bill russell

scratching
doesn’t stop the itch
in fact it makes it worse
but the possible relief
from this agonizing curse
is so damn tantalizing
it takes all my concentration
multiplied by ten
to keep my focus elsewhere
to find mosquito zen

we’re on this lovely island
in an asian sea
but dining in the open air
mosquitoes went for me
we knew the place was featuring
a fresh seafood buffet
but for those little critters
my legs were the entrée

welts the size of quarters
within minutes of arriving
covering my appendages
so i started striving
to focus on the dinner
to salvage some enjoyment
from the distance traveled
to this get-away deployment

the journey to this island
was not a pleasant trek
barriers of language
and pains in back and neck
from jolting over so-called roads
aback a mini-truck
exploring native culture
sometimes can really suck

our room is tasteful, lovely
exquisitely designed
bed canopied with netting
which always in my mind
i equate with elegance
but now i’m more inclined
to appreciate the function
of parameters outlined
with protection from these monsters
small though they may be
who seem to have a taste for
dinner made of me

the buddhists all around us
would deem mosquitoes good
part of life’s great cycle
oh if i only could
but i can’t see their purpose
only my distress
i hate the little buggers
guess i’m a karmic mess

my boyfriend gives me sudafed
to take away the sting
distracts me with a d.v.d
this room has everything
we’ll think of as necessity
when we’re back home again
but if you seek exotic
hope you find mosquito zen

(for my new husband
and long, long, longtime valentine)

like landing in green tropics
from the icy white of snow
you are a vacation
where balmy breezes blow

a sudden change of scenery
of climate
or of mood
a flood of new sensation
a shift in attitude

 can all be realized
without an airplane ride
just your entrance
on the scene
can put me in the tide
of gently lapping waters
of waving palm tree boughs
all the island fantasies
that get-aways arouse

in the dead of winter
or summer’s awful heat
you are like a weekend
at a swank retreat

or when the scen’ry’s sterile
generic urban sprawl
you’re a ride
in countryside
with a waterfall

we do love to travel
a passion that we share
but everywhere’s vacation
long as you are there

my carbon footprint
is very small
you’d hardly notice it at all
barely bigger than a toe
well a couple toes at most

i don’t mean to boast
or mention this to brag
global warming is a drag
and must be addressed

circumstances being what they are
living in manhattan
i haven’t owned a car
for over thirty years

so if i were to leave the lights on
for the rest of my days
it would barely raise
the outline of my carbon footprint
to include one more little piggy

 but i’m not an energy glutton

i do turn off the lights
i don’t flush every time i pee
forgive me
if that’s too much info

you’d rather not know
but if everyone followed suit
enough water would be saved
that certain droughts
would be nearly moot

 and i recycle

i print new drafts
on the back of old
refill water bottles
separate trash

i stash plastic supermarket bags
when i forget to bring ones made of cloth
and use them for garbage
instead of buying new

because i do make some small effort
at eco-consciousness
perhaps you will forgive
my occasional lapse

like dimmer switches
and fluorescent bulbs
few things are more aesthetically offensive
than the latter
which simply do not flatter

 i’m sorry
but lighting is everything
and harsh and bright
is downright cruel

 so maybe i’m a wasteful brat
but i can’t
i won’t
give up the reostat

on multiple fixtures in the place
’cause my deteriorating face
just can’t take
unadjusted illumination

and if that’s an abomination
more than an inconvenient truth
please remember
my carbon footprint is very small
and i’m really not that bad at all