a window in my chest

a window in my chest
opens, people below are
reading and thinking--
occasionally talking
with one another--

on green benches
scattered across
a sunlit plaza

like fresh sentences
on first pages
of a novel where
something crucial
occurs when least
expected.

A young girl
scampers giggling
into a fountain
as two old men,
canes at their side,

cups of coffee in hand,
together nod
toward the child's
delight.

Suddenly a breeze
dances across my face,
turns this page

you arrive,
smiling.

That Day

One day I will
kiss your waiting
lips.

One day we shall
kiss, our happy

lips in a timeless
moment might
dance and mingle

in gold light. Yes
we will meet
and dance,

cavort and kiss,
sigh and dangle

near an edge
of wild
smiling

where we wile
and laze

the moonlit
night away.

Still, Life

He veers bent over
like a has-been Southern mayor
or a crippled parsnip

and toddles into Wal-Mart
"for just a couple things"

on a gray Monday afternoon
past the dented cars
and homeless shopping carts

left for dead on the outskirts
of the mall.

Air sticky as flour
and desolate as bruised
peaches leaking
juices onto his hands

from tenements stacked
next to purple plums
hard as stone,

this still life reflects
back at the old man
making his way

through the onions
and rhubarb
and chard.

Outside, behind the steering
wheel of my parked car,
I wait for dad and write

down these lines
before our wordless
drive home.