Spring Fever and Tippy

Spring fever dulls my senses,
inner musings cloud over
as though cloaked in gauze
movements feel tippy
like the small white fluffy dog
in Robert De Niro’s arms
in my dream last night

what’s his name, I asked him
“Tippy”
 

A mug is dropped
soup is spilled
a second trip to DMV
deemed unsuccessful
again
though meriting
the orange parking ticket
slapped on my windshield

as I idly wandered
around Kingston
oblivious of the time
my bones relaxed
in the blessed warm cradle
of an early spring day