It’s the smoke off a cigarette
the trail of a comet tailing
the way the residue of breathing
hangs in cold dawn air
it’s the look of knowing
shared between two lovers
the way a caress skims the skin
leaves a tingle after-flowing
it’s the way gnats swarm in evening air
the way a child heaves after crying
it’s the way a tear travels a cheek
drips into space
only the groove of wet remains
or maybe
it’s the way a dog cries and whines
the lingering tones of need after
the owner is gone
The guy at McDonald’s doesn’t know…
It was a bitch to get moving this morning
because a million speckled memories of past
mistakes, regrets, sad hours, memories held
me to the bed as I tried to wake up.
The guy at McDonald’s doesn’t know…
the effort it took to “put on my face”
and spike up my hair, searching every kitchen
drawer for a smile to wear and looking in each
closet to find the twinkle missing from my eyes.
The guy at McDonald’s doesn’t know…
I’m swimming around buoys and running down
rabbits in the field in my mind most days trying
to find the course syllabus for life at 53 after
the end of a 20 year marriage & a million lost
dreams that danced a jig out the door with the X.
The guy at McDonald’s doesn’t know any of this
as he leans out the window awed and thrilled
by the sexy black Audi holding a smiling blonde,
purse dog riding shotgun, and asks in excited tones:
“Are you the Cool Grandma or the Cool Aunt?”
I’m the Cool Grandma I say …. Grateful
that the word Cool is still in style.
Hours whisper sighs
as the birds swim by
a marigold cuts cartwheels
some angel is digging
a trench. . .
And then, you drop words
like a farmer planting —
dig the earth, turn,
trembling hand
fleck the seed
a story springs
to vibrant life, turn
of phrase or memory
or living life a life
living still the images
coalesce and pictures
move to the memories
flowing like water toward
the sea and I See
the past open
like a crevice drops
away from the land above
into dark otherworld caverns
of muted light and hours
pass this way — open opening
opened heart that hears as I
Listen…
Marissa Colleen Mullins 