•high in the
mountains, he grew we-
ary                 and ragged•
•                     his sight turned
                           cloudy, chin un-
                             shaven and face hag-
                                    gard•removed his boots
                                    for his feet did stink•
                                  sleep he wanted but not
                                without a drink•one big
                              swig and he downed it all•
                        then he was asleep before the
                      sun could fall•many days visited,
             many shadows cast•over this slum-
     bering man, many moons had passed
•one fateful day, his eyes did twitch
and then did open•he sprung aw-
ake to the life he had forsaken•his
musket dusty, his clothes in di-
sarray•his chin - a long beard
that has seen countless days•he
ran to his home before noontime
chime•he found only disbelief, for he had slept




a lifetime•

.
What he didn’t say
with voice,
he spoke clearly
with tears
that never left

his eyes.

.

I say it’s cozy - you say it’s cluttered.
I say it’s comfy, you say it’s crowded.
Two hundred miles from what we knew and loved
Those miles have somehow slipped between us.

You say this place must be bewitched
You put down things, they walk away.
I say your mind is occupied-
You’re not living in the moment.

Hamstrung by a phone line waiting for connection
Someone in India has a hand in our lives
And decides who we can talk to,
Limited now to only each other.

The sun gave a hint of blisters to come,
Then cooled by an unexpected deluge
That turned cardboard cartons to sagging mush
And soaked us as we tried to save them.

They said it rained just ten times a year
But our record for the first two weeks:
Two monsoon pours and 4 more others
While thunder and sheet lightning filled the heavens.

The sky lights up like strobes on crack
While thunder rumbles in the distance
Overture to monster downpour
Dried and gone before the sunrise.

No Welcome Wagon rang our bell
No casseroles appeared
Nothing more than a random wave
To welcome us to this new life.

They said there’s no humidity
So the heat is not so bad
My gauge shows that glass half full
And we’ve been lied to once again.

We put our rubber plants outside
They were quickly cooked to mush.
We salvaged only two leaves each                       Small reward for major effort.

Who can live in such a place
The natives always say it’s lovely.
But nothing we were told is true
And somehow we must find a way.

ljm

Walking streets
Where I’m unknown
I stifle sobs
And dab my eyes.
I don’t belong.
I don’t fit in.
There’s nothing here
That smells of me,
That looks like me,
That calls to me.

I climb a hill
To watch the sun
Pour pink and gold
On lacy clouds.
I scan the valley
Full of houses.
Which one is mine-
It’s hard to tell.
they look the same
But I do not.

My footsteps do not
Fit the path
I need to walk
If I’m to find
A welcome here
I worship the wrong
Ideals and ideas
And I must hide
Behind a silent smile
Lest I be ushered out.

I cannot run
I’m here to stay
There is no other
Universe for me.
I’ll choose a
Another middle name-
Chameleon sounds right.
I’ll make them think
I’m one of them
And blend into a life.
                ljm