The last thing I wanted to say

The first thing I want to say

-After a close encounter

With a dark-hued tomb-

Has its own joy de vie

Its Joy de le veda

And it comes out thus

-Emerging from the labyrinth

Of my fear-

“I can make it on my own”

You surely know though

That is in fact

The last thing I wanted to say

Your Long-Absent Son Here

Lost in the static of the sixties

Jesus and you

Could always be found

With a few tweaks

Of the dial

The love songs of the seventies

Played while I looked

For your replacement

One to make me smile

And be alert as I dreamed

Studious through the eighties

The seatbelt sign off

Free to move about the country

Turbulence ahead

Just as you had warned

Careering into the nineties

A little place in the hills

Early morning charges

Late-night hand wringing

Learning without knowing

Humbling with the oughts

Settling into time

More uncertain measures

Fewer ways of counting

How I might be doing

All this time…

Your love has shone

Like a lighthouse

Through fog and mist

More shore revelation

Than coastal smoothing

And now…

Your vessel sails

Near the craggy coast

And though I’m distant

I lift a flashlight

On my tiptoes

Happy Birthday, February

Happy Birthday February

Mardi Gras a few days out

The last full month of winter

Above latitude zero

Below if you turn the earth over

Not as cold as it was

Colder than it will be

No solstice nor equinox

Not that many days

No leaping 29th this time

The second month

Of another year

Resolutions beleaguered

Annual opposite of August

Cool nadir to warm apex

Days shorter than nights

But headed the “right way”

Snow days

Colds and flus

Nice jackets

Red on the faces

Of the homeless

Cycles and rythms

This far from the equator

Drink up

Drink up

We drink

To satisfy desire

For our health

For titillation

To end misery

We drink

Drink up

Relentlessly reasonable

My favorite people are relentlessly reasonable

Someone says get up at 3 am and drive until 10 pm

And this person says, why not two days and one night in a hotel

Because you won’t be worth a shit after you drive 19 straight hours

A stray gets the mange and a neighbor uses gasoline for ointment

And this person says, where did you get your vet license

From the Nazi School of Veterinary Medicine?

A can sits on the counter for days without being thrown away

And when this person comes to visit she says,

How much would it cost to get that tin can bronzed?

If you know someone relentlessly reasonable

Let them know how much you appreciate them

Take them out to dinner or something

But don’t pretend to forget your billfold, it won’t work

Reading Proust on the Porch

We are on the porch tonight

And I am reading Proust

Baseball is on if we wanted it

But the TVs are black and silent

Out here the night creatures call

The fan silently whirls

Cars and trucks identify themselves

And are soon gone

Replaced by a child’s high pitch

or a dog barely audible

This night it is too nice to stay in

Only a few nights in the Fall and Spring

Meet the standard for porch sitting

And Proust reading

If you want to get us, call our cell

We cannot hear in the house

And Proust is on my I-phone

And I am not thinking of other nights

Of slamming drawers and hurried meals

Of late returns from work

Lugging in the computer bag

Unpacking it for the morning's work

This night it is Swann’s Way

The Budding Grove

Cambray

And of course

That little phrase by Venteuil

As played by Odette

The national anthem of

This beautiful darkness

And the thoughts

I am having

Of Times past

People longed for

And porches with Proust

What if?

What if you were making guacamole?

Removing the last pit

Making it smooth

Sampling for taste

Adding more lemon

A little hot sauce

What if you were trying to memorize a poem?

The one about feathers and hope

Or the ice cream emporer

The distance yet to go

Horses heads pointed

Universe in another room

What if you were hooking up with someone?

You might think the only way to go

But you could be all alone

The way a woman I know said her husband was

Found by their son

Hunched over a laptop computer

What if you were flying in a plane?

Like the young lady from Brazil

So low so sudden

The plane having to land early

Them trying to revive her

No trauma reported

What if you were not even sick?

Just doing your thing

Hanging out

Trying to come up with the next big idea

Filling the time with a daydream

Making do for a few minutes

What if you were on the phone?

Maybe texting a friend

That’s what I’m talking about

Nothing much, you?

Then down for the count

No one around

What if you thought you were dreaming?

That nothing was real

As if you were sleep walking

As if this time had all been conjured

The hours fictionalized

The people from clouds