Today I’m pinball wizard and plain ol’ mom,

rolling fender to bumper through carpool

to piano lesson and market and home

again, home again, jiggedy-jog.

In the lush fuschia of this afternoon

couples hold hips on sidewalks,

sashay under live oaks, spring in love,

and I remember when we held up traffic,

pressed in the driver’s seat,  tireless

kissing while the light shone green.

I could bolt from this maze,

leap to a tabletop, shimmy, grind,

shake my feet like pepper on your plate,

luscious--if I didn’t need to mediate

another upset in the backseat--

spilled drink, a lost doll,

kicks and pinches two ways--

then behold the lambent eyes of our children,

the  paint-flecked wrists now risen

to protest  discipline and begin

a new hand.  My love,

Desire, I feel it even when

we both fall asleep on the couch.