I was raised in the shoe family of Januzzi's Shoes. The ditty on the radio in the 80's went something like this: "All over the street, to happy feet. Get your shoozies at Januzzi's."

For some, they put on their writer's hat. For me, I wear my writer's shoes.


Thursday, May 30, 2013

Summer Love


Summer Love

Every once in a while
I fall in love
with a baseball player.

High school was spent
watching, waiting, thinking
one of them might cast their eyes
on me, and not the leather sphere.

A college roommate labored
as team bat girl and I witnessed
how she of blue eyes
could bat them
any direction and land a man.

In those many summers
I fell for The Stopper,
The Accountant,
The Nasty Boys -

how hat brim shaded the man
from fans as well as sun.
How bright white pants
gleaming in the mid-day rays
were pulled taut over thighs

How batted balls conquered fences
monsters then vanished
into lakes and bays and dreams.

How time stops
in that immortal moment -
pitcher in the wind up
on the cusp of his release,
batter in his pose
breath briefly held,
first baseman
cleats dug into hot dust
heart pounding in the pause.

In this cosmic alignment,
I am struck by love again.

Monday, May 13, 2013

A Memory Postponed - Breakfast in Bed


A Memory Postponed– Breakfast in Bed
AJW
5/12/13


Alone in a king bed
I wake
to footsteps
tiptoeing
down stairs.

A light sleeper,
I register each window shake
and sliding door creak.

But on this morn
little feet slap
along wooden floor.

The pantry door opens
and shuts
and opens
rustling of plastic
shatters silence in the house.
I am not supposed to be up.

A five-year-old boy
tells me,
I’ll let you know
when to wake.

But it is too late.
So I wait.

for my reward
which comes on a tray -
a bowl brimming
with vanilla pudding and colored Loops
garnished with raisins atop.

In one Sunday morning,
he manages to cover
three food groups -
and ground that
most men will not.