THURSDAY, IN FEBRUARY,
TWO DAYS BEFORE VALENTINE’S
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.
12 February 2010