On My 62nd Birthday
A dinosaur is dancing in the dining room at the end of its rope.
A green ribbon tether that ties T-Rex to his chair.
At the breakfast table my oatmeal & yogurt
waits, certainly not intended as bait for the bouncing carnivore
but, I assume, to tempt me into his reach.
Orange and toothsome, he wishes me a happy birthday
with a green-eyed gaze you canít escape, a little hungry
a little vacant. Just a helium balloon tied to a chair
on the other side of the table dancing in the breeze
with green eyes, inviting me to lift my leaden legs
to dance while I still have the chance.