Spend more time in the water, I tell myself,

getting out of the Y pool and into the shower.

Two grand daughters curl into our arms

after vomiting all night. Grandma and Grandpa

time arrives in times like these. Times

are changing, just like Bobby Dylan sang

last night at the White House before
Barack and Michelle. My President.

Dylan sang the song like he believed,

but not in the changes taking place.

His fingers played high on the neck

of his guitar, and he did sing those

senators and congressmen out of his way.

I didn’t even mention it to Karen

this morning over coffee, waiting

for kids to arrive. Every singer should serve

part of his apprenticeship with L. Cohen’s

Alleluiah. I need only listen to one line,

…the baffled King composing, alleluiah.

Baffled King stops me cold, and I’m struck

again with composing. The baffled King composing

That David, strapped to his kitchen chair

utters at all, devastates. But one forgives all

when he gets to Alleluiah. 16 laps. That’s my

swimming the past two days. 16 makes

half a mile. Nine in a crawl,

and seven on my back. Two sick kids

grieving with me. They have cause.

Our young soldiers, warn out

from two wars, want alcohol.

Jim Bodeen

12 February 2010