Fading Away

Everything Is Temporary

The name of the bitter green
Fruit whose tart taste
Would pucker our lips
The street where our family
Built their first home
The word triskaidekaphobia
What we did after school
When we were nine
Driving from Santa Cruz, California
In 1977 at night with mist
The five a geometric and highly obsidian surface
From which we would veer
Finding our self in a field of wild alfalfa
Nine feet tall and undulating
In the Tule fog as we ambled
Precariously past a path
Which might take us home
How we held the world
At bay when it didn’t suit our purposes
The purity of dreams
The ceaseless quest
To understand a world
Which cannot be understood

Throwing a cheap and likely useless
Reel someone once used to fish for food
So high into the atmosphere
We thought it might never come down
And when it did, penetrating the flat
Transparent surface of a neighbor’s window
We found a way to be elsewhere
The names of people we knew
The numbers on the face of their stucco’d houses
How we learned
How we remembered
Why we cared
Honoring the past
Looking to the future
Remaining present


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