There are days ...

You know, it's amazing what happens when you let $350 worth of parking tickets accumulate over, say, a six-month period.

Want to know? Ask my son.

I spent more than a fair share of today bailing his car out of police impoundment purgatory --sent there by the nine unpaid parking tickets he'd accumulated. And then, of course, there was the tenth ticket he was receiving when he called yesterday -- as the tow truck driver was hoisting his battered little VW onto the winch. What with the towing charges from the city, the towing charges from the company, the state charges, the unpaid tickets -- we were looking at a $610 bill.

And how does one finance such a bill when one is broke? National Bank of Mom, of course.

So now, the car is in a different impound lot -- ours. The fee for release? Lots and lots of hard labor -- painting, mowing, gardening, and so forth. Ad infinitum.

I did go to my "Ladies Who Knit" group this evening -- and actually got some knitting done. On socks for me -- fall will be here before we know it at the rate summer is going.

For those of you who have requested poetry, I can only post previously-published work, or I lose a lot of ability to submit it elsewhere.

So, I can give you this one --

First Supper

Burgers glistening in grease
cheap fry – no steak
Table not set for four, but three
three forks
three plates
three milks, no scotch
at table or sipped
surreptitiously at sink
We eat – our first words clumsy
mouths lumbering
We’d forgotten how
not to sit in silence
not prompting rage
We’d forgotten how
to pass salt without
waiting for head to fall to plate
In this new empty space
our bruised voices
swell to chatter, staccato laughter
raucous peace.