I speak to you now, former wife, another time, another place
I don’t know where you are, where you’ve been these forty years
But in that year, that sultry, passioned summer in Japan
twelve months past exchanging wedding bands,
we rode the train in to Tokyo every day
from Nerimaku at the city’s edge,
apartment on that narrow street, floor two, and no A.C.
only a floor fan to blow the steamy air, but
the *** was great, the sleeping not so much
and you in your green forties style patterned dress, mid-length
would often melt my heart,
Remember, if you hear me, that as time to come home neared
we were favored by an Imperial Palace gardens private tour
from a friendly diplomat, how we made the connection I forget
unless you, my dark-eyed twenty four, might remember
I’m not likely to find out, and does it matter?
He proudly showed us small silver waterfalls
catch light over well- placed rocks, the full ferns lush,
and roses and lavender the best of what was left
of manicured flowers, I held your hand,
in this seeming almost the perfect ending
To six weeks of endless interviewing, I was so glad to have you there,
law and grad student couple walking with our grey haired friend,
an austral early evening breeze brought kind relief,
the blessing that can come with late August’s setting sun,
our host pointed to tiny flecks of red and yellow
almost imperceptible on the vast sweet-gums we passed
observing that the Japanese revered the sight-- this time of year
as if anticipation of the coming season were sweeter than the fall itself,
And I have never forgotten that revelation
And I have never forgotten the fleeting smile in your brown eyes
in that long green moment of the western sky.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 4:10 AM UTC
I speak to you now, former wife, another time, another place
I don’t know where you are, where you’ve been these forty years
But in that year, that sultry, passioned summer in Japan
twelve months past exchanging wedding bands,
we rode the train in to Tokyo every day
from Nerimaku at the city’s edge,
apartment on that narrow street, floor two, and no A.C.
only a floor fan to blow the steamy air, but
the *** was great, the sleeping not so much
and you in your green forties style patterned dress, mid-length
would often melt my heart,
Remember, if you hear me, that as time to come home neared
we were favored by an Imperial Palace gardens private tour
from a friendly diplomat, how we made the connection I forget
unless you, my dark-eyed twenty four, might remember
I’m not likely to find out, and does it matter?
He proudly showed us small silver waterfalls
catch light over well- placed rocks, the full ferns lush,
and roses and lavender the best of what was left
of manicured flowers, I held your hand,
in this seeming almost the perfect ending
To six weeks of endless interviewing, I was so glad to have you there,
law and grad student couple walking with our grey haired friend,
an austral early evening breeze brought kind relief,
the blessing that can come with late August’s setting sun,
our host pointed to tiny flecks of red and yellow
almost imperceptible on the vast sweet-gums we passed
observing that the Japanese revered the sight-- this time of year
as if anticipation of the coming season were sweeter than the fall itself,
And I have never forgotten that revelation
And I have never forgotten the fleeting smile in your brown eyes
in that long green moment of the western sky.
I like to go back to specific years of my life and zero in on an event that has lodged in my brain, allow it "out", see if it breathes, see if it touches Another.