Driving home from work after my mother died…
The words come into my head
Titty pink
I see a pink 1965 mustang enter the freeway to my
right, but why titty? It no more resembles a breast or
tit or hooter or any color of any part of anyone’s
anatomy than…well, maybe on some mammal, but not one I
know personally
The words come into my head
What a grotesque color
I see a florescent yellow motorcycle pass on my left
and leave a glowing trail which my eyes can‘t let go
of because I can‘t believe someone would choose such a
gaudy insult to motorcycles on purpose…but maybe he
likes yellow, and perhaps it tastes good to him
The words come into my head
Well, they’re not really words,
I see a beautiful sunset and clouds the color of
nothing I know, and the language that speaks to me is
in an omnipotent, ancient knowing that has no words
and yet sounds like everything that matters.
The words come into my head
I miss her so much
And suddenly I can’t see the world around me at all,
but am reliving the moments of tremendous tender and
fear sweating scenes of when I lose another piece of
her and couldn’t I have done better and maybe it’s all
a mistake and if I keep her in my mind and ignore what
my eyes are trying to tell me she will be real because
I’ve worked so hard to see her again
The words come into my head
The words from everywhere I’ve been and everything
I’ve done and they show up uninvited and full of
themselves and keep meditation at bay because they
don’t want to lose their place in my universe, my
chaos
The words come into my head
But sometimes I don’t hear them before they shoot
right out of my mouth and I wonder if I was witty and
charming or acerbic and mean and do I owe an amends to
someone or did I really say it in the first place
The words come into my head
Life is too short
I look around and see the world and know that I must
change and change, and change again until I, too, am
gone.