Renewal

My library book’s not nearly done;
I haven’t close to finished.
I’m deep into the story now,
My interest undiminished.

I tried renewing – they said no,
Somebody has reserved it.
That person’s gonna be let down,
Although she’d not deserved it.

For here’s my choice: to give it back
And never know the ending,
Or pay the fine and violate
The contract tied to lending.

I’ll pay a daily quarter,
Though my record it will spoil,
So I’ll be able to complete
The latest Roddy Doyle.

They used to give three weeks to read
And now it’s down to two;
When life is busy, time slips by –
There’s nothing I can do.

So future reader, please forgive –
Your book will be returned;
And meanwhile, patience is a virtue
Hopefully, you’ve learned.

That's The Way It Goes

When I complain, my husband says,
“Well, that’s the way it goes.”
That statement doesn’t help
But has some wisdom, I suppose.

Complaining doesn’t solve a thing,
But it feels good to vent;
Perhaps preventing kvetching
Is my husband’s sole intent.

Yet “That’s the way it goes”
Is not an answer I can grab;
Instead of getting comfort,
I’ve received a little jab.

So here’s a message to my spouse
And all of likewise mind:
Complaining is a right enjoyed
By all of humankind.

And some complaints are well-deserved,
As everybody knows;
For those, we shouldn’t have to hear,
“Well, that’s the way it goes.”

Waiting for Confirmation

I registered for courses –
You’d think they’d be online –
But snail mail is the way they go,
And usually, it’s fine.

My friends all got responses.
They’ve gotten all their classes;
And I am getting more upset
As more and more time passes.

I sent my form in promptly;
I hate to blame the mail.
I called the office and they wouldn’t
Check the paper trail.

There’s not a thing that I can do
But sit around and wait,
And hope a positive response
Will soon be on my plate.

Grim Encounter

On an early morning walk,
Adjacent to the river,
I passed a hooded figure
That elicited a shiver.

He, or she, sat on a bench –
I only saw his back –
Yet New York sensors in my brain
Said, “Something’s out of whack.”

The day was hot and humid,
Even at that early hour,
So seeing a black sweatshirt
Made my inner wuss just cower.

He looked like Death, seen from behind,
I noticed with alarm;
And in my paranoia,
I felt he exuded harm.

I passed him both ways on my walk,
Both going and returning;
He hadn’t budged, though part of me
Wished that his head was turning.

For curiosity cropped up.
I yearned to see his face;
But thinking that he might well turn,
I hurried up my pace.

It’s sometimes better, as they say,
For sleeping dogs to lie,
And so I heeded that advice
And simply walked on by.

Buying a Gift

There is often an occasion
When a present is required,
But to purchase something perfect
Is a skill I’ve not acquired.

For it really should be something
Rather special and unique,
Often waiting to be spotted
In a local hip boutique.

But you take a chance to buy it
Where it cannot be returned.
The recipient might hate it –
That’s a lesson I have learned.

Better, then, to search and locate
In a trusty big-name store,
Just the item that you’re hoping
The givee might well adore.

If she doesn’t, there’s no harm done;
She’ll return what you did get ‘er –
And, with gift receipt in hand,
She’ll pick out something she likes better.

Though I really hope my gifts
Are worth the effort I extend,
It’s the thought that really counts,
Especially to a good friend.

Drip

When I sleep with the windows wide open,
A rare summer night – no A/C,
The noises put out by the city
Come wafting nine floors up to me.

I don’t mind the taxis or buses –
Folks need to be taking those trips –
There’s only one noise that can drive me insane:
That’s the hammering dripping of drips.

Above me, the tenth floor apartment
Has the A/C cranked up to full blast;
I do not begrudge them their comfort,
But my sanity’s vanishing fast.

For their unit lets loose, like a heartbeat,
A drip uncontrolled, like a sneeze;
It reminds me of some water torture
Someone said was used by the Chinese.

For the drip-drip-drip-drip is incessant;
There’s never a pause or a break.
It’s now three o’clock in the morning,
And I’m lying in bed, wide awake.

The city’s not known for its quiet;
That’s not why I live in its grip.
I’ll sacrifice space, calm, and comfort,
If only there wasn’t this drip!

School Supplies

You know the summer’s over
When you see before your eyes,
Ads in all the papers
Advertising school supplies.

Get your notebooks! Paper! Pens!
Book bags! Markers! Tape!
Everywhere you look,
You are bombarded - no escape!

Be the first one in your class
To fill your teacher’s list!
If it feels too early,
All your doubts should be dismissed.

‘Cause once the stores have school supplies,
The summer’s at an end.
Since it’s hot as blazes still,
It’s hard to comprehend.

Advertisers like to move things up,
But I remember
Years ago, when Christmas lights
Were put up in December.

And school supplies were not on sale
‘Til close to Labor Day.
We cherished the illusion
That real life was far away.

But now we have a short reprieve
And then it’s time to plan
For getting back into the groove –
Forget about your tan.

I’m not a student any more
And do not even teach,
Yet ads for school supplies
Can leave me yearning for the beach!