A Patch of Sun


I am sitting in a patch of sun

the only place I found today

to stop my pacing restlessness, from moving me around.

I don't need glasses

except to read  signs and headlines

the fine print and ingredients

price tags at the local second hand.


Some five dozen pairs of magnifiers

stashed on every floor

all dollar store zoom lensers.


It's a gift of age not to see the details

the shock of loose skin and spots,

which fade and tighten

when seeing hangs from a string 'round the neck.


What are we all trying to do?

Sweeping up the butts outside

picking up the shit.


trying to clean up the mess left behind

to create some semblance of beauty

some hint of order.

A lasoo or drawstring around what matters.


Sometimes hunger is demanding and insatiable

mostly it can be forgotten

lost in boredom or enthusiam

equally displaced.


Maybe we'll get a dog

I can't imagine what that will change

fear of complacency

barks on the inside and frightens what might be different away.


We are sitting on opposite sides

of a small table

or kitti corner

or lying like spoons in the bed

one end of the couch

or the other

driving fast forward

sometimes reverse.

It's a journey we are on, together.