woman at bus stop
san franciscan valentine
a total stranger
Poetry
woman at bus stop
san franciscan valentine
a total stranger
the first
morning we awoke together broke
fast on the first day of the first
month we talked of dreams and
planned our next re-
union. talking to the thai
order taker i heard vocalized in the re-
peated numbers a credit
to your kindness. registered. we
ate and watched stupid teevee,
wondering what resonates
enough to laugh. these
days repeated their thrust, pre-
dicting a sweet opening.
in this day and age
feels like i’m breathing liquid
sunlight between us
swift agent of change
loss is a preparation
just you wait and see
For Greg
two boys in parallel
two lanky bodies laying atop mom’s
long silver dodge caravan
roof rackless
recklessly in early spring boy love,
discovering how close bodies can be
without touching.
then, a hand, exploringly inches
towards the energy of another
man’s hand and
the first spark of skin belies the
resistance within.
yet still, there’s that thrill.
Glimpse
Into goodness and purity we leapt,
impossibility aside and full on. Rapture
like an ocean, available.
It’s good to know, and yes, to have
felt your arms and warmth
like a continent, solid,
but just as divided. Tender
is the rock that cannot be moved.
scanning for the moon when it she rises
full of hope and loss, life compromises
yes, summer,
I accept your grandiosities.
the relentless dusky colors,
the honeysuckle, the shrub rose,
ev’ry hilly meadow seems a dream.
how you show your stillness
is a whispy memory. so much bursting
and so much calm.
I wait for the road home to change;
I do not wait for the cold.
My partner makes himself a midnight snack.
Time only goes forward; it does not go back.
[to be read aloud whitman style] Flight 2033
first lynn, then winthrop and hull, little harbors, clusters of white boatlets and green trees like shrublets, the entire north shore against the vast blue, bank right, i knew we’d see ptown, but not the entire arm of the cape and the south shore, how it all connects, how simple it looks up here.
this is why i like travel, and why i love to fly: it simplifies and minimizes, brings everything into big perspective.
it’s a beautiful day to be up here, warm on the ground, little clouds and little lakes, and look, there’s providence, tiny tf green, a cluster of small buildings among so much water, and island of a town among the green.
i like flying because sometimes i like getting there faster, knowing there’s a simpler way, knowing we’re already above hartford and i can see clear through to long island and the smaller islands around it, shelter island, and beyond.
this is new england: some farms, some water, clustered towns, and so much green and so much blue.
perspective brings everything together and clarifies. connects that which seems disparate, a different state or highway, a different way of realizing everything’s connected.