Following a conversation on a previous post about MAYBE I promised to say something about his human.


I remember Vancouver
where people pass
like moving air
How like a breeze you were!
Not a gale against which
to mount
a mindless resistance
but a movement so gentle
I had to stop
to be sure it was real

Slowing down I saw
a small part of the fence
separating within and without
had fallen
decided that its recreation
would be an act
of destruction

I remember passing through that hole
to meet Philip the Crippled Pigeon
and watch his growth
to take tea and talk midnight madness
on puppy crowded veranda
From there ideas fell like lighted matches
brightly burning in the air
to extinguish on the wet reality
of pavement beneath

No Matter! No matter!
That street too could be transformed
by a bicycle with steering wheel
and a unicycle with its rich harvest
of bruises and laughter

Sidewalk of sunshine where children played . . .
shadowed suddenly with a little girl lost

The moon pulled the tides and the stars our destinies
as comet-like we left a trail of ideas, fantasies
and ice cream drips through the neighborhood
where even houses breathed

We lived in an area that was young
but about to grow old
and we too sat on the threshold
awaiting the change
Now, sitting by the other ocean
our country feels old
and I with it
The change I wait for now
is a return to youth
so I remember
and wonder
how it is with you
The fence has been repaired
but even among these Atlantic tempests
that warm Pacific breeze
could break it again!

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