by Steve Michaels

water stored in glass
real sugar and strait-edge
rave. the finer
things she craves when sun
beats futilely against winter's

Smiling into windows
gazing from peoplesmilinghurried
street, it's not about where two
lines meet or points
diverge, not even kitty whiskers
or a brain engorged, it's

the finer things in life
dog paw giggles and twigs
in her shoe
grocery lists, edamame and intricate
math, puzzles bought over covers
aglow and that one time
(maybe ten years ago)
screaming down a wiry line

foliage be damned "I'm
flyin!" No. that's not it,
it's the
finer things, the higher
road, a hushed smile and
brushed back hair
that point where brain
meets air, no..

white noise, warmth
heartbeats, nuzzles
waking at midnight, sleeping
through the morning

crunching toast, nervous
silence, friendly
hand, finger twine
here it is

here we are

this thing is fine


Author's Note: Yes!

Posted on 11/13/2013
Copyright © 2023 Steve Michaels

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Veronica Phoenics on 12/12/13 at 09:33 AM

i love the intense and dizzying rhythm here, it frames the words beautifully and the whole read is quite an experience, immersing the reader into this world.

Posted by Jim Benz on 12/20/13 at 11:54 PM

This thing is indeed fine. I like what you've been writing lately.

Posted by Johanna May on 02/05/14 at 11:24 AM

this is a testament to previous scars and a new saviour, I understand why you cannot take these allegedly mundane thins for granted, water is delicious to the thirsty xx

Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 11/16/17 at 11:29 AM

Steve, this is one of the finest poems I read of yours. Congratulations on POTD.

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