Whenever we would go back home,
I tried to act my very best:
Say “sir” and “ma’am” and all that stuff,
So all of them would be impressed
At what an x-year-old I was.
They’d say, “That’s nice. Go play outside.”
Thus I learned my inconsequence:
To them, ‘twas just their patience that
I’d tried
She was the autumn: elegant and kind,
But full of loss. The colors turned, and so
Did she; to coming wintertime resigned,
And pensive in the glade, the interglow.
The too-much gift of nature sometimes borne,
Until the leaves come off, and days grow dark;
The comforter who slips away to mourn,
On solitary walks out in the park.
She was so much and yet so little known,
Admired, but not really understood —
I see her there, as fallen leaves new-blown,
Out on the edge of fall, within the wood.
She was the autumn: kind and elegant —
But life came hard; she folded and then
Went
They tossed a Frisbee back and forth
Out on the college lawn;
Their only labor on that day
Was jumping after mis-throws.
I watched them through a window-pane
For several hours, straight,
A book that I was reading lay
Mostly uncomprehended —
And as I watched these other guys,
Whose names I didn’t know,
I looked around me at
My fallow dorm room, new
(My roommate I had yet to meet)
And wondered if I’d ever get to know them.
A junior transfer, me, I was
Both worried and excited:
But feeling like
I’d walked into the middle of
A play, one which
The others saw a first act that
I’d missed.
Another friend came out to join them,
And he brought three cans
Of something they all sat awhile and drank.
And I was like a kid again
In still another neighborhood,
Watching another set of boys
And hoping for an invite.
Looking down, I noticed that
I hadn’t turned a page
Of Dandelion Wine
In quite awhile,
The world was autumn-ready,
And I guess that I was, too,
In my distracted way.
Another moment of my ever-long
Distracted
Way
The winter stars came out that night
To smile on us, and sing —
We watched our breath in clouds like smoke,
Our faces coloring —
We sang our carols in the snow,
And glided towards the dawn,
December in our hearts, we watched
Until the stars were gone.
We went back with our families,
Each one to different lives;
That village now, a different place.
But this one thing survives —
A memory like yesterday,
And I can guarantee it:
The winter stars came out that night
And we were there
To see it
breezes blowing clothes hung on a line —
it makes me think of you —
colors waving banners in the wind,
just like we used to do
we were breezes too were you and me,
a random dance in motion —
we were every wind that’s every blown,
and every last emotion
breezes blowing, summer has to go:
such is the path of living,
where you are today i do not know,
but nothing needs forgiving
for you did the best you could with me
before your time for going —
now and then, though, i’ll still think of you
when i feel
breezes
blowing
I guessed that I was drunk; I’m pretty sure I was
I was twenty, there was a party
I remember the room being full of dancing couples
(The song was “True” by Spandau Ballet)
I was the only one not dancing
Being a mathematician,
I realized I was literally “the odd man out”
And attempted to calculate the probability
That one of the couples would fight
And the girl would turn to me out of spite and anger
Which seemed reasonable to me in that state
I gave the couples two more songs to have spats
That didn’t happen
Several of them seemed closer to having children than disagreements
So I left
Up the stairs, down the hall
To my dorm room
Keys on the table
Unsteady and only partially focused
I mused as to the outrageous un-fickleness of women
And how much I had wanted to dance to that song
Which is not something I would have
Guessed
The beach was empty, early,
It was just before the spring;
The calm before
The tourist season storm
My walk was three point seven
Miles. Yes, I knew it well,
For early morning walks
Were then the norm
I wasn’t wearing headphones
For I liked the ambience;
The Gulf of Mexico
Makes quite a sound
And one can act the fool
In joy and wonderment when one
Thinks no one else is
Anywhere around
Of course, that day, the empty beach
Was not quite empty, for
You were there in a chair
Beside the sea
And I did not see you until
A minute passed or more
Of you observing strange,
Erratic me
I saw you with embarrassment,
You didn’t seem to mind.
All ninety-seven pounds of you
In state
I said, “Hello. I’m Owen,”
And you answered with a laugh.
And now, three decades later,
Strange is fate:
For I’m back on the empty beach,
The spot where we first met.
You’re far from here,
As far as one could be —
But we’re still friends, of thirty years.
We’re both grandparents now,
Yet somehow
Still a boy and girl
To me
On an old stone bench
In the worn green grass,
We told our tales,
And dreamed our dreams —
We ran there together
On an old dirt path,
Then went our ways,
And joined our teams —
For love is shy
But youth is brave,
And every hour’s
Not one
You’d think to save —
By an old stone bench,
In the worn green grass
Another summer’s
Soon to pass
And I wish I knew
Why the stream still sings,
When I lost your heart
Like so many other
Things
A moment: walking through the grass,
The two of us had argued,
Still dressed for where we should have been,
A tacit, garbled dark mood —
A moment: far and long ago,
Yet strongly it reminds me
That though I dress up to the nines,
Discomfort always
Finds me
