when we finally arrive,
every last one of us
bone-weary, at best
the first decision is
where to work. What part of
home do you give over?
What jigsaw puzzle piece of
your life becomes your work?
This time around, wiser if not smarter,
I let kindness choose. This time, not the
practical space of enormous table
in the mid-day cold of the poorly-insulated kitchen
This time I choose the thrift store table
in the living room, table I hauled home
and on a summer day
painted the table-top sweet blue
and the mismatched base jaunty yellow
now I position it by the windows and begin
Puff Of Smoke Poems 