jrlewis's blog

Home and Garden

Island life is hard on a house                                     sitting beside a shed named Mouse House.

How like a horse is a house,     

                                     tender I                 wonder.  

                                                                  Where is the boundary between wild and wonderful?

Swelling plants

                      will swallow the water hose whole.

Dwelling place

                      cobwebs are the burglar alarm for daddy long legs. 

Nantucket Island never lost electricity,

Though winds swept sand into my eyes and the sea spewed.

It wasn’t the perfect storm, Hurricane Sandy.

Murray’s Liquor was last Main Street store to close surely; 

The pharmacy counter got tipped twenty for food. 

Nantucket Island never lost electricity

Sand bagging the strip was proven unnecessary;

Below the sidewalks well-behaved floodwaters brewed.

It wasn’t the perfect storm, Hurricane Sandy.

Brussels sprout stalk in the fireplace were pretty smelly,

But my best friend insisted firewood should be valued!

Nantucket Island never lost electricity!

A cottage in Madaket was swept into the sea;

Residents weren’t surprised, the owners subdued.

It wasn’t the perfect storm, Hurricane Sandy.

Posting flood photographs on Facebook makes New Jersey

Friends worry about me, while waiting to be rescued.

Nantucket Island never lost electricity;

It wasn’t the perfect storm, Hurricane Sandy.

Craving-

Bay scallop leaves

Harbor for boiling water, bay leaves

White wine, yellow onions, potatoes, corn, butter,

Cream, garlic, salt, pepper, parsley, and

More thyme.

The not last taste

Overlays scallops and corn

Of Zea mays var. saccharata out

Of season, there is no sexy way to say I miss you

Words discarded with shells at Jetties parking lot

The shellfish

Is always selfish in chowder. 

Still, try to see the blue bowls garnished with parsley,

And pats of butter on beautiful cold days. 

Recipe for a specific experience. 

Oh Iowa sweet!

Become my yellow-white bouquet summer man.

I am the three-dimensional problem represented by the two-dimensional graph. The derivative tells the story of how a function changes as its input changes. The function is why is the narrator. The first derivative of gives velocity, the second acceleration, the third jerk, the fourth jounce.

The derivative of the function at a particular point is equal to the slope of the tangent line. You only need two points to plot a straight line. Now, how to determine the equation of the line? (y = mx + b) B is the y-intercept; the point where the line crosses vertical axis. M is the slope, rise over run. Slippery slope? Slippery brain? Slippery brains fall easily in love. B told me I had a sexy brain. That is the best compliment to a neurobiologist.

Begin with B robing me in terrycloth and brewing fresh coffee. We sat in his air-conditioned garage while he smoked an American Spirit. Inside, B simply handed me a toothbrush. It was shiny and new and he gave me a travel case too. I keep it on my bookshelf.

X gave me a toothbrush last night. He instructed me to leave it on the nightstand on my side of the bed. The plastic and cardboard packaging was misshapen. I teased X about who used the toothbrush. The bristles felt too soft. His brussels sprouts are perfectly soft. X’s been rehearsing this for days, I know. I was sad.

What lies between B and X?

This is only one tangent; there are infinitely many more…

Cup a thought,

Iced venti unsweetened iced coffee. 

This is the story of a writer,

And a barista

Watching you

With one American Spirit per ten.

Watching me

Growing,

As for flowers and horses, writers

Must be watered. 

First coffee with

Cream and the barista man.