I wandered through an empty village
Or amid the litter of a debauched celebration (for a triumph that was only poses)
And then (as a parenthesis between my lonely stumblings) before my visage
Was a mother cultivating three children as a gardener tends his roses
She spotted me, stopped me, and said,
“Stranger, all I ask is that if you find the home of a kindly settler
Who offers you a bed
Or find a summit that shows all the land’s dangers and comforts like a peddler,
Please make a sign or some kind of mark to indicate so,
For one day my children will be walking your lonely trail.”
I told her that if I was lucky enough to find such I would somehow let them know
“I wish you Godspeed in the hope you will not fail.”
“And for showing such kindness to a homeless wanderer I thank you.”
I walked on and she did not watch after me as I disappeared into the new

Stupid
Lazy
Slow
Confused
Incompetent
That’s what you want to call me, don’t you
She said with a mouth that sounded as if it wasn’t accustomed to such aggression

Hungry
Tired
Scared
Unsure
But
Persistent
That’s what I want to call you, I said
With a mouth that sounded as if it wasn’t accustomed to such sympathy

It was a Monday in November 1971
A cloudy afternoon
When the school sent me and another kid out to find work
As part of our vocational-ed class

My companion said, Hey, let's go to Louie's
So we wandered way down near downtown
And I was happy to find myself in an apartment rented by two kids
The first time I had been in a place emancipated from adult suzerainty

We didn't do much
Just listened to albums
Until the evening finally lazed in
And I had to get back on the highway and hitchhike back alone
(I was surprised to learn my companion lived in that far-flung area where we had wandered)

A grim thirtyish woman picked me up
Told me she was going to a job interview
Then she said, "Nah, I'm not going to that interview.
I don't want that job."

So she dropped me off
And made a U-turn

I meet a lot of people
Who talk about the books they read
Mentioning titles that impress me
Praising authors beyond my degraded tastes

Yet I never run into these avid readers
At the bookstore I frequent
At the library branch I visit once a week
Hoping nonetheless

For that meeting cute
When I cinematically place my hand
on that book I've been eager to read
And she puts her hand above mine

And I say Go on -- you check it out
I'll get it when you're finished
Even though I know and she knows
That she plans to never return it

Coo -- cue? -- of mourning
Doves -- day begins -- Hoot of the
Owl starts a new night

December 1970
I'm 14
Stuck at my grandma's
Tired of the drone of Howard Cosell
I go walking
Jim + Lydia etched on a square
Then up ahead
A dude ten years older at least
Just the age I look up to
But this one holding by the hand
A little girl ten years my junior
"Where's the doggie?"
"It's in the..."
His words fade.

December 2010
I'm 54
Paused in this city where my grandmother lived
Tired of the drone of NPR
I get out
Pass the old house
Hands held up against the memories
Jim + Lydia 40 years on -- Still together? I'd like to ask
Then up ahead
An elderly man 10 years my senior
And a woman 10 years my junior
"Look, they put stained glass on their alcove."
"Yeah, they decided to..."
His words fade.

The rust-colored rooster
Hemmed in by rusted mesh wire
The white crane
Looking down on a floor of white clouds
One is boastful
The other humble