This week’s Little Vines.
4749.
he sat at his desk
starched and pressed
like a white tablecloth in a pricy restaurant
4750.
do you have time for lunch
do you have time to bend your arm
and drink a glass of wine to celebrate with me?
4751.
is this a grocery list or a guest list?
to a few small lemons
it makes a big difference
4752.
the relieved gall bladder
stapled and repaired
leaves the hospital
4753.
Her wedding dress
the hem of the skirt sixteen yards around
the waist sixteen inches. Oh my.
4754.
You say you heard someone in this office admit
I’m out of my depth?
Sure you did, from the fish tank in the lobby. Please.
4755.
It’s been two years plus but
I guess I’m still waiting to hear that voice
say it out loud: I am dead.
4756.
a cake pan
battered and burned black
the memory of a thousand cakes etched into ite metal
4757.
motorcycle guy
if that is what you are asking
the mechanics don’t matter to me. Just the results.
4758.
the priniples of water and flotation
can buy us some time, yes, but
eventually we’re going to have to swim for it
4759.
we may think about it
but we don’t do it
that’s how we hold things together here.
4760.
the red-faced man
too shy to ask
and you never stopped talking so that he could
4761.
partial understanding
impeccable conclusions
how does she do it over and over again?
4762.
You talk
He should want to listen
He doesn’t. Do you get it now?
4763.
hey ping-pong ball
status yes or no –
just give me an answer one way or another, ok?
4764.
a bowl of
flake-picked pellets
and a fat happy baby
that’s what I like to see
4765.
I gained a more personal understanding of panic
once I had a baby in daycare
all the way across town from work
and a 5:15 pickup time
4766.
it could be evolving
it could be enthusing
or it could just be squirming
stop poking it
4767.
maybe sometime we’ll get together
the casual pallid invitation
that I cherished for its insincerity
since I didn’t want to either
Claudia McGill Writes Poetry, Did You Know That? 
I love the imagery in the first one because of its twist on the “stuffed shirt” type of person being even more stiff and rigid. The penultimate one made me smile as it reminded me of all the times in my life when I have “rescued” a wild creature that might just have been having a moment.
I have always thought starched dress shirts and starched tablecloths were so wonderful, smooth and clean. And then you wear them or use them and they relax into messiness. But there is that moment when they are fresh and new. Intimidating, yes, also stuffy, but a certain kind of perfection that I kind of admire! And 4766, same thing, how often do we poke a situation, person, or creature, to fit our own ideas of what is happening, when, it just might need its space and to be left alone!