Plea for Reconsideration

Public figures we are:

Tall and poised we stand,

Sentries of common and uncommon domiciles.

Although we have both passed the century mark,

We are strong, willing & eager

To live at least a century more.

We have no birth certificates at town hall,

No social security numbers,

Or drivers’ licences.

‘Lest you think we are passing the hat

At this holy time of year,

Fear not the bells of charity mongers!

All we ask is sun, rain and good drainage,

And at least another hundred years-

You see—I am an ash tree and my friend 2 streets away

Is a maple.

RDB

12/17/1995
published in ProJo South County section

Hundred Dollar Poem

Saga of Rowena: Feelin’ no pain O how’ll I ever sustain?

IwishIwishIwishIwerepartofthesky,

TherewouldbeNOBANKZ

No safeway cashiers robbing you blind so you can eat in winter,

No landlords aknockin’ at your door for dollars and cents,

My money has burnt a hole in my mattress…I am cold lonely and

Broke and all I have to sleep on is an ash heap.

Even my refrigerator it sings the blues for butter and eggs

I do not understand these people- these dentists and barbers and

Abortionists.

They take what you have and it is still not enough. They want

Your goddamned money, too.

But I have a heart of gold I’m told

Free of dollars and cents

O Don’t let me be your dollars and cents baby.

I am not a cash crop. You couldn’t buy me at a store.

(They chose me out of a hospital window, Sweetheart, and they

made sure to pick the only one with a rose tattoo)…

O I am but a crazy woman

I would jump out of planes if I could

I’d play my cello till the sky turned yellow

O I am a naked woman in the mountains…they’ve taken my

Body, now they want my soul

I’d go to Venus and Jupiter on my P.F. flyers. I’d wear silver

And pink, paint my body effervescent blue. For you.

I would keep 72 mutt dogs

And 99 beds of roses on my kitchen floor.

I would grow artichoke hearts in my oven at an even temperature

And have faucets that leaked lime daiquiris and green rivers

To the thirst wanton fields.

I would live inside a volcano at sea

And marry a fire swallower to take care of me…

Saga of Rowena: broke and lonely, eating the blues for her dinner…

-RD

Roxanne's Turtle

I rarely have a bad day on the job. Earlier this week I had a memorable great day: four children came in and one girl named Roxanne was their self-appointed spokesperson. They were on a mission. The construction foreman at a local home-building site put a turtle into their hands and asked them to take care of it. He’d found it under a log. They wanted to identify it and learn how to take care of it. They quickly identified it as a box turtle from the pictures in a book I pulled for them. They were without their library cards and with grubby hands, so I printed off box turtle care instructions from a reliable internet site. Roxanne scanned over it, and then read it aloud to the group. I asked them, it they possibly could, to bring the turtle by so I could see it, as I love turtles.

Lo and behold, several hours later, one of the children came running in and asked me to come out and see: they had followed the instructions to a T. The handsome box turtle was in a large nearly clear plastic crate with two inches of dirt, a few nicely placed rocks and several raspberries. And, he was happily munching on one of the raspberries!
A small crowd wrapped itself around the turtle in keen admiration. One gentleman named Mr. Guy, explained how, in his Native American culture, the 13 big sections of the turtle’s shell represent the 13 months of their calendar year, and that the 28 small sections encompassing the bottom edge of the shell represent the days of the month.
The turtle was a beautiful one: it had bright yellow markings and was a full-sized specimen, about six inches long and three-and-a half inches high. I hoped the children would release it before too long and a few days later, when they came in, they told me they had and it ventured off into a nearby field.

The whole event happened so quickly that it never occurred to me to take a photograph. However, I have a wonderful memory of those children, the handsome turtle, and Mr. Guy.