Saturday, December 7, 2013

the last straw (touching)

the last straw (touching)

“The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener
is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not
have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.”
—Granger to MontagFahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury

“You were only waiting for this moment to be free”
“Blackbird,” The Beatles

it was only ever you
who really knew me
the exposed me and the true
and i suppose that was the final straw

i tried to take you
for sushi once
but the restaurant was closed
so we had Thai instead

then later at a bar nearby
i cried talking about my daughter
because i am the type of crier
who makes others turn away

and now some times
i pretend we are alone
listening to “Blackbird”
on The Beatles’ White Album

sharing a beer from a can
and talking about the novels
i have gathered
on a shelf only for you

i am sitting alone at a bar with friends gathered for a holiday party

adults hold babies and beers while children weave through the talking

one father stands in a small group his daughter close with her back to him

he reaches almost without looking tucking her exposed shirt tag under the collar

then he gently rubs the curve of her spine along her impervious child’s neck

and there in that touching and her still everyone else disappears and then silence

as i drift on that father’s love of a child once again back to you humming “Blackbird”

No comments:

Post a Comment