Long time friends

41 years.

not our current ages, but how many years since

we met.

on a beach

in Oregon.

we've aged, but it's amazing how the heart stays the same.

and so we meet again

with a backdrop of flowers and shrubs,

scented roses and bamboo forests.

what could be finer

there is nothing finer than

dear friends.

In Boulder, I often feel hungry

while strolling the back alleys of Quebec
she confided, "I often feel hungry in Boulder"
and looked at me to see if I understood.
she seemed anxious, and somewhat hungry
so we headed towards a patisserie in the Chinese
part of town and she ate a glutinous rice ball,
it stuck to her teeth and I marveled at the threads
of glutinous white stuff stretching from the ball
to her mouth as she devoured it.
I understood this,
the pleasure of eating, the sating of an appetite.
I didn't understand exactly why she was often
hungry in Boulder, perhaps just a warning
that when she arrived, I should always plan to
carry a treat or two for her as well as for Bella,
a handful of fresh cherries, a bar of dark chocolate
to carry her through until we can find something
more substantial.
I should always carry my wallet.
I can do these things.

El viaje de su vida

in reaching for a poetry book
i found a Spanish reader, una
novela breve y facil totalemente en
espanol. it is warped from a rain I
do not remember.
did I rescue it from flood waters,
or was it next to a leaking water bottle
in my pack?
when did I read it last
long ago as I don't remember the word
"vieje", which means trip in english.
yes, I am ready for another vieje
even having just returned home,
I want to see new, let me see with new
eyes what is old, in a new language.
I will open my eyes.

A Bonsai Forest in a world of Assumptions

I walk in my forest with my white friends,

we all talk the same talk, we walk the same walk,

we all live with white people in white houses

we do white jobs, we live the white life.

the blue sky overhead.

we only know the white life.

I walk in the courtyard with my black dog 

and meet a black man.  

his friends are white friends, his neighbors are black neighbors.

he says they are my people, but they are not my friends.

he talks with a different accent than my white friends,

he's a mean cook,

he sings,

he is not a white man, but he is not what I expected

because my eyes were only white eyes.

I see that my forest was a tiny forest in a bonsai garden

I need to see the rest of the world.

Lead me there.

No Poutine after all

Poutine

A Canadian specialty

we talked about it

but never ventured any further,

already bloated with cakes, croisssant and wine.

maybe next time,

cheese curds slathered over French fries,

bathed in beef gravy

Sounds delicious

for a 

Canadian.

Euthanasia

she keeps bringing it up as an appropriate topic,
not recognizing that she's talking to an "older person"
losing my mind, slightly sagging in places, eyes getting
a bit watery.
she brings up my hair style, my choice of dress,
my lack of style, my need to dress as an "older person",
and then that favorite topic of hers, euthanasia.
she hasn't gotten too far into the details but perhaps
she is developing her ideas on this for the "older people".
I'm sure I'll hear about it and we'll laugh,
perhaps uneasily, I'll look behind myself
and see a young person standing there
it's me.

The Beauty of Wisdom

We're not girls anymore,

close up, there are wrinkles around 

our eyes, age spots on our hands,

some of them may pass for freckles 

on our cheeks.

Smiles are ageless and if you look into

our eyes, you will see a sparkle.

you will see lives well lived,

lessons learned, loves come and gone,

no need for youth, there is wisdom

and beauty in our lives,

celebrate.