I want you to see these two
One is clever
and dark
The other is earnest
and bright

These two men struggle
against each other,
for the same goal

Dark and clever, Ish
Earnest and bright, Sen

Sen was always the strongest
They would drink together at the bar
and Sen would always fight strangers in the alley outside
Ish would light a cigarette and watch
pushing his mop of black hair
out of his eyes
and grinning

One night it was raining,
with violence in the air like static
electricity
Sen was drunk and the bar was empty
except for those two

Let's fight
Sen said to Ish
Okay

They went outside, in the rain, with lighting spreading through the concrete

Sen was stronger by far
But Ish was quick and graceful

Sen swung and missed
and again
and again
Ish waited
Eventually Sen slowed
Ish landed one on his jaw
He was so fast
Sen went down,
hard
But Sen didn't quit easy,
He got up and landed one on Ish's nose
It broke, blood flowed like a faucet
Ish took a knee,
and smiled,
Okay

Ish lit a cigarette and Sen helped him up
They walked to the hospital together
On the way Ish noticed that Sen was missing a tooth,

They walked together
each envious of the other
and the rain kept on

A LATE 1962-ISH PUDDLE

It was a late 1962-ish
puddle.

A Curragh puddle
to be exact

but you
...wouldn't know that.

A moon had fallen
asleep in it

with scattered silver stars
nailing it to the ground.

I was 6-ish
by then &

had encountered more
puddles than you

could ever splash
about in.

But, this was
the first puddle

I ever
remember.

An Ur-puddle.

To the rest of the world
it was as if

it had never been &
existed only for me.

A robin stood
at my side.

Us both...staring at the puddle.

Suddenly the robin
made up its mind &

stepped defiantly
into this miniature ocean.

The robin stood on the moon
which shattered &

reformed itself about
its tiny feet.

It was the first robin
I'd seen

walking on the moon.

The puddle lived
inside my head

for many many
years until

these words came along
and took it away.

It was like the hand
of a man

long long before
history was invented

pressed against
the flickering cave wall

leaving a sooty hand print
in celebration of himself.

"This mark means
me!"

My late 1962-ish
Curragh puddle

and that robin walking
on a watery moon

is my handprint
on the cave wall

of my mind
in the long long ago.

I laugh at
the me-ness of me!