(its not often I
write in first person)
I stood outside along the deck
railing writing on paper held fast in my Bear-of-a-Clipboard(I salvaged it from
a businesss trash in 1980)
on the pages opposite side I can see
theres an advertisement for a Valentines Day event at a health club
my sentence pierces its prominent
red heart like Cupids arrow
inside the house before coming
out I lit a cigar
Ill admit I was tempted after blowing
the match out to count the extinguished matches laying in the ashtray I tossed
it in beside
each match represents a cigar
and typically a wrioting
I let the temptation subside
Im very good at throttling
temptation
it can express itself momentarily
then I let it go
no temptation is my master
today is a silver grey dayit
threatens rain but it must forget this
is California
rain is mythic
sometimes a rain falls but it
dries up in the atmosphere before touching the ground
its like my temptations
at once realthen irreal
a ghost
I see ghoststheyre real
I dont see them as often as my
mate my second me
I love her as I love myself
her qualities mirror mine
mine mirror hers
our differences are only in the
completeness or incompleteness of them
so she sees ghosts better and
more frequently than I
but she is haunted
I am too aware of myself to give
them berth
with me they are shy unprovocativethey hint but their hints are too subtle and subtlety has
always been lost on me since I was a boy
they are too ethereal to
punish me but they can punish her
they make themselves known
but only in kind as I can hear an
unseen hawk cry I know from what direction
I just cannot see it
unseeing isnt the same as
unknowing
therefore the ghosts know me I
know them were shadows to each other and we are faded in that light of knowing
my mate knows better
I listen intently to her stories her
bright defining illustrations yet as she
proceeds they still remain hints to me
we know there are reasons unknown
to us why I cannot see better
it is worthless to agonise over our
differences
it is like regrets about the past
it is past
there is only the present and how
it passes a day at a time
I accept that
she is learning and when she
learnsand she will I will hand her the
mantle and follow her
there is no shame in following
someone who is more perfected
I call that love
1400, Monday,
20 3. 17
1032, Day-between-Two-Ts, 22 3.
17
1400
days remain or less
