loose at lunch

we learn
that the dog’s name is rita, and that she has gotten loose at lunch
as k and I are
sitting in the communal eating area on the third
floor of the old industry building that’s been converted into offices, trying to have a meeting about past conferences and future seed swaps, and
rita’s owner (presumably) chases the group of homeschool kids away from the long table so she can eat
lunch at her (presumably) regular spot,
so I ask her (rita’s owner) about what she does in the building (silk screen printing) and rita starts hacking up a cough under the table
and then all of the rest of the silk-screen-printers come to join her for lunch (or I don’t know who else they could be)
and it becomes suddenly impossible for k and I to continue our meeting, between the silk screeners
and the coughing dog
and the homeschool kids exiled to read their book in a different corner of the hallway so we retreat back to the office to continue talking about seeds somewhere else.

she breezes through

staffing the tent at the farmers market (for the first time) and a girl dressed in all black, (maybe seven years old) walks up and tells me straight away that she wants to play the seed game

i ask her to guess what the seeds are in each of the 10 mason jars arranged in front of me. so she breezes through the first two

pumpkin
            sunflower
then gets to the third one and lifts up the jar for a better look. hey no cheating i say knowing that they are all labeled on the bottoms,
and she looks up at me and says i wasn’t cheating. i never cheat. well, only a little sometimes just to be funny.

 

 

light at the back

when in the dream my sister disappears from the station and leaves without me for the train, and i am still at the ticket counter, emptying my pockets, scrambling for a photo id, and i can’t find my red backpack, no not that one, i say to the lady at the desk, almost in tears when she offers assistance, and then i am yelling
at everyone, and i am late,
for the train.

as many colors in spring as there are in fall, someone in the circle says and I find myself nodding, agreeing, especially aware of the reds and pinks and whites and greens and soft hues of colors i didn’t know were different from each other until they popped up side by side a few weeks ago.

sitting next to all the seedlings at the living room window before bedtime,
parsley
rainbow chard
mixed greens
pickling cucumbers
and
black plum
tomatoes,
talking to nd and kw about death and
dying,
feeling the tang of raspberry sorbet still on my tongue
and the intensity of the
overhead light at the
back of my eyeballs.