As far back as my memory extends,
I’ve liked to be in my own room, within
my home. But I soon learned my joy depends
on leaving to return to origin.
Appreciation rests on change, and spends
in wasting sediment. What’s more, I win
real ownership of where I put my feet.
So even now I willing take the street.
I know a 3 year-old (she’ll soon be 4)
who captured the idea that she controls
what happens and by whom and even more –
the way all eyes should aim. The parents’ roles
don’t matter, not to them: the weary souls.
And lately time among that family
is iffy pleasure shot with toddler holes.
She isn’t boss. The job’s now forced on me.
It wasn’t much. The forecast boded ill,
but coastal California isn’t such
a hazard with regard to Autumn’s spill.
It wasn’t much.
When I heed media I’m out of touch.
I venture and find air that won’t fulfill
the threats reporters say to ply their clutch
at eyes and ears and minds that get a thrill
from peril like to gossip’s heady crutch,
that slows their pace and dampens down their will.
It wasn’t much.
A specialist in negativity,
she’s honed her attitude for 60 years.
Her nasty childhood pathology
inspired her toward safety, it appears.
In love and life she chose to blunt her fears,
which bored her and embittered how she thought.
Her pretty face has twisted, and her tears
are swamped by alcohol her husband bought.
His shoulder fits my palm exquisitely.
And though I’ve been besotted since his start,
there’s now a tender bony quality
that heats and even pulls my heart apart
to make an ever bigger space, where he
can safely lodge in love and memory.
I know and hope the boy will grow to man,
but I will cherish 7 while I can.
I used to watch the news and sometimes look
around me on the bus, the train, the street,
and wonder who was packing what it took
to harm. Who had a knife in a discreet
location? Were there hidden guns aboard?
The folks around were varied, and benign
I had assumed, but media assured
me peril was about without a sign.
I never saw the evidence, and now
my queries on my peers are shifted so
I wonder who is feeling sick, or how
they’re dealing with depression. I don’t know
how many suffer reflux, headaches, gas,
and who believes their misery will pass.
I got reminded viewing my own verse.
I read some lines I drafted just last week,
and triggered memory that could be worse,
regarding images I’ve set to seek.
I’m nothing medical, yet I can nurse
today intention that is not unique
for me but cherished. I’ve no bucket list,
but here’s a cup that’s not to be dismissed.
They boarded at the Powell stop, I think –
a mixed-race pair with bags. Each held a spliff
they didn’t light. I looked up from my ink,
and met his eyes with neutral gaze – no tiff
or judgment in me, and he placed his pack
beside me, in a vacant seat, as if
he meant no harm or insult. It was black
and clean, and he’d a shopping bag as well.
A woman boarded next, and gave him flack
but in a friendly way – a little spell
of joking shit, the games young people play.
They knew each other, far as I could tell.
And then we traveled underneath the bay.
They signaled they’d detrain at Oakland West,
and gathered in an exiting array.
He swung the shopping bag with playful zest.
They followed out its up trajectory,
and left behind the backpack. No one guessed
that was deliberate (very doubtful). We
yelled “Hey, your bag,” just as the train door closed.
By then I’d moved the pack in front of me,
and shot this picture where it now reposed.
To terrorism there appeared no link.
I shrugged at three, and left while others dozed.
For half an hour yesterday, I sat
upon my leather loveseat and before
a room-enhancing fire, like a cat
in cozy comfort, socks above the floor
and cushioned on a footrest I adore.
I felt for 30 minutes no intent
or obligation, relaxation more
than excellent, and perfectly content.
Perhaps the populace is dumbing down.
It seems unfiltered speech is on the rise.
And insight’s swamped among some tides that drown
consideration. This is no surprise.
The signals have been here without disguise –
since 17, I’ve seen the evidence.
But lately what is striking ears and eyes
is dearth of wit and sparse intelligence.
 | sputterpub on Old Haunt |
 | zumpoems on Old Haunt |
| sputterpub on Master of Destruction |
 | groomie on Master of Destruction |
| sputterpub on Vacuum |
Sputterpub's Blog 