Friday, April 24, 2009

Arrival and Ground Transportation


I entered San Francisco between two ages
A young woman who overplayed the bitch
A nearsighted old man who read the news
Like he had to smell the meaning of each word.

In the awkward intimacy of strangers
Closer than friends
We tried to think of something else.

It takes a day and nearly $900 to get here
Five hours in coach, $2 headphones, two movies
Three beverage carts, four cookies, two bags of peanuts
Three new time zones, two trips to the lavatory, no meal
And always the recirculated, desiccated, and odorous air.

An arm’s length away
Outside our little metal cloud
Life was impossible.


On the edge of the continent
Alone in a dark seat on the dark side of earth
I rode away in a balm of luxurious darkness
Under storm clouds the weight of one atmosphere
A black sea containing all the names of creation
Past rooms with open windows and shaded lamps
Like aids to navigation, the lights of homes
Where people hammer out of darkness
Chains of meaning released into the world
A grammar made from darkness and surrendered to it.

No comments: