Jon Erickson

Cheese

What I was mostly fed on
was bread;
then on a wintery morning,
because it was Christmas,
I walked what for my legs
were miles,
and when the grocer
weighed the cheese
he sliced off a slice
and gave it to me,
because it was Christmas,
and I could nibble it
the slow way home,
and there was the tree.

Pushed Envelope

Across the hot asphalt after a swim,
I opened the truck door and found "Jim:

I waited until all the kids left--12:35.
Call me at Hampton's. Can I see you tonight?

Martha." Tonight! And me not Jim.
Funny how Martha or anyone

could mistake my 20-year-old rattletrap
for someone else's. That and it started right up.

Mayport

Sea and harbor
and blue clear night,

moon without mist
and shadows of ships,

edges of waves
like edges of coins,

gulls, the barking
of the stevedores,

in the port it is
always spring.

©1998, 1999 Jon Erickson

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