I did not scorn
learning them;
It's just my mind
Was busy being trained
For “Other Things”:
Poetry, Philosophy, Literature. Survival, for a girl.
But now,
What a relief
To see you understand
The ways
Of horses
Their shyness
& hatred
Of
Loneliness:
That you will not
Hesitate
To rescue
An old horse,
Dying on
His feet
&
That you will
Cheerfully
Wash him,
Aged
&
Incontinent
Head
To
Toe. Missing
With your bucket
&
Rag
Not
One
Hidden
Crevice
As he
Trembles
& weeps.
What peace
To see
Raising chickens
Does not
Mystify you
and
Hot water heaters
& their ways
Are well known;
That electricity
& how it
Works
Is something
Within
Your grasp.
That you can
Get a car
To run
By poking
It in
A few mysterious
Places
Under
The hood.
That you can
Fix a
Broken
Anything: battery, truck, stove,
Door, fridge, lamp, chicken coop hinge
While teaching me
The ins and outs
Of Opera
Or
While singing
Lusty
Italian
Tenor
That
Shakes
The walls.
That you can
Sit, comfy,
Unperturbed
By traffic
In the womb-like
Back seat
Of my
Chariot
While I drive
& you
Ride
The silver
Black
& Golden
Horses
Of
Your
Trumpet.
***
With your unknown
to me
Odd magic
You came
To me:
Your truck
Backfiring
As if sending
Out
Rockets
To the
Stars.
You came
In
So gracefully
Rockets
Silenced
Behind you &
Set
To work
As if nothing
Brought you
Greater
Joy.
I did not see Life was
About to change, as it does,
Whenever odd magic appears:
There was
No music
Yet.
Chatting
About relationships, our freedom
From same,
Which we
So defended;
About water, faucet
Drips;
The gifts
Of growing older;
You set to work
& I, standing above you
As you lay on
Your back
Studied
Your feet:
Well cared for
In ocean blue
Sandals
Made of tough
Plastic.
Buddies,
We said, we agreed
That's what we
Needed.
How about going out
Together as buddies
For a night of music
& dance? My first
Indication
That song
Had a place
In
Your world.
Two years later
The leak
In my kitchen
Sink
Remains
Fixed
As well as
The leak
I never mentioned
In my spirit.
Early and late
We savor
The music
That comes
From
Your horn
The Golden Phoenix
That travels
With us
Everywhere
Your sound
Your love of Miles & Bird
& Wynton
Making
Friends of strangers
Around
The globe.
In Poor
Countries
Where
The grass
Has died
& the ponies
& oxen
Also
& the people
Have nothing
To bath in
Or to drink
&
Yet are soothed
By your cool
& liquid
Music, which
You pour over them
So freely,
I want to tell them:
Yes, he is also
A water man.
You have bought
Foolish hats
From madmen
In Paris
You have bought
Shoes
You never
Intend to wear
You have
Bought
Cars for
Each day
Of
The week.
You ride
Faster than
Our donkeys
Can
Think;
Splashed with
The perfume
of our mothers’
Tears.
On
Television
You appear
In all your
Innocence
Wearing the spectacles
Whose frames
Our turtles
Unwillingly
Donated to you
With their
Shells
You speak
About our danger
To you
Our anger
And envy
And greed.
You are genuinely surprised to see us
Not only standing
But even more
Mysteriously
Armed, absolutely,
With the graceful
Power
Of speech.
But we were busy
In those shacks
&
Mud huts
Before dark;
Before the mosquitoes
Drove us
From our books.
We know
What you take
From us
And what
Useless things
-never love or peace or happiness -
You buy
With it.
***
