Do you ever wonder

If the blue you see

Is the same blue someone else is seeing?

Or, if, when someone is cold

They feel the chill

The same way you do?

When I smell pipe tobacco

Amazing, wonderful, warm

Childhood memories emerge

For me.

The Wizard of Oz isn’t just a great movie

It’s warm popcorn in a bowl

In front of the TV with my family

A rare happy memory

Glowing in the darkness

Of a short-lived childhood.

If I could I would sit in the middle of Macy’s rows of perfume counters

Breathe in the smells

And be transported to a small one-bedroom apartment


Where I pick through jewelry stored in

Tiny plastic drawers meant for screws and nails

And sniff perfume samples in tiny plastic tubes

And try on scarves

And wish I could stay another day.

You might see an ugly old house

Where I see possibilities.

You let me inside

Gave me a glimpse of beautiful hardwoods

And then locked me in

Turned off the lights

And stood just out of my reach.

Sometimes I prefer talking to strangers;

I hold nothing back.


3 responses to “Minutia

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