Seeing Things

 

Sunny Meadow 29,5 x 20,5 cm mixed media on brown paper

SEEING THINGS

Domestic bliss was

not on the agenda.

Seeing through step-father # 1—socio-

pathic flim-flam artist with two

maybe three aliases and five marriages

on his rap sheet—for a few   

fairly adventurous years, then

clean through and right out the other  

side of step-father # 2, witlessly transparent,

arms and legs aggressive animals

not knowing who to hit or kick next; then another life   

later looking at a view from the cliff  

isle of Hydra 

one hot eucalyptus-scented day

swimming off the rocks with

three flight attendants from Quantas

eating feta for the first time ever

investigating the tannic properties of retsina

meeting a girl of such virtue

her skin left burn marks on my finger tips    

See the Acropolis

and die, no, that’s not it, see Naples and drop dead

or at least hallucinate

in a tall narrow alley-way where

squinting accurately I see

a mirage of the Roman empire

in the twenty first-century AD

birds in cages outside tiny windows

pumping out a little street music

and now we’re here

in the midst of a cease fire on the verge of truce

“Jungle Blues” on the turntable

fragrance of orange, of buttered toast and honey, coffee

good strong coffee and there you are old

enemy now nearly my best friend again wrapped up in

turquoise bathrobe smiling into a hand-painted tea cup

planning your day as if all you have ever known is peace.