a flight to the past,
a visit to a relic
that won't be forgotten
in the graceless forage
of clinging age.
A trip in silence, rehearsing
the kindness in feign,
the patience in honor
over and above the frustration
in noise and drone.
A cab pulls in, a quiet ride
ignored in favor of a cell phone
and foreign whispers of endearment...
perfect, he knows I don't feel like chatting...
I will have my fill soon enough, he likes
the tip and will repay with a pleasant pick up.
Call me - private cell- hmmm, an offer
I won't refuse.
The hovering bird sits in stoic smoke...
feeble in slow teary recognition,
I forgot how old... a kiss and light of a smoke,
the last bond of unspoken acceptance.
By day the busy of welcomed helpfulness,
the child still feels every direction,
correction, and admonition...
as if in stupidity I can't manage.
In quiet protest and terse grin
I let him feel big and whole again,
in his youthful remembrances
and dull TV chatter.
I welcome my demons... spirits of
loosened tongue and insolent disagreement
where the crooked path of patch
gently denounces the utterances
of bullshit... his thoughts are born
of a TV addict..
he hates my addictions, or pretends
not to notice or hear.
"You're black and white"... I say,
"No, I'm gray, although I know stupid."
I'm talking ideology, he's still talking about
a movie, acclaimed and deep... but stupid.
Crash... the car wreak of my past
has hit me...
he loves me,
he's proud of me,
he'll never let on
in a way I'll understand...
I don't cry anymore at good-bye.
In the taxi ride back... I chatter
and tell stories to a thankful stranger...
happy to be going home,
finally at peace with were I came from.
a story told of which there is much on the surface and underneath as well..your words say much
ReplyDeleteThe past can't be changed, but perceptions can... when you're in the driver's seat. Thank you R :>)
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