they come down from their gated thrones
ask for a typed page
or notarization

their eyes roll around my lopsided office
cracked steps
rusted roots
musty windows and happy spiders

i don’t have time, time for details
like spinning ewebs, crystal windows
or sinking sunsets

my plants are thirsty
but i place my stamp on their beloved page
or spin a resume
charge half price
then return to the flickering screen
the inbox and data entry

i recall my choice of business major
to dispel the family joke of being a
Basket Weaver

i type their jobs
calendar their dates
sticky web with its html is beyond me but i try
i try
and i am all tangled up

yet inside
a world away from all of that
i dream

i still dream

this poem placed 3rd for free-form poetry at the 2014 San Mateo County Fair

Art by Sarah Curtiss go to

Art by Sarah Curtiss
go to