is finished… but when someone is playing and singing, do you REALLY have to be whispering about … ANYTHING!?!

Is the need to talk/
so great that it must be done/
during a concert?

I’m fifty but still/
can’t open 50 percent/
of safe packages.

Talking with a Seattle friend about my experience, I told her that I’ve learned a lot about women in Utah, women in Arizona, women in Washington, women in Wisconsin. This haiku is the result:

It’s just me. Always/
it’s been me. Now I know it,/
it’s not any more.

She hemmed my pants for/
free. He brought them to me. Now/
I go out groovy.

Does it confuse you/
to be a muse? Better get/
used to it real quick!

A friend was complaining about feeling crappy (sick), and then she said “but it’s stupid to feel crappy about how crappy I feel”… and inspired me!

If you’re not gonna/
feel crappy o’er how crappy/
you feel, who e’er will?

On occassion I/
see blonde inspiration stand/
before me. She’s fun!
OR

Occassionally/
I see her inspiration/
before me. She’s fun!

Bad muffin surprise:/
you expect cranberry and/
bite jalapeño!

Seeing dance photos/
of you and me brings emos:/
What I wish would be.