I’ve lingered long in the bathroom Reading poetry. Amazed there’s no bleeding. Amazed at just how empty I’ve become.
There’s noise out on the sidewalk Where the sidewalk is Not a scene, But simply seen.
Where it’s likely A hummingbird shows up – Like always – To flit and zip before My bulging eyes. Eyes desperate for All of it. Where greedy’s not such a bad thing.
Or maybe a crow, That shimmering in the day, winged-flapping avian sideshow.
The long view in the park stretches Past Point Loma, Past St. Louis, Past all those little league days Of a childhood. To circle the globe Is to appreciate breakfast, Maybe hope for supper. When all the while there’s something Flying someplace.
It’s not the destination, Kid, It’s the flying. Haven’t I figured that out By now?