It seems my whole life was preparatory to leaving America to live in Europe and yet it's such a singular experience that only one in a thousand would even know what I mean. |
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Here and ThereTook nine months to learnthe soap in my dish scrubber runs out too fast when filled more than halfway Strange way to spend nine months Not the only thing I learned, but it seems significant and I wonder at that Learned to care about myself, that I may be overfilled and running out Learned to clean the toilet, disengaged from television, stepped down from wanting things Saw things inside, darker, brighter things An emerging of the submerged Funny stuff, great stuff, meaningless stuff What’s it like to live in a foreign land, a city not your own? they ask Inquiring minds want to know That’s what they say, but not for long, distracted by planning dinner, remembering last night’s fight No lessons there to draw from someone else, not that mean a damn You might wonder at that Simpler here, but I’m prevented by language from understanding their take on a spiritless, dominated life controlled by others All those heavy boots and heavy years I smile to write that, examine the domination of my life, lived free, or so I thought, we all hear boots imagined And I wonder at that Friends and work here are different from friends and work back there Back there is where I come from, home is here A meaningless distinction to you, it’s not to me Work here is eager, pulls me, quickly focused and slowly observed A city of friends coming, friends going, a constancy of turnover deprivation A lot at stake in friendship, all of us broke amidst baroque, circling wagons, writing, wasting time, investing time Pull of the leash, looking up in wonder, having coffee and talking it over Standing in cold, lying in sun, waiting for a night-tram, enfolded by a city And I wonder at that What about your life, the one you chose or allowed others to choose? Does it warm you, let you lie in grass, shake off the cold, like mine? Are you lonely out there, or is someone loving you? Is there a pull at your leash, will you write, or has distance taken us too far? I wonder about that, as well |
This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection THE SMELL OF TWEED AND TOBACCO available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats. |