We’re going to see Molly in “Gary” at the Boston Playrights’ Theatre on Friday. If you click on the Media link on her website you’ll get to this week’s short Youtube skit.

Karen, her daughter, Annie, and Matt

Karen, Jacquie and Diane.

Matt and pesky godson fishing from a bridge in Menemsha.

Pesky and his dad fighting waves at Lucy Vincent Beach in Chilmark.

Matt and pesky godson fishing from a bridge in Menemsha.

Pesky and his dad fighting waves at Lucy Vincent Beach in Chilmark.

by Marge Piercy

Purple as tulips in May, mauve
into lush velvet, purple
as the stain blackberries leave
on the lips, on the hands,
the purple of ripe grapes
sunlit and warm as flesh.

Every day I will give you a color,
like a new flower in a bud vase
on your desk. Every day
I will paint you, as women
color each other with henna
on hands and on feet.

Red as henna, as cinnamon,
as coals after the fire is banked,
the cardinal in the feeder,
the roses tumbling on the arbor
their weight bending the wood
the red of the syrup I make from petals.

Orange as the perfumed fruit
hanging their globes on the glossy tree,
orange as pumpkins in the field,
orange as butterflyweed and the monarchs
who come to eat it, orange as my
cat running lithe through the high grass.

Yellow as a goat’s wise and wicked eyes,
yellow as a hill of daffodils,
yellow as dandelions by the highway,
yellow as butter and egg yolks,
yellow as a school bus stopping you,
yellow as a slicker in a downpour.

Here is my bouquet, here is a sing
song of all the things you make
me think of, here is oblique
praise for the height and depth
of you and the width too.
Here is my box of new crayons at your feet.

Green as mint jelly, green
as a frog on a lily pad twanging,
the green of cos lettuce upright
about to bolt into opulent towers,
green as Grand Chartreuse in a clear
glass, green as wine bottles.

Blue as cornflowers, delphiniums,
bachelors’ buttons. Blue as Roquefort,
blue as Saga. Blue as still water.
Blue as the eyes of a Siamese cat.
Blue as shadows on new snow, as a spring
azure sipping from a puddle on the blacktop.

Cobalt as the midnight sky
when day has gone without a trace
and we lie in each other’s arms
eyes shut and fingers open
and all the colors of the world
pass through our bodies like strings of fire.

For this to mean much you have to go back and skim this.

***************

I drove to the Nissan dealer in Marlborough for a replacement part for my windshield wiper -  the arm that connects the motor to the center pivot assembly – and paid twenty-nine dollars for a thin piece of aluminum with a plastic bushing on either end. The parts guy, Dave, asked me if I needed anything else.

“I’ve two sets of keys. One works the door and the ignition, which I can’t find, and one works only the ignition. If my remote dies I won’t be able to get into my truck.”

“I can make you a new key.”

“But I don’t get it. Why doesn’t it work in the door?”

“Your key has a slight bend to it; that’s probably the problem.”

“Then how can you make me a new key?”

“Have you had the truck serviced here before?”

“I bought it here.”

Dave went  to his computer and came back with the so-called key code.

“Ten dollars and I’ll cut you a new one.”

“Wait a minute. You mean if I were in Wyoming ( I was really thinking, Maine, in the backwoods, with the guys) and lost my keys all I’d have to do is call a Nissan dealer, or you, and I could have a new one made just like that?”

“That’s right. Better yet, I’ll print out the key code for you and you can stick it in your wallet.”

“I brought my truck in about two years ago for recall work, dropped off only the key, and the service manager called me the next day and had me drive back here to deliver the remote cause he couldn’t open the door. Why didn’t he suggest making another key?”

“I don’t know… .?

“He was an older guy. Nice guy. He’d had heart attacks, been in Vietnam…”

“That would have been Al. He’s dead now.”

For this to mean much you have to go back and skim this.

***************

I drove to the Nissan dealer in Marlborough for a replacement part for my windshield wiper -  the arm that connects the motor to the center pivot assembly – and paid twenty-nine dollars for a thin piece of aluminum with a plastic bushing on either end. The parts guy, Dave, asked me if I needed anything else.

“I’ve two sets of keys. One works the door and the ignition, which I can’t find, and one works only the ignition. If my remote dies I won’t be able to get into my truck.”

“I can make you a new key.”

“But I don’t get it. Why doesn’t it work in the door?”

“Your key has a slight bend to it; that’s probably the problem.”

“Then how can you make me a new key?”

“Have you had the truck serviced here before?”

“I bought it here.”

Dave went  to his computer and came back with the so-called key code.

“Ten dollars and I’ll cut you a new one.”

“Wait a minute. You mean if I were in Wyoming ( I was really thinking, Maine, in the backwoods, with the guys) and lost my keys all I’d have to do is call a Nissan dealer, or you, and I could have a new one made just like that?”

“That’s right. Better yet, I’ll print out the key code for you and you can stick it in your wallet.”

“I brought my truck in about two years ago for recall work, dropped off only the key, and the service manager called me the next day and had me drive back here to deliver the remote cause he couldn’t open the door. Why didn’t he suggest making another key?”

“I don’t know… .?

“He was an older guy. Nice guy. He’d had heart attacks, been in Vietnam…”

“That would have been Al. He’s dead now.”

Karen, at Shear Madness in Littleton, cuts my hair and came to our house and buzzed Diane’s head for nothing. She’s the best.

Maybe we are all mooned out, but here’s one of my brother’s  shots from his deck in Cambridge.

Nikon D 300
Shutter speed – 1/2 sec
F – 5.6
Iso – 800

Maybe we are all mooned out, but here’s one of my brother’s  shots from his deck in Cambridge.

Nikon D 300
Shutter speed – 1/2 sec
F – 5.6
Iso – 800