Nothing To Do With Thirty

From early words came poems, 

and bookstores became bookshelves, 

in classrooms and homes,

and in walked students like strangers, 

like mysteries, puzzle pieces looking for a border,

a starting point, a foundation,

and some pieces were pushed around 

until they began to 

recognize themselves in each other 

like first words that might 

begin with a glance, 

a half-smile, 

and grow into a sentence, 

and then, perhaps, 

even a poem someone might 

find in a book 

on a shelf in a 

room full of puzzles 

waiting to be put together; 

mysteries and strangers 

congregate in corner booths 

and afternoon roadtrips, 

looking for the next words 

to fall onto their laps and 

into their dreams...

And she’s going to yoga 

after eyebrows at 3:00 

More thinning tomorrow 

then chamomile tea

WW is no world war, 

but a revolution of sorts,

An evolution of ports,

of departures, arrivals and

mistakes so well planned, 

intentional breaks from convention, 

and did I mention

A reading list?

A mix of YA with PD,

A little bit of you,

and a little bit of me,

And of course 

I’ll be bringing you 

some new 

poetry 

but nothing to do 

with thirty.