Parasols in sun
beside a fountain
encircled by red
geraniums

deaden my senses,
momentarily,
to earthquake cries,
gulf oil crisis,

disappearing reefs,
suicide bombings,
this whole mad, mad world
and my dad’s cancer.

I fold my napkin,
smooth my white sundress,
pay a ticket, leave
a tip, then step back
into time on earth.