Trying to learn
Something from the
Past
Is a funny way to spend the
Future.

We look back
At the beauty,
Seeking the safety
Of our imaginations,
Knowing memories of
Other Lives
Can shield us
From the pain
Of our own
Biography.

You long to sit
In classrooms,
Captaining other minds
Through the fogs
And mists
That shroud memory.

The light you bring
Can illuminate
Or blind.
Sometimes, a dimmer light
Is better
To see through
The fog.

Glance backward,
Don't stare.
The future,
Glorious and clear
Awaits.

I am on my way to see
A quintessential American,
To walk where he did,
And where he lies.

As is our native wont,
He ended himself,
The final act of violence
In a peripatetic life
Full of action and
Faithlessness and
Self-doubt,
A quintessential American.

Even so,
He shared his gift
With us, with
The world.
Shared a vision
Sometimes violent
And stark, but true.
True, at least,
For a
Quintessential American.

You possess a crystal heart,
One I have admired
Many times,
It sits just out of reach  
Inviting my gaze.

Like a boy at a store window
With iced frosting,
Blowing steamy breath
And rubbing it free of the grime
I have deposited on it,
I gaze at the prize,
A treasure to be had,
Like key fobs or
Combs;
You are the magi
Who carries the gift.

The window is dark
Except for the spotlit
Center,
The object of my desire
And hope,
The pearl of great price
I will give all to possess.

For Hannah

She's sitting at the
kitchen table,
Full of strep and forced
to read a book
by a mom who believes
the mind can continue to flourish
while its carrying case
suffers.

Forcing fluids,
killing biotic enemies
She sits silently
while I listen to the
Happiest Music I know,
Linus and Lucy;
She frowns,
more from pain
than distaste.

Mom cooks lasagna
and brother scouts the fridge.
Nothing looks good
She thinks.
She says.
She feels.

I daydream
Far more than the average
Soul,
Easily distracted
And lost
In a haze that invites
Visions of the future
While deadening the
Thump and Clang
Of the present.

I imagine
Springtime light
Through the windows,
Languid time entangled
With you,
Not a slave to time
Or work,
Or the impatient
Buzz-Buzz-Buzzing
Of my alarm.

I hope
I live long enough
To fulfill my promise
To you,
To share a life
Unburdened
By the cares
Of time,
Of work,
Or another man's
Demands.

Across the hall
We stand, greeting and
Pushing souls
Overcome by hormones
Toward their destinies,
Hopefully to find
Fifty-five minutes
Of knowledge.

I was out of my league,
Clearly,
Not a very good teacher,
Farther from home
Than you.

But there you were,
Beautiful,
Just naive enough
That I could steal a furtive glance
At you,
Tall, too slender, wearing
Your favorite blue
Paisley dress
A little too often
For coincidence.

In my poverty
You were all I saw,
The lovely
Pearl of great price.
10,000 days, more
Have passed
And I still steal those glances,
Furtive and longing,
Hoping that I can
Will you
Into my arms.

Even today, I see you,
The object of my
Desires,
My heart's goal,
Wrapped in blue paisley.

After a certain age,
One's death
Is rarely called untimely-

"He lived a full life"
or
"I'll be lucky if I live as long as she did"
Are the refrains of mourners
For the aged.

Yet when death comes,
It rarely enters
With good timing.
As the dead travel,
The living stand still,
Embracing the pain
Of Absence.

Life reckons death
Untimely, unfair,
An ill-conceived end.
Demise knows no
Convenient hour.