There is no music in my heart,
I am alone again with me.
This small space contains all.
My finger tips barely brush the walls.
Like a possum to an apple,
I tempt my mind out of the steel cage.
I work diligently at the mind's steel trap.
But wait, the walls are not of steel, but rubber.
Slowly space stretches, and makes room for me.
Tushie 1992
FRIENDSHIP
I have a friend, a good friend.
We talk and laugh, and drink black coffee,
From small silver cups.
she came last week, and the week before.
We talked about Manet, looked at her books on art
It feels as if she never left. Yes a good friend.
Even so, when she drives away, I feel a strange need,
to check all my fingers and toes, just to make sure,
I'm still, all in one piece.
Tushie 1992
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