Time – Haiku Heights



still opening our eyes –



©Wabi Sabi 2013

For Haiku Heights ‘time’


Kitchen Dancing

The radio played oldies all the time,
Beach Boys
Rolling Stones,
and Elvis,  
the music weaving the past into the present
coaxing the fabric of our shared life
into a safety net.
After dinner the kids watched their half hour of TV,
reruns  of Happy Days
and The Brady Bunch 
then they would run around 
like jungle-raised animals
 creating a rumpus in the rumpus room.
On a good night
you’d  wander into the kitchen
catch me at the sink,
spin me around
soapy hands and all,
and dance me back
 to that  smoke-filled hangout
where we listened to “Be My Baby”
sipping beer,
tasting and touching the only future
 our dreams could conjure ,
 far from dishes stacked on the counter
mashed potatoes drying into glue. 
We tried but we  never could quite maneuver  
around a  splayed out retriever  
tail flapping on the floor,
and soon we were discovered, 
“Ew!” “They’re dancing again!”
 the baby  jockeying for a spot 
 the dance becoming
a toddler sandwich,
you and I the bread.
When darkness arrived
and  the fabric ripped and tore,
we had to dance faster
the music turned to frenzy,
louder and louder until
we saw, finally,
that we were never the Brady Bunch,
oh no,
we never had Alice to do the dishes,
or all those perfect kids,
but we always  had kitchen dancing.
©WabiSabi 2012
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