There are all these people with so much going on.
The fat lady coming out of the gas station in her Ford Explorer
with three kids in the back,
smoking a Pall Mall and I’m like, Lady,
but maybe she is slowed down and what the hell do I know?
There’s the guy mowing his lawn across the street
who I had no idea, until the other day,
was a cop
and busted gang leaders in Brighton
for selling hookers and crack
to Saudis across the sea.
For all this time I thought he was just a guy
with an Asian wife
who loved his rhododendrons
and had no kids.
All these people and I should watch my mind
the way you should watch your mind
when you see me pick up my kid around the belly
and drag her upstairs
because she lied about the cookies and the tomatoes on the wall
and the sadness in my heart.
What do you know?
Do you know the sadness in my heart?
What do I know?
Do I know the sadness in your heart?
We don’t and that is why I have to be careful
when the mailman tosses my mail across the front steps
because earlier his big brother was diagnosed
with a rare form of cancer.
It’s a special place this planet
with all of its high power lines and cell towers.
It’s a godly visitation of blueness
that we might have turned rust color.
On my way to the Roche Brothers for some kosher beef salami
two kids on skateboards,
bi-racial gay couple,
haircutter from Iran,
the Italian cook and his sweaty bride.
We don’t know till we know
and even then we don’t know.
So, what do we know?
The only thing I know is that there are all these people
and so many more people
and people at the beach,
thousands of them in their beach chairs,
inside their sun screen and buckets of watermelon
and it boggles my mind
that we are all here, together,
without doing more damage.
It blows the back of my hair apart
and turns my eyes into widening spheres of animal
to the point where I go to my fried chicken store
and devour my chicken
then pass out in the grass
with the lions and cheetahs and bears,
all bloody and spitty and, for the moment,
perfectly at peace.