polite
nostalgia, running through fields, pausing, looking at wires, clapping at
pigeons. feeding chickens, too meditated to be so young, too immortal to
determine death. causeless or ruthless or internal. some pathology. some pseudonym
for observations. some supposed correlation. it becomes unapparent our rules
for perception while most go by consensus. a woman is an avid reader, a
sensuous mystic, a scream for, or at, nonsense. she dies with letters. she
shouts at silence. she debates feminist issues. her husband is at love,
boundaries, a perfected physiological response. she eats healthy. she minds her
weight. she exercises daily. her son is evolved. he learns quickly. she dies to
know what he must face. she takes incentives, dines like eloquence, reads more
and more and resurrects with knowledge. her career is excellent. her
dissertation was published. she loves where it seems to unthread. she denies
her cravings, a most passionate innuendo, a dire thief of captured moments. she
needs oxygen. her mind is rapid. her falls are internal. she cleans
excessively. she laughs modestly. she is a great lover. he is bipolar. it isn’t severe. for
whatever reason he remains concealed. he reads incessantly. he is in thought.
he looks dreamy. he loves, communicates, and is a buttress king. they put each
other through college. they fell enlove. he is a great mentor—to both her and
their child. they make a great deal. they live in a great home. they drive
expensive cars. she buys too
much. he complains too much. they would die without each other. polite nostalgia. running through
absolutes. wondering why death would strike us in life. dilated pupils. a little teaser of
wine. a woman reading her brains out. we communicate like friends we keep honest
like Judges we prevaricate like embarrassed souls. a little contradiction. this
is existence. we do things we cannot confess to. a person must be careful, cirrhosis
is on its prowl, plus, something human-spirit is taking place. a few loquats. a few cherries. we are
again young seedlings. a bird soaring a hawk watching, we learn about
instincts. palming a dandelion.
looking into a fortress. it will never be this way again.
