Leafing through a book

This poem was originally written on 7/02/2007 The softly falling gently gliding pages that fall from my hands. Eyes that glimpse mere words that mean nothing yet something as they fall away before I can fully grasp them. I smell dust and mold and a newness of the press but I cannot fully know that which…

The Birthday Cake

She had already burnt the cake twice. He would be here in an hour and she had yet to make the perfect birthday cake. The doorbell rang. Guests were arriving. She struggled to whip the cake batter once more. Everyone was there when he arrived, cheers and hugs and tears. They all sat down to…

When East Meets West

1.5 miles. That’s the longest the line runs. Caught between two paradoxes, it creates the distance of the haves and the wants. But on this 4o feet wide, 1.5 mile long line, it meshes into a clash of both. High-rise luxury with the dirt and trash piled next door. “Grand Opening” and “Going Out of…

Stage Fright

“When you get married all you have to look forward to is walking the dogs,” he said. He wore a brown tweed suit with the matching tie, socks the perfect shade of suede. You know, the type that spells money. He sipped on his chardonnay, twirling the liquid in a contemplative glaze. “It’s great to…

Tribute to the middle class

Cheers! to the calling of life, the gossip, the talk, the day to day boredom that leaps at the edge of everyone’s tongue. “Did you, so and so, no way! For how long? I never knew that, aren’t you the one who…” A “catching up” of sorts, they say. A chatting of the 9-5, the…

The Homeless of D.C.

This is part of a series of posts on observations and people I meet in D.C. While based on actual events, it is a creative writing exercise and not 100 percent accurate. They’re the real residents of D.C., always present, always ignored. She sits in her wheelchair and jams out to headphones in the middle…

Yoga with a dash of trumpets

This is part of a series of posts on observations and people I meet in D.C. While based on actual events, it is a creative writing exercise and not 100 percent accurate. They rise and fall in unison, an athletic tribute to the drums and horns blasting 10 feet away. Most are women- tight pants, plain…

The Park

This is part of a new series of blog posts about the strangers I observe and meet in D.C.  It’s the busiest park in the District. Hundreds of birds roost in the towering trees, swooping down to peck at the Bird Feeder’s feet. He’s there every morning with his Washington Post and bag of peanuts he…