—Lewis Warsh
Another happy thing that comes with wisdom
is reliving the moments of pleasure and allowing
harsh times to dissipate, holding no resentment.
Assuredly, I have most always been this way,
and cannot understand the concept of revenge.
Perhaps this is something of me (innate,
certainly not genetic), rather than a gift
from years and experience. A boy just
told me he loved me on a dancefloor. My
father would have been sixty today. Of this
I wrote “I am now the better him.” Today
(when he would be sixty-five), I say
with confidence, “I am now me.” We
should have spent the night in each other’s
arms. Note to Bill: You’ll love that in one
of the last poems I wrote, I tried to use the
word “blather” – however, I looked it up in
my small dictionary and it wasn’t there. So
I changed it to “bleat”. My family calling
is shepherding. Dark purple clouds in the
west. Otto is at work in the kitchen (at his
laptop). I am cognizant of a vector of love (life),
purposeful in its haphazardness, from there to
there to here. This is the best day of my life.
