Thursday, June 30, 2011

The Next Poem in the Series About Fall 2005

September 21, 2005
Yesterday when I left work I was so tired I fully intended to take the bus

Never mind that I know
I will actually be less tired if I walk
somehow the truth of that fact never really sinks in
So I was planning my path to the bus stop
when I stepped outside and saw the sky
They were predicting thunderstorms
which seemed patently unlikely
until you saw that sky
then you believed it
Parts of it were filled with black rain clouds
parts dotted evenly with big clouds like puzzle pieces
their middles dark and their edges almost white with bright blue sky between
And the part of the sky at the end of street
(over the ocean where soon the sunset was going to happen)
was covered in dull gray clouds relieved by brilliant patches of gold
where the sun was burning holes in the cloud cover
That sky seemed rich with portent
Enough so to draw me back outside
I walked

When I got home I cooked while Bill worked
Lemon chicken with onions
Wild rice with pomegranates
My favorite part was dumping the pomegranate seeds
which were of the golden variety and therefore a delicate pale pink
into the pot of wild rice
which was essentially dark brown
The color combination
chocolate and blush
along with their contrasting textures
and their different ways of holding and releasing the light
was wonderful
I like the zipping around the kitchen as events reach their zenith
Such secret and personal enjoyments in the kitchen

Yesterday morning on Market Street there was a girl with a bike
sitting on the curb
her feet in the street
while two women attended her
She must have crashed
she had that vacant look
The older business woman was leaning over to talk to her
while the glamorous young woman in orange silk shirt and big cuff bracelet
stood with her hip thrust out talking on a cell phone
Somehow you knew those three women
had not know one another a minute ago

Then this morning the woman I see every day
sweeping the sidewalk
outside the scientology center and the submarine sandwich place
(I always wonder whether she’s a scientologist or a sandwich maker)
was wearing new
bright red rubber gloves
And there was a man outside the youth hostel lashing a couple surfboards
onto the roof of an old station wagon with a rope using seamanlike knots
He was not American surely

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