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We’re on our own

                1.
We’re on our own
Looking back, here’s
where our roads clashed
Here they intersected,
here they cut or crashed
Seriously ill, the strongest thing he’d take
was aspirin because if he took the opium
they offered, he couldn’t think
It’s the littlest things, the serendipities,
the desired, the inscrutable yearnings
We act like dilettantes sometimes,
flower to flower, like bees

                2.
The first woman I made love to,
Carol, studied dance
She taught me that
the more I turned her on
the more turned on I’d be
She was serious about dance
but didn’t have that ultimate it in her—
not enough uncanny,
not enough wild technical savvy
She couldn’t let
her wondrous interior grace,
her intimate animal fires, dance

                3.
The forces that draw us toward
and away from one another,
are much stronger than us
The hidden qualities
the unique voids,
the fiery ardors,
the salient, valiant connections
The physical trainer with
her gray haired balding client is
happy enough but in brief moments
looks like she’d rather be
anywhere but here

                4.
When she hums to herself
Grandma hears the orchestra and her young voice
gorgeous in its articulated, classical French
“Fucking sonofabitch—bad reference?
Not only did he give you a bad reference,
he fucking called back ten minutes later
to bad mouth you again—
fucking sonofabitch!”
Grandma always took the leftover
restaurant rolls “for later” she said
Raised in the depression, she
knew hunger and didn’t forget

                5.
I thought I saw my dear,
late friend Patricia walk towards me—
her sophistication, intelligence, the lightness
of her gait; but the woman who
approached didn’t actually resemble her
Yes, the same shy vivacity but Pat wasn’t
blond— her pale skin and similar gait though—
So, what if it had been her,
would I be happy to see her again?
Then I thought “yes I would”
Though we never did connect
I’d be glad to see you again

                6.
Mom spent a lot, but she made a lot,
just like me
Rachel, remember when you and I fed
the pigeons in Venice?
We drank beer and fed them crackers
Good times for us like these
Grandma, whatever else, surely knew how to sing
Serious, focused, disciplined and optimistic
we all, depending on our sect,
have our ingrained visions of success
Together and apart—
hopeful, animated, unique

 

 

 

 

-December 26, 2015-