Short Ticketed Poems

Standing on the wrong side of the platform
  waiting for the train

Remembering the mistakes I made
  but not the reasons why

Listening for the truth beyond the excuse
  feeling what my thoughts would never allow

I boarded in the dark….

Ticketed, to a new and unplanned destination
  —fated, to a distant terminal unknown

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)...

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Dating, in many ways, 
is sort of like driving – 
one comes to an intersection...
there is a red and green, 
caution yellow for Slow
Down!~ Do you have a 
license?-- Frankly, at my
my age, I better like those
often ticketed and well
traveled...myself, no-longer
feeling time nor patience to
teach~ not willing to trust
my heart to modern GPS,
still preferring the twinkles
of stars.......

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Sometimes get stuck on a solo mission 
As the only ticketed passenger in sight 
But alternative routes are available 
We just need to book our return flight 

Begins by checking in with ourselves 
To take inventory of our baggage 
Choice in claiming what we keep
Option to offload damaged luggage

Purposely piloting our own plane now
Pulling levers to navigate any weather
Time to maneuver back into formation 
Since life is better when flying together...

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Turning right against the light’s
Illegal in New Yawk.
That rule’s observed by drivers,
Not by those who run or walk.

In other places, no such law
Exists, so often plates
Of cars which turn when they should not
Reflect their different states.

And that is why I was surprised
When, right in front of me,
A New York car ignored the red
And turned illegally.

What made it even weirder
Was the driver was a nun!
If ticketed, I wonder ‘bout
The story she’d have spun....

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