CLS Sandoval

Fireworks, Your Family,

And Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream

 

Miles and Miles of long, blond hair

Encircle the room; streak out the door

Big Blue Eyes just stare

As I reach to pick her off the floor

 

Four generations gathered here

All at their own place in life

I assure you not to fear

As you release that look of strife

 

I offer salutations to faces with smiles

Who seem to want to know about us

You try to reassure me all the while

And I remind you not to fuss

 

We go outside to grill the meal

You compliment me to no end

With each look, my heart you steal

And to me, love you send

 

All the stress we face each day

Is left anywhere else tonight

Embraced in family, we stay

As we watch the fire take flight

 

I still cannot believe you are mine

I am my best when I am with you

Though I know it is and over-used line

I promise: it could not be more true 

Name Drop

I think Aubrey Plaza is taking my speech class. She shows up on Zoom with somebody else’s name in the left corner of her little Zoom box. But she looks and sounds exactly like herself. She’s absent enough for someone with a pretty busy acting schedule. Seeing her every lecture, or at least the lectures she is present for is bringing me back to the time that I practiced yoga for an entire 90 minutes next to Emily Blunt, and did not realize it until my ex-husband mentioned it to me on our way out of the studio. Or the time that Drew Barrymore stood in line two people ahead of me at the same yoga studio.  Or, when I realized that the stinky guy to my right in a Sunday night yoga class was Colin Farrell.  Once I realized it was him, suddenly his body odor was less of a stink and more of a relief. I didn’t have to feel so self-conscious about my own body odor. 

In class, I ask “Aubrey” if she and Jenna Ortega are secretly BFFs.  Though my student doesn’t understand my reference to the actresses’ shared presentation at the 2023 SAG awards, she does give me an Aubrey-esque deadpan stare.  A few other students get it and giggle.  One loses it so much that he has to momentarily turn off his camera.  I move on, as if I said nothing, but the Aubrey look alike stays on camera, moving so little that I wonder if she has switched to a static shot.

 

Polly Pandemic

 

I can only see half her face

 

She’s wearing a mask

it’s to protect her

supposedly from the virus

but it’s to protect her from everything

 

Her eyes look clear and focused

but she hasn’t quite figured out

the zoom yet

 

She wants to connect

she says

just as the Wi-Fi disconnects

 

It’s popular to say we’re sick of lockdown

But if she had it her way

she’s stay behind

closed doors

drawn shades

the computer screen

the mask

she’d stay away