I like the idea of cities,
walkup neighborhoods, museums, coffee shops
the mix of culture and habit
.
I need busy and humming sometimes
bumping up against the world
in a subway or a pub
.
More often though I like quiet
equilibrium, siting in a swing
on a porch listening to rain fall
.
I like the bright lights,
then I like going home
walking in the quiet dark
Unfinished for decades,
a women in jeans sits in a chair
naturally with a black cat on the sill nearby.
Behind her through big windows are
the city and the sea, with a path to each.
On her right a guitar in a stand,
on her left a table full of writings.
She sits in the chair
faceless, eyes cast down
uncertain, even as the painter is not certain
how this will play out, what happens next.
I'd lost at love
at money
I'd lost at friendship
and achievement of all sorts
I'd lost bets,
keys, cups of coffee
by the dozens
Lost my place in books
lost my way in travels
lost my breath while running.
But when it came to
losing you Mom
last of my parents
I had nothing to go by,
When we lost Dad
it was you and I
WE lost him.
And now I have
lost you as well.
No sisters. No brothers
to share it with.
No preconceptions
No idea what to expect.
no experience
no armor.
Everything is blurry
and far away now.
Things recede daily
as I run towards them.
.
The universe expands
faster and faster yet
my world seems to
contract like a spasm
.
or a fist raised
against grief.
Water's rising, clock ticking
while we fight about everything.
Consider sneaker brands
change TV channels.
Meanwhile nature plots against us
Zika nature's way
of giving us the diminished
capacity we already
act like we have.
She said
"I'm going to march and get arrested."
I said
"Oh Really,"
"And what will that prove?"
She said
"Corporations have too much power,
"we'll show them people count."
I said
"Did you vote in the midterm elections?"
"No" she said.
"It's a free country I don't have too."
I smiled sadly, donated her bail
to the League of Women Voters.
glasses, plates, mirrors,- Mar (Mistryel) Walker
ashtrays, mugs, bottles, bowls,
candle holders, coffee carafes,
every item of glass
in small pieces on the floor,
three inches deep
everywhere here
in this studio apartment,
testament to anger
pent up
from love
unexpressed,
and fearing
abandonment,
she sweeps it all
takes out the bags,
buys paper plates
before he gets
home.