Happy Bad Poetry Day

Two licensed drivers
in my house now, and yet I’m
still stuck bumming rides.

Yesterday was a busy AND successful day. Because Rachael only has one class (plus vet science) until college courses start on the 24th, she decided it was time to bite the bullet and take her road test. She got her permit July 9, 2014 and didn’t feel confident enough for the road test. You know you have a great friend when she drives you and your mother over to the MVD to renew your permit. So permit was renewed before our trip to California and we got to see the new Terminator movie that day.

Once we got back from California, Rachael practiced more driving, but didn’t get much done parallel parking. She wanted to take the road test August 4th before school started, but panicked. Finally this past weekend with triple digit record temps, Rachael and dad spent plenty of time parallel parking.

August heat record
mercury’s rise in reply
tired of melting

And after I heard word she passed and we were celebrating with Pei Wei, I was shocked to see dad pulling into the driveway. It seems she was done driving for the day, the road test was nerve wracking enough. Plus she had vet science in the afternoon, so mom and Gretchen still needed to bum a ride for the orthodontist.  We walked over and Nonnie was able to pick us up after work and bring us home.

Behind driver’s wheel
Proctor sits in passenger seat
Press on gas and peel

Hot Summer Days – Prose Poem

Dog days of summer… August enters hot, humid, sticky. Time to stretch out in the sun except summer days have drawn to an end. School is back in session. Students trudge down to the bus stop as the sun beats down taunting them. In the afternoon no time to dip toes in the pool. Algebra is calling. Pi…not the sweet strawberry rhubarb kind tantalizing taste buds. A number in a mathematical equation – A equals pi squared in August when the temperature is 110. Teachers blow hot air about circles. Students dream about pi with an e a la mode. Ahhh…Hot Summer Days.

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How Writers Write Poetry exercise 12 my attempt at a prose poem. Apparently Gretchen’s math class is already working with pi. We had a discussion a couple nights ago about why 3.14 is the only decimal number with a name. As far as we know anyhow. And why pi? Of course, I’m a poet not a mathematician. Mom is little help in these conversations. Maybe Aunt Kati knows.