2.21.2023

we're like that, alone together, ignorant of shadows

Then sadness came upon them. Memories of love 
or sorrow, favorite cats, barnyard animals, 
dirt where called for 
and all the appropriate longings, lusts, self-pity, 
even rage at some tyrannical lapse of manners 
over Chinese food-just so each chosen beam or ray, 
each this, each that, so special and unique: 
Grandma's ribbon of Kansas whalebone, 
hedge clippers from the root cellar 
of the dazed horticulturist. Time passes. The years 
groove one by one round the garlanded Maypole, 
and the presence of natural totems 
bears a significant impact on the order of our lives, 
dew-struck daylilies dieseling skyward, 
the beauty of the crab apple tree against a derelict wall, 
each fruit a form of grace or an admission 
of human frailty. You're the MSG in my shark's fin soup, 
but I yam what I yam, sweet potato. 
The rage of our days rises like lobster claws 
doused in fake butter 
from a seafood restaurant chain, 
but in the end, dancing, we unfasten 
our rainbow suspenders and lie down with death, 
mongrel death, gym coach death 
tossing dodgeballs of extirpation, turning somersaults 
of grief on misery's wrestling mats. Everything passes, 
rain dissolving a lost box of cough drops, so many 
Dutch Apple Pop-Tarts in the heart's toaster oven. 
Things are like that. We're like that, 
alone together, ignorant of shadows as cardamom 
or star anise reveling in sunlight, 
wild seeds blind to the spicer's approach. 
 

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