January 15th, 2014
Tonight there are two very old and very small people
at the cafe. They lean together and share one bowl of soup.
Their coats hang on the empty chairs opposite them
as if their younger selves had been sitting there earlier.
They are gentle with the bowl, the spoon, and each other.
I think of the way their bones are closer to the surface now
and how this is what love has become, and how this is not
a reduction. This has become everything, these lines, the years
contained therein. Brett's eyes wrinkle with admiration
and as Joe leaves the table for the bathroom he glances
over his shoulder and smiles. My wine is done and I
only wanted one glass anyway. Earlier, as Genna and I
walked through Elizabeth park, the water reflected both
the sky and the riverbank, our breath like fog over everything.
Gold: conviction, quality and wealth.
ReplyDeleteThe riches of the world abound
in many forms they can be found
one man's coin, another's faith
both held dear in their own place
polished and perfected until they shine
the greatest in the world there is to find
both men striving for the best
before being laid to rest
neither knowing in the end
the true currency in the world of men
the pauper seen by both their eye
so rich in love to make one cry
moral of the story: diversify your portfolio bitches! :P