The End of the Ski Trip (a poem)

I woke up to snow from the night before,

the world cotton and white.

And on the long drive home – south -  

the green pine trees, both sides of the road,

bowed toward my speeding car,

with weight of billowing clouds in their branches.

Welcome back. 

Welcome back.

The sun shone,

and salsa music played on the car radio.

I remember thinking “Who could wish for spring on such a day?”

 And then, on the edge of the city, I stopped for breakfast at a Denny’s,

where the service was lousy

and there was a long wait

and everybody around me was complaining,

or saying nothing at all

to each other.

I asked for a glass of water.

My waitress brought me a coke. 

And - to kill time - I photographed it 14 times with my i-phone.

I discovered that nobody

ever

can make half a glass of coke in a plastic cup at Denny’s

look beautiful.