Long ride up here, lots of green, the trees stacked up together on the mountains, the beautiful Eel River and a place called Confusion Hill, which I pondered for awhile. I spent the evening in the ICU with my partner and S. She was so beautiful. Shiny and in too much pain. She kissed me and told me I was the love of her life. And that I was my partner's treasure. She was in and out of lucid. She was delightful when she played with the morphine button that she held to her ear like a phone. "No-one's there" she said.
I want her to go peacefully and without fear. I said something lighter- today- I lied. It's too late and I haven't slept yet so you get just what's on my mind right now. This beautiful woman I said goodbye to today, and the grace of feeling how she loves me. She's still funny. She's still beautiful, even in the tired blue faded hospital gown and with the gaunt she has now and skinny arms full of bruises. I want her to go peacefully and without fear, since keeping her is not an option.
So I got to Eureka and sat down on the sidewalk like I do. It seems unusual here. I wonder why I so love to sit on the concrete.
Making Love To Concrete
An upright abutment in the mouth
of the Willis Avenue bridge
a beige Honda leaps the divider
like a steel gazelle inescapable
sleek leather boots on the pavement
rat-a-tat-tat best intentions
going down for the third time
stuck in the particular
You cannot make love to concrete
if you care about being
non-essential wrong or worn thin
if you fear ever becoming
diamonds or lard
you cannot make love to concrete
if you cannot pretend
concrete needs your loving
To make love to concrete
you need an indelible feather
white dresses before you are ten
a confirmation lace veil milk-large bones
and air raid drills in your nightmares
no stars till you go to the country
and one summer when you are twelve
Con Edison pulls the plug
on the street-corner moons Walpurgisnacht
and there are sudden new lights in the sky
stone chips that forget you need
to become a light rope a hammer
a repeatable bridge
garden-fresh broccoli two dozen dropped eggs
and a hint of you
caught up between my fingers
the lesson of a wooden beam
propped up on barrels
across a mined terrain
between forgiving too easily
and never giving at all.
of the Willis Avenue bridge
a beige Honda leaps the divider
like a steel gazelle inescapable
sleek leather boots on the pavement
rat-a-tat-tat best intentions
going down for the third time
stuck in the particular
You cannot make love to concrete
if you care about being
non-essential wrong or worn thin
if you fear ever becoming
diamonds or lard
you cannot make love to concrete
if you cannot pretend
concrete needs your loving
To make love to concrete
you need an indelible feather
white dresses before you are ten
a confirmation lace veil milk-large bones
and air raid drills in your nightmares
no stars till you go to the country
and one summer when you are twelve
Con Edison pulls the plug
on the street-corner moons Walpurgisnacht
and there are sudden new lights in the sky
stone chips that forget you need
to become a light rope a hammer
a repeatable bridge
garden-fresh broccoli two dozen dropped eggs
and a hint of you
caught up between my fingers
the lesson of a wooden beam
propped up on barrels
across a mined terrain
between forgiving too easily
and never giving at all.
Audre Lorde
My eyes are closing. I think this might all be gibberish but I don't want you to not have a prompt in your box in the morning.
so...
My eyes are closing...
***
The last thing she ever said ...
***
I want to be that hawk...
***
She loves me...or...I love her
I hope this day is good to you and your creative.
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