Magic tears, any time,
anytime an old man can share, some
subtle sense that the kids are alright,
life makes sense, over a span,
of three generations, over lapping,
-mindtimespace pre-excavated
bubbles of happy old men
center the evolving sequence
sheltering open minds and soft hearts
being there, inbetween what's coming down
stirring quantum foam
into active magic surficant
applied with sticky gnosisnot
as hot tar on a roof, or thatching,
all in steady ready peace,
occurrence-easy, expanding
at will, becoming as aha at once
as all zeitgeist guests do,
pop
a grand parent bubble, winking
at each,
defined as one of a kind,
no two alike, and, as a matter of fact,
making your heaven
on earth like mine
would cost you the hell I paid, and
there's no need, things, we agree,
you, dear reader, and I, a we, of some
notion once given thought to float on,
after taking a famous great notion,
to jump in the ocean and drown, done
and proceeding to drown, down, down
I lived
to tell, I decided
climbing out from
depths of angst, actual wrong thinking,
twisted proverbs, and jokes with no story.
Nuns or skunks… what's black and
white, and black and white, and
black, and white…. rolling down a hill,
or it could be cop suvs, too.
Right,
Or a yen yank thang. right.
- the route from the bus stop
- blind milk horse, what did you say?
I was paying no attention,
then smallest, though not youngest,
granddaughter finishes,
Magic tears, are when you see
another person cry, and you cry, too.
Grandpa said, yeah, that's a gift,
like a subtle super power.
She said, yes, she knows.
Another sappy grandpa echo from the ride up from the bus stop on a kinda dreeary day.
