Heartpen: Poems of a Cardiac Quill

Daffodils and June

This semester's counselor,

Mrs. "Call Me Margaret,"

clicks her pen . . .

clicks her pen,

looks like

a female version of Fred Flintstone,

and reeks of peppermint.

Rows of perfectly trimmed triangular trees

line her walkway

and she has framed Barbra Streisand quotes all over her office.

"Does your situation make you angry?"

the counselor says.

June answers, "Yep,"

convinced it's the answer

that typically spares her any cross-examination.

"It's okay to be angry,"

Mrs. Fred Flintstone consoles.

June thinks, No duh.

Spring

brings

daffodils.

Out on the lawn

there is a shiny slide

in the midst of them.

Made of crude steel,

the slide has too much friction

and your clothes stick to the metal

as you slide

down the shiny slide.

"Is there a part of you that

feels isolated?" inquires Margaret

of the prehistoric town of Bedrock.

"No. I mean,

I did feel isolated, a little, maybe, at first.

But no more.

Nah. Yuck. No more. Gross. Ick.

What time is it?"

June is careful to speak without speaking.

"Okey doke." Margaret's voice gets higher.

"So is there anything else

you'd like to talk about?"

Margaret is trying to be gentle.

It makes June uncomfortable, but she hides it,

like she hides pretty much everything.

She pretends to consider the cavewoman's

most tempting of offers, then replies,

"No . . . thanks!"

As a tot June wasn't allowed much TV

besides the Flintstones for some reason,

because Mom said

cable was so satanic.

June's parents raised her the best they could,

imperfectly but indefatigably:

church weekly, cozy holidays,

lots of ski and camping trips.

Why do labors of love bloom late,

So you haven't a chance

to thank the planters?

The counselor June should

probably stop mentally associating

with Wilma's yabba-dabba-do-yelling husband persists:

"You know you can always ring my office?"

June salutes militarily. "Roger."

"Okey doke, young cadet.

See you next week.

Tell-your-sis-hi-for-me-okay?"

Doesn't the last bit

of that farewell always come out

so fast?

June is quite on her way out. "Okay, Mrs. . . . Margaret."

Hopefully next session

she can bring herself to be more cooperative,

she thinks with unexpected eagerness

and unexpected sadness

as she treads the diagonal tiles

of the walkway with the perfectly

trimmed triangular trees.

Her new mom's car looks

like a turtle

hiding in a shell.

When June and her new mom

are together they are silent.

From the car radio, as they drive,

Billy Idol sings something

about faceless eyes.