oft times
there’s just me and a book
who’s an old
or maybe a new
friend
a glass of wine
the ceiling fan turning
the cat sleeping on the back
of my chair
and that’s all I need
that’s enough
other writing
replay
lightning doesn’t strike twice
in the same place
then it did
smoke and ashes
scars that don’t fade
at malibu
there was the sea
the plantive cry of seagulls
you stood at the edge
with a look I could not read
waves broke, the sun did not shine
the king of sighs
is what you called me
blamed it on
all the trouble you caused
that I had to clean up
which of course
was considerable
I suppose it was love
though now
I’m not so sure
looking at this
from a decade or more
beyond
hindsight
and all the cliches
that conjures
I did think though
you were worth it
but how was I to know
you had so little faith
in yourself
and settled for
what I predicted
the path of least resistance
and so these emails
from across the world
of second
or even third
thoughts
are not unexpected
but also not welcomed
life goes on
and you and I both
went with it
in totally different directions
and now the sighs
though still there
are not the same
certainly not
more than resignation
of a new
old world
on replay
mixed with a bit
of contentment
on search engines
the past comes calling
knocking on a virtual door
in unexpected searches
on google
names faces dates
a litany of information
that one had tried
so hard
to forget
there it is
a reminder of events
one did participate in
and words said
promises made
some kept
others broken
in black and white
on a computer screen
like it or not
one cannot disappear
from anyone
even one’s self
so we come
into each other’s lives
and memory
once triggered
is like Banquo’s ghost
there to imply the words
left unspoken
dreaming of Naples
I walk down narrow streets
in my dream
passing strangers who resemble people
of my youth
the faces so familar
it is as if my uncles/aunts are here
huddled in conversation
politics and sports
though the talk here is of football
not the Brooklyn Dodgers
our hearts broken with each loss
our hearts bouyant with each win
and those damned Republicans
on the loose again
here the talk is of a loss of freedom
the high rate of taxes
what to eat for dinner
and time to drink one’s coffee in peace
the shrugs of shoulders
the helpless hand gestures
I know this world
so far from my own
and yet is my own
it is like looking
in a mirror
I have not felt so Italian
until I walked these streets
of Naples
my name not so musical
until I heard it here
I have not felt so at home
until I closed my eyes
and took in the scent from restaurants
in the air
of these streets
here
in my dreams
on change: a tanka
days will pass away
change will come with the seasons
time does not stand still
life takes on its own rhythm
and peace will finally reign
the sixties: a tanka: for my friends
something we survived
our minds our hearts still intact
a bit worse for wear
but learned what is possible
deeply engraved on our souls
on indecision: a tanka
what were you doing
going forward going back
such indecision
too late comes the time wishing
you just came forward to me
senseless killing
I sit
numb with memory
remembering the innocent dead
of my own country
at Kent State
at Jackson State
during the month of May
in 1970
some while protesting
others while crossing
from one class to another
and my heart breaks again
listening to the protests
reliving our student strike
that closed hundreds of schools
across the nation
and wishing, hoping
my beloved Turkish people
will not let this murder
of a 14 year old boy
who was just going to buy bread
pass
but will unite
in a common cause
to end tyranny
and let this poor boy
Berkin Elvan
rest in peace
Leonard Durso 