china blue eyed pretty grandma
walks the beach with her
beloved Cookie – mermaid crone who
clears the tangled seaweed from
past storms, picks up shells
and treasure, brings home words
and photos from her many
ports of call – I read her
Sacred Ordinary often and
wish her peace, rest, hope
oh my gosh he’s still
there on the banks of
Omak Creek still married to
his Indian princess he’s settled
there one who was so
alienated at the mission
one with whom I sat one
winter night in Indiana on
the swings in smoking silence
now he has a home
mellow worker mellow after work
few beers mellow mellow husband
pal (but more fervent father
to his little bird) mellow
armchair mellowness in front of
the TV mellow smile marshmallow
muscles hair of yellow floss
mellow helpful helped strungout D
shoot up in his bathroom
when she needed a fix
looks almost exactly like he
did in college, same long
straight hair and red-brown
moustache, but now more like
McGruff than then and why
not, he’s made a crusade
of fighting crime in the
most intense, successful way –
face-to-face humanity and hard
work – the ultimate pragmatic pacifist
my best friend in second
grade told me two untruths –
one, she had a dirt
collection stored in glass jars
in her closet – two, that
a plague was looming called
“the Blue Pox” – neither dirt
nor pox forthcoming, to my
vast disappointment slash relief –
it’s puzzling even now – why lie?
okay, here’s what happened: she
invites a bunch of girlfriends
over for a backyard campout
sometime in the night her
dad comes out slips his
hand oh so carefully into
the hand of sleeping girl
who wakes up startled by
his bulky hand in hers
his shadow near her head
are you a good witch
or a bad witch? she’s
a political witch, stirring, stirring,
always stirring, examining the fuming
cauldron closely, as though she
could read results there in
the steam before it blows
away, and thereby manipulate the
future with determination, woodsmoke,
spoons, and the law if necessary