The Supremes

It appears the Court’s divided
By a vote of 5 – 4;
And on the 4 side, one of them
Will soon be out the door.

It’s troubling for a liberal
When right-wing thinking rules,
Despite the saying “Over-30
Left-wing folk are fools.”

The female justices agree
Most often, and inspire
Some hope for me that things could change;
The same applies to Breyer.

As for Thomas and Scalia,
Roberts, Kennedy and Sam,
When I read some rulings that they’ve won,
I can’t suppress a “Damn!”

For we all are at their mercy
As they argue ‘bout the law
And the bulk of their decisions
Seem to stick inside my craw.

The highest honor in the land’s
Deserving of our trust,
But the justices don’t always make
A ruling that seems just.*

*this is not in reference to the repeal of DOMA

Sweat

Ah, the salty scent of sweat,
A powerful bouquet,
Infusing all with noxious stink
That will not go away.

Think locker room or subway car
Or summer’s sultry stench;
Olfactory assaults may come
On beach or bus or bench.

With spikes in the humidity,
Deodorants may droop
And unprotected armpits cause
Bacteria to swoop.

Then people’s bodies will react
And soon they’ll start to reek.
The funny thing is everybody’s
Essence is unique.

It’s kind of unavoidable
That odors start to bloom;
Since summer’s here, we should prepare
For negative perfume.

Filibuster

A legal way to stop a vote
Is something that may tax one’s throat;
A speaker has to talk for hours,
Using her persuasive powers.

There are rules they’ve locked in place
That Congressmen must all embrace:
He or she can’t take a break –
Sitting down – a big mistake!

Leaning on a desk’s taboo;
Other things you cannot do –
Have a meal or leave to pee.
(That would be the end of me!)

Filibusterers can drink
Milk or water, but I think
If a bathroom’s not permitted,
Drinking likely gets omitted.

Wendy Davis, Texas Dem.,
Spoke ‘til 10:03 p.m.
In her bright pink Fila sneaks,
She defied her foes’ critiques.

Though opponents sought a crack
(Like the brace for aching back),
Davis kept her fight alive,
Demonstrating guts and drive.

Nothing really seemed to fluster
Davis, on her filibuster.
She deserves a silver platter
Just for her amazing bladder!

Tour Bus

Watch the tour bus glide on by,
People up top, gawking,
While the guide is on the mike,
Gesturing and talking.

Wonder what the people think
When visiting the city;
Is their tour inspiring awe
Or envy, fear or pity?

Passing through, they catch a glimpse,
But there’s no way to tell
What life is really like in this,
The place we know so well.

Impressions formed with just a glance
Are perfect ways to start,
But longer visits are required
To tap a city’s heart.

And so I watch the bus go by,
The tourists all aglow,
Convinced that such a sojourn
Tells them all they need to know.

An Assortment

I am very indecisive
And so choices cause me strife,
Though when I reveal my problem
I’ll be told to “get a life!”

For presented on a platter,
At a friend’s house, after lunch,
There was not just one dessert
But many pastries, quite a bunch.

Thus, confronted with cannolis,
Carrot cake and pecan pie
And a towering red velvet –
Who could choose? Well, how could I?

A Napoleon was nestled
Next to some dark chocolate square
And of course, since we are healthy,
There was lots of fruit to spare.

So I narrowed down my options;
In addition to some fruit,
I had part of a cannoli
And some carrot cake, to boot.

Oh, if all of life’s dilemmas
Could be solved with such a taste,
Then the problems that exist on earth
Could simply be erased!

Above the Grand Canyon

I watched Wallenda walk the wire;
My heart was in my mouth.
I hoped that he’d stay east or west
And wouldn’t end up south.

I’m sure his nerves of steel were frayed
And though he risked his life,
I worried just as much for him
As I did for his wife.

For watching from the ground, I think
That we would all agree,
Those minutes must have felt, to her,
Like an eternity!

Katz's Deli

“When Harry Met Sally’s” most memorable scene
Was filmed in this eatery, where
Pastrami and corned beef are piled high on rye –
Indulge, if your arteries dare.

But here I’ll impart a sage word of advice:
Your ticket allows you to leave;
Misplace it or lose it and tsurris* awaits –
There’ll be trouble like you won’t believe!

You see, when you enter, a ticket’s proffered
And they punch in the price for your food;
That’s in case you line up at the counter buffet
Where the choices are there to be viewed.

If you sit at a table where waiters attend,
Then you still need the ticket to pay;
But my order was added to that of my friend,
Which we both thought was really okay.

So we got on the line where we’d settle the bill
And they asked for my ticket as well.
I’d left it behind, but our table was filled
With some just-seated starved clientele.

But somehow, my ticket was brought to the front
And they let me walk out of the door.
It’s lucky for me or I’d still be inside,
Washing dishes or mopping the floor.

There’s a lesson to learn – get the lay of the land
When you’re someplace you don’t know so well;
Or perhaps a distraction is what you can use
And, like Sally, just let out a yell.

*Yiddish for aggravation

Mayor Koch's Tombstone

Way before the Mayor died,
He planned out to a T
Exactly what the wording on
His tombstone ought to be.

The only items missing
Were his dates of birth and death,
Considering he didn’t know
When he’d draw his last breath.

But when he died, the headstone carver
Made a little goof,
And only after he was done
Did he get his reproof.

It seems he etched the year of birth
As 1942
Instead of 1924,
A harmless switcheroo.

But it’s ironic, don’t you think,
That there would be a glitch
When Koch mapped every detail
To go off without a hitch?

It proves we really can’t control
How others might behave,
But all who knew Ed Koch believe
He’s laughing from his grave.

The Bathroom Door

Do people close the bathroom door
When they’re at home alone?
If research has been done, I wonder
What results have shown.

The purpose of a fastened door’s
So privacy’s achieved;
Preventing someone’s barging in
Makes occupants relieved.

But what if no one else is there?
Then solitude’s assumed.
In secrecy, a person
May be emptied, bathed and groomed.

Yet certain habits are ingrained
From childhood days of youth
And breaking them is hard to do,
Plus sometimes seems uncouth.

So when I pay a visit
To perform a bathroom chore,
No matter if nobody’s home,
I always shut the door.

When Differences Converge

One’s idea of Heaven
Is another’s view of Hell.
That explains why many lives
Stay strictly parallel.

Rural folks may shudder
At the city’s crowds and noise,
While urbanites rank bustle
As among their daily joys.

Some plan for vacations
Which, to them, suggests a cruise;
Others needing culture
Might find such a trip a snooze.

Many go to dinner
And enjoy a juicy steak.
Vegetarians prefer
Their “meat’ when it is fake.

Sometimes choices intersect
And differences converge,
Providing just a little taste
Of someone else’s splurge.

It’s good to be receptive
To another’s choice or style,
Though in terms of what you like,
It might be off by, like, a mile.

Literal

Some folks thirst for knowledge;
Others seek release.
There are leaders on the lookout
For a path to peace.

Some folks crave the limelight;
Some reach for the stars.
Others try to bridge the gap
From Venus straight to Mars.

Metaphors don’t move me,
So when I think of thirst,
An ice-cold frothy-headed beer
Is what I think of first!

Helmets for Free

When biking in the city,
On the brand-new bikes for rent,
Bikers should procure a helmet
So their skulls won’t get a dent.

Thus, the city gave out freebies
In some lower-income ‘hoods,
But the people who reside there
Didn’t show up for the goods.

A reporter checked the scene out
And she interviewed some folks
With their feet up on the pedals,
Resting up against the spokes.

Though they lived in places posher,
Paying private schools’ high fees,
They were there to score a helmet,
As entitled as you please.

Seems that life’s not quite in balance
When the haves keep getting more,
With the have-nots sinking lower –
Doesn’t anyone keep score?

Sir Paul

I was a “Paul” girl, back in the day;
That’s how we defined ourselves then.
I knew that he’d love me if we’d only met,
But that seemed more an “if” than a “when.”

I never attended a concert of his –
Neither solo nor Beatles nor Wings;
Yet I’m sure I remember the lyrics and tunes
Of the bulk of the songs that he sings.

Since today is his birthday (my brother’s, as well),
I reflect on a very strange fact –
At a recent performance by Sir Paul himself,
The arena was not fully packed.

As time marches on, many young folks don’t care
That the Beatles were practically gods;
So McCartney now plays to a non-sold-out house –
I would never have bet on those odds!

Nappin'

I started nappin’.
How’d it happen?
I was really zonked.
The sun was beatin’
Temps was heatin’
And I simply conked.

It stands to reason
In this season
Weather can be drainin’.
And when it’s muggy,
I feel sluggy;
It won’t help complainin’.

Still, supposin’
I was dozin’
That is just confusin’.
Daylight hours
Give us powers
Never meant for snoozin’.

Guess with agin’
We’re engagin’
In a losin’ battle.
Vigor shrinks
And forty winks
Ain’t nothin’ that should rattle.

An Outdoor Wedding

When someone plans a wedding
And the venue’s out of doors,
There most often is a back-up
Just in case it rains or pours.

If there’s not, it’s rather daring,
Like a gauntlet has been thrown;
Will the gods take up the challenge
Or leave well enough alone?

So the wedding I attended,
In the evening, on a roof,
Was a testament to chutzpah
And the party was the proof.

Though a rainy week preceded,
It was glorious and dry,
With a breeze to stir the senses
And a sunset in the sky.

As we watched the glowing couple,
Filled with love we all could see,
We just shook our heads and marveled
At the absence of Plan B.

Mother Nature gave her blessing
So we danced and dripped with sweat,
Feeling giddy with relief
That we weren't soaking wet!

Avocados

The first time that I tasted one
Was in the Promised Land.
One bite and my horizons
Very quickly did expand.

I ate them smeared on crusty bread
With just a little salt
And when I’d gained a dozen pounds,
I knew what was at fault.

And yet I kept on eating them,
With chips, as guacamole,
Well on my way to turning into
Someone roly-poly.

As years went by, I lost that weight
And now don’t stuff my face,
But avocados still retain
A flavor I embrace.

If you have never tried one,
You’ll be filled with sweet surprise,
But be careful or when shopping,
You’ll go up at least one size!

Clockwork

Just three hours, to the dot,
From when my breakfast ends,
Some hunger pangs begin
And their intensity ascends.

It doesn’t matter what I eat,
Though I have my routine;
My body runs like clockwork
Or a well-maintained machine.

Assuaging all that grumbling
Doesn’t take a three-course meal;
A little snack is quite enough
To set an even keel.

Three hours hence, it starts again
And so I nosh or graze.
A token nibble shows who’s boss;
My stomach then obeys.

I’m fortunate my hunger pangs
Are never that severe,
For after several morsels
They just seem to disappear.

Shopping for Shoes at Century 21

A store in New York City,
Selling “bargains” at top price,
Lures the locals and the tourists
Seeking upscale merchandise.

Yet their famous shoe department,
Always crowded and self-serve,
Is so customer-unfriendly,
It hits every single nerve.

From the samples set on shelving
Much too high for short folks’ eyes,
You choose shoes that are appealing
Then you try to find your size.

All the pairs reside in boxes,
Shelved below the model shoe;
If your size and style are waiting,
You’re among the lucky few.

You remove your shoes while standing
(Seats are scattered, never free),
Slip the new ones on your feet
And start to waddle, for, you see,

Every pair is linked together
With a sturdy plastic band;
And when both feet are ensconced,
It’s hard enough to even stand.

Look around to find a mirror
(Yes, they’re also short of glass);
Shuffle slowly, like a geisha,
Or you’ll fall flat on your ass.

Then repeat with all your choices
‘Til you finally decide;
Wait in line and start to wonder
If this treatment’s justified.

But of course, you’ll be returning
To repeat the same ordeal,
For deep down, you’re just delighted
That you really got a steal!

Areas Unknown

People often like to stay
Within their comfort zone,
Wary of a crossing
Into areas unknown.

Though the unfamiliar
May be tempting and exotic,
It contains some risks
Uncomfortable for the neurotic.

So we eat and dress and drive
And stick to our routines,
Envious of those who have
Adventure in their genes.

Things familiar make us feel
Secure in all we do;
How lucky are the people
Always up for something new.

Lights Up

Summer’s time to take a break
From work, from home, from school,
By traveling to someplace new
Or lounging by the pool.

If may be only for a week
Or for a month or two,
But it’s an opportunity
For more than barbecue.

The longer warmer days support
A change in our routines.
Our shorts and tank tops take the place
Of turtlenecks and jeans.

The weather even alters meals;
On lighter fare we dine,
With lemonade or ice-cold beer
Or sips of chilled white wine.

It’s good to take advantage
Of this annual transition.
If life’s a play, then summertime
Is surely intermission.

Unglued

The mind holds many memories
Which cling to it like glue,
A storehouse of forgotten facts
You hardly knew you knew.

But as we age, the files get filled
And when we try to store
New knowledge or experience,
There isn’t room for more.

And that explains why I just read
A novel I’d once finished,
A little hint to let me know
My brain cells have diminished.

For just like old adhesive
Will no longer do the trick,
There comes a point within your brain
When nothing new will stick.

The Tears in Rafa's Eyes

Nadal came out on top today,
His eighth time at the French.
He looked relieved and quite composed
While sitting on the bench.

And when that silver trophy
Was placed firmly in his hands,
A roar was heard from all the crowd,
Rejoicing in the stands.

He kissed that bowl and raised it high,
His face lit up and beaming.
I’m sure it felt surreal, a bit
Like he was merely dreaming.

His calm remained until they played
The anthem of his nation.
To Spaniards watching, this was cause
For quite a celebration.

When Rafa heard that music start,
His eyes welled up with tears,
For patriotic feelings flowed
Commingled with the cheers.

A brilliant day of tennis set
One champion apart,
As we bore witness to
That Spanish pride within his heart.

On Seeing "Mame"

Some things would be better unsaid.
Some fads never should have survived.
Some books would be better unread.
Some plays never should be revived.

I saw a production today
And this show failed my comatose test.
If the years aren’t kind to a play,
My advice is – just give it a rest!

Know-How

Things we think are obvious
Some others may not get.
If a question’s raised,
There should be no cause for regret.

Simple explanations help
To clarify what’s meant.
Often what’s interpreted
Is far from the intent.

How one states intentions
Can cause discontent or pique,
Not illumination, which is
What the askers seek.

Wording and inflection
May change innocence to vice;
And challenging one’s know-how
May make questioners think twice.

Fathers' Day Cards

Fathers’ Day’s around the bend
And so I need a card.
With all the choices, you would think
It wouldn’t be so hard.

My dad is gone but still I buy
A greeting for my spouse.
The cards were so pathetic, though,
I really need to grouse.

The “husband” options either were
Too gushy, fake or sappy,
With poetry inside that sounded
Mawkish and plain crappy.

The “funny” cards made references
To grills or farts or sex;
It’s like the writers had
No witty brain cells they could flex.

To find a simple heartfelt card
I searched through every shelf;
It might just work out better
If I made a card myself.

Leftovers

Eat out in a restaurant
And when your meal is through,
There might be some left on your plate –
So, what are you to do?

Ask them for a doggie bag
Or say it’s for your cat;
Admitting it’s for lunch tomorrow
Likely will fall flat.

My husband’s mother told him that
The waiters eat what’s left,
So if he finished everything,
The staff would be bereft.

Of course, that isn’t really true
But then again, who knows?
A lobster or a sirloin
May be purloined, I suppose.

I always take what I don’t eat;
Why should it go to waste?
And since I’m paying, I’m the one
Deserving of its taste.

But people either take their food
Or tactfully refrain
And if you try to change them,
Your attempts will be in vain.

Another New York Day

Flashing lights emergency,
The police cars in a row.
Ask what’s going on and hear
That no one seems to know.

Fire engines block the street;
Cars have been diverted.
Soon the press trucks will appear,
Once they have been alerted.

Just another New York day,
Though tourists stand there gawking;
Natives give a glance and then
We shrug and keep on walking.

*this poem was in yesterday's
Metropolitan Diary column 
in The New York Times. 

If Only

If only there wouldn’t be hunger or pain;
If people would only stop fighting.
If only we’d lose a lot less than we gain;
If only the bugs would stop biting.

If only there wouldn’t be sorrow or grief;
If neighbors would cease to be strangers.
If only there wouldn’t be rapist or thief;
If only the world held no dangers.

If only all hatred would just disappear;
If soldiers went home with their rifles.
If only the positives would persevere,
Our worries would merely be trifles.

If only’s a fantasy, fairy tale, dream –
Impossible, then, for achieving.
If only more chances were there to redeem,
Then we pessimists might start believing…

Ninety

Ninety on a test is great;
For weather, it’s too hot.
Everything is relative
And either good or not.

Ninety as a bowling score
Is really rather low.
Golfers would be mortified,
At least those going pro.

Ninety is what models weigh
To reap their dividends.
A ninety-pointer would be sweet
When playing “Words with Friends.”

Ninety dollars some might spend
To dine out on a meal.
Hotel rooms for ninety bucks
Would really be a steal.

Ninety’s sometimes wonderful
And other times, upsetting;
It’s ninety-plus degrees right now
And yuck! I’m really sweating!

Watching the Spellers

They stride to the podium, nervous and tense,
Their confidence levels in check.
The depth of their knowledge is vast and immense;
Their opponents are waiting on deck.

The judge gives the word and they pause to digest,
Then they ask for its source or its root;
A sentence is given if that’s the request
And the part of speech offered, to boot.

You look at their faces and see the gears turn
As their studying comes into play.
The hours they’ve devoted, just so they could learn
What they’d need to compete on this day.

And then they begin, every letter pronounced;
With assertiveness, slowly they spell.
The judge gives a nod or an error’s announced
By a ding that’s the sound of farewell.

I watch them in awe – they’re so young and assured,
Even taking their losses in stride.
They’ve sacrificed pleasures but somehow endured
And I hope they feel nothing but pride.

Their prowess won’t get them too far in this life,
But at least they’ll know they can compete;
And in later years, if they’re confronted with strife,
They’ll remember they’ve conquered defeat.