Free Tickets

I appealed to him dressed like a lady –
in skirt, blouse, curly perm.

A New Orleans local chauffeured
me around town, rattled on
about his life. He bought tickets for us
to hear Clifton Chenier, great Zydeco player.
Car backfired over a loud muffler.
Fire ignited under the hood. I bailed.

He muttered something about driving
his car home. Handed me the tickets.
I stood on the curb laughing.

Watched him zoom down the road,
fire smoldered upward
from cracks under the hood.
Smoke billowed out the back end.
"THANKS FOR THE TICKETS!"

Enjoyed myself listening to Clifton Chenier
at the downtown night club. Shook my buns
that night with two handsome tourist guys.

Grapes

A poem I read today
about a lateral lattice forging form
with the sun's shadows, reminds
me of living on Betty Circle.

My stepfather grew green and purple
seeded grapes on a white trellis
along a cinder-brick wall – terraces
separated by a chain-linked fence.

Diamond shadows shaped
by the sun, beamed through the fence,
made shade on the small garden
by the grapes and shadows on the wall
between the trellis's empty spaces,
leaves, and multitude of succulence.

I picked whole clusters, ate them unwashed
in the back yard until my belly ached.
Each bite a sweet juicy burst.
I didn't mind the seed's slight bitterness.

Skating

Remember roller-skating in El Paso,
two or three times every week?
Envious of local, competition skaters –
their speed and grace, strength, endurance,
I wanted to glide like them.

Did well to skate without falling,
cross one foot over the other
turning corners on the wooden rink floor.

Enjoyed playing games on skates.
"Put your left foot in, put your left foot out ...
put your left foot in and shake it all about ..."

My mother paid for lessons she could not afford.
I learned to balance, to push with one foot,
roll along the figure eight line, forward and backward.

I learned to Tango.

She remarried,
wwwwwwe moved to Las Cruces,
wwwwwwwwwwthat was the end of that.

Mayonnaise In My Hair

Ridiculous — that idea
about nourishing dry hair
with mayonnaise to help split ends.

Massaged it through my hair —
oily, slippery, lemony mayonnaise.
Let it sit — took forever to wash out.

Slipped, sliding in the bathtub,
sludgy as an oil slick.
Almost fell in the shower.

Legs flew haphazard.
Swoop! Swoop! Swoop!
Screaming — hysterical laughter.

Held onto soap holder,
faucet and handles for stability.
Hot water pelted my body.

Could have sprained an ankle,
busted a knee, hurt
my back, cracked my head.

Never do that again.

Waving Curtains

First time to move away from home.
Not a good living arrangement,
but some place to stay.
A singlewide mobile home.
Wagon Wheel Trailer Park.
Doña Ana road.

Quiet, sitting in a corner chair,
in the living room
by a window,
double pane slid upward.
Pleasant, cool breeze blowing
through the screen,
blowing a thin, lacy white curtain
in front of my face.

In a void, a trance,
allowing the curtains to wave
over my head,
tickle my ears, neck and shoulders.
I think this happened
before -- déjà vu.

The wind, carrying me
through a mysterious dimension.
I waver between
worth and worthlessness.
Curtains stop waving,
snap out of the spell.
Why do these things happen
when I am alone?

Calling My Name

Flashed on a memory
xxxxx in my youth.
Too young to understand,
xxxxx or be aware of
things uncommon.

xxxxx A building.
A school? A public place?
I recall
a long flight of stairs.

xxxxx Alone, climbing
toward the top.
xxxxx Late for a class?
xxxxx Felt someone peck
xxxxx on my shoulder,
xxxxx calling my name.
Was it an angel's attempt
to prevent my going there?
xxxxx I turned around
xxxxx but nobody there.
NO BODY THERE!
Nobody there.

Green Stick

Haven't seen one in years.
Hey, preying mantis, how
did you get in? Get down
from my kitchen ceiling.
Quick! Think--
before he scorches himself
on that light bulb.

Shhhhhhh! Screeching ladder --
you'll wake the neighbors.
Open this wide-mouthed jar.
Schroop, schroop, schroop!
Ouch! Hit my knee on the ladder.

C'mon, Greenie!
Gotchya!
Schroop, schroop, schroop!
Carry you across the parking lot.
Mmmmm! Kind of nippy.
Wish I had put on a jacket.

Schroop, schroop, schroop!
Dumping you onto the dirt.
Get out of there, sticky thing!
Shake, shake, shake!
There! You're not hurt.
Crawl up that post
to your light God.
Now I can go to bed!

Drifting Through A Fog

(On suffering writer's block)

A fog drifts through the gaps of my mind,
haze as a mist hangs between hills and valleys--
low floating clouds on a humid day.

Thoughts harbor in silence, suspend,
then chatter away about nothing,
about everything at once.

Cranial grayness filters the light, hides the crannies,
glides through a part of me that reflects
how my brain got stuck, dangled in midair.

I sit here dazed with nothing to write,
wondering where the next word comes from.
Must I cull utterance from my next-door
neighbor's cigarette smoke? So be it.

I'd rather grasp them from coolness
of my living room air conditioner. Maybe
that will blow away and free me from congestion.

Faith

it is when you lose dignity –
that voice from above
or inside you
becomes relevant
and you know its sincerity
a credence above self-doubt
strengthening allegiance to beliefs
pledging to make things better
and it gets better
if you commit to it
like an oath to others
plus support they give you
as you trust them to do
that helps regain self-confidence
your God-self
an internal faith
that keeps you going

Changed

I am not the same person
as ten years ago, five years ago.
I am still changing.

I made myself
an exposé of viewpoints,
opinions, priorities
because of different conditions,
tastes, level of thinking.

Growing older did that --
current politics and news, too --
where I'm compelled
to think outside
mainstream thought
thanks to those who educate
about those who suppress,
spread lies.

I roam and wander
through debris,
through mountains of issues
and tons of things that matter,
to find my merits
by virtue of those
who influence me --
through layers of life
still shaping me,
leads me to a perspective,
of what is yet to come.
Though I may be in fear,
I know I can overcome it,
I know I can change
my growth, my fire, desire, hope.
Someone once told me
"You haven't changed a bit."
Yes I have -- significantly.

Subject Lines

Spammers will do anything
as I've found on my computer,
depositing obnoxious email –
from misspellings to hilarious titles.
What makes them think
I will click on their spam?

Subject lines about "Viagra" – delete
"The Best Stock Picks" – delete
"Melting Away Fat Easily" – delete.

"Study Hall Dumpy." Wait a minute –
what on earth do they mean?
It must be a precarious place
to study my dumps. Gross! – delete.

"Boa Constrictor Boobs"
OK! Imagine a bare-breasted blonde
wearing boa constrictor head sculptures
as pasties over her nipples – delete.

"Your Needle Bath"
Ouch! I hurt thinking about
laying in a bathtub full
of sharp sewing needles – delete.

"Dysentery Deflection"
First of all, did dysentery
ever have a reflection? – delete.

"Waking in Sheets Teeming with Bugs"
That spammer is high on drugs – delete.

"FOSSEMODS" in all caps.
F O S S E M O D S
Is that the newest drug prescription
for today's fussy models? – delete.

(Author's note: The above spams are true.)

Guardian Angel

© 2008 photo and poem by Sue Miller

A friend crafted and gave me an angel,
made of gold foil wings, long blue
and white broomstick bandana skirt tied
at the waist, pea-sized pink and red bouquet
glued at the end of a twisted Tyvec arm,
a wooden ball for a head, rosy cheeks
on her light pine face, painted eyes
and an "L" for a nose, light curly blonde
bundle of hair with flair, yellow
garland for her miniature corona.

I have her suspended on a hook
by my turquoise door. I believe
she protects me from intruders
when I am asleep at night.
I believe she guards my apartment
while I am gone, repels
bad spirits with her other hand,
reassures me that things are fine,
gives me strength and faith to live

when I'm feeling tired or less worthy.

Clouds

Evening's cool breeze breaks
today's heat, penetrates holes
in my shirt to cool sweat
on my stomach, tickles
my neighbor's clanging wind chime.
A breeze that ruffles tree limbs,
sways a little girl's long blonde hair
and white dress as she walks
barefoot carrying her doll
through puddles. A breeze that rolls
heavy clouds toward Old Mesilla.

Clouds fracture, reveal bluish
dusk. Large white spider veins
and lightning bolts flash and split
the southern sky. A gush of rain
pours like a giant hour glass filled
with white dust. Traces of pink paint
the western side. Clouds with charcoal
and sepia undersides meet the setting sun
that highlights light ashy edges.
Swirling clouds form a mastodon
chasing a spinning poodle, collides,
dissolves as one dark mass.

A Grasshopper's Ride

Good morning, Mr. Grasshopper--
want a ride on my left windshield wiper
going south on Espina?
You can watch cars pass
from other directions,
watch students walk on sidewalks,
skateboarders roll through campus,
bystanders with headphones
push walk buttons at traffic lights.
Ha! a lawn sprinkler sprays
a fine mist on you and the windshield.
Let's watch innocent gray doves bob
their heads on the grass.
Oh no! I almost smashed
that low-flying grackle.

I can tell you loathed the experience
by your flinching wide-spread antennas.
Are you breathing?
Normally, I would knock you off by flicking
you with my thumb and middle finger
just to see how far you'd fling in the air.
Instead, I watch how well you attach
yourself on my car on the way to work.

Here, go hide in these well-trimmed bushes.
Welcome to NMSU, Mr. Grasshopper,
where everything is plush green,
where water is everywhere,
where trees bend or dust blows on your face.
But don't stand on the sidewalk;
you might get stepped on.

Traverse City, Michigan (ACE Conference trip)

© 2008 Photo by Sue Miller

I went to an Association for Communication Excellence (ACE) Conference during the week of June 8 through 13, in Traverse City, Michigan. This was a week of sessions, meetings, a tour and entertainment.

ACE is a professional organization of people who work in universities, government agencies and research organizations in the public sector, as well as companies in the private sector. Many work in Cooperative Extension. ACE members are writers, editors, photographers, graphic designers, videographers, electronic media producers, marketing and public relations practioners, researchers, Web developers, database programmers, distance education specialists, educators and managers.

I took lots of photos (just a few shared here). A display of boats rest behind Hagerty Center on the bay. The weather was overcast, nice and cool (cold-front chilly on Wednesday evening) and good storm later Wednesday night. It rained two or three times or more while I was there.


© 2008 Photo by Sue Miller

This is the back side of Hagerty Center. Many of the conference sessions and meetings were held inside Hagerty Center.


© 2008 Photo by Sue Miller

Nice boat!


© 2008 Photo by Sue Miller

I liked the look of this building called River Front Plaza in the downtown section so took a picture of it.


© 2008 Photo by Sue Miller

Early Wednesday evening ACE members had a social on the patio of the Holiday Inn (where I stayed). I joined a group of folks from North Dakota and Iowa. This brave mallard duck (I think it's a mallard anyway) kept walking around on the patio (probably looking for food).


© 2008 Photo by Sue Miller

Thursday afternoon I went on a tour bus that took a beautiful scenic drive up to the Sleeping Bear Sand Dunes of Lake Michigan. In the distance is South Manitou Island. Between Sleeping Bear Dunes and South Manitou Island is Manitou Passage. The tour guide said there still are unretrieved shipwrecks in the Manitou Passage. Literature I received mention the ruins of a wrecked freighter Francisco Morazan that can be spotted off South Manitou's south shore. I'm only going to show one picture here (because I have way too many photos).


© 2008 Photo by Sue Miller

After the Sleeping Bear Sand Dunes part of the tour, our tour guide lead us back to the bus to go up to the Sleeping Bear Point Coast Guard Station Maritime Museum. So I got lots of photos from there, too (only three pics shown here).


© 2008 Photo by Sue Miller

© 2008 Photo by Sue Miller

© 2008 Photo by Sue Miller

© 2008 Photo by Sue Miller

After touring the dunes and maritime museum, we came back to the hotel only to get back on the bus 45 minutes later to go to the City Opera House for dinner and entertainment. I got great shots of the painted dome on the ceiling and decoration just above the stage inside the well-preserved opera house.

Window Display (Gift Shop inside Dallas/Fort Worth Airport)

© 2008 Photos by Sue Miller

Stained Glass - Wyndham Hotel (El Paso, TX)

© 2008 Photos by Sue Miller

Stained Glass - Wyndham Hotel (El Paso, TX)

© 2008 Photos by Sue Miller

More Flowers (Women in Focus Camera Club Meeting - Terri's Back Yard - June 1)

© 2008 Photos by Sue Miller

Mother and Daughter

Now that I am grown,
the day is loud
with mother-daughter
voices speaking.
We have traveled,
hard roads, leading
to a learning road.
We share in wisdom
on rare occasions
that shed negative beliefs
that run our lives,
and we learn to tolerate
each other as we grow old.