you you & you

an ancient place

with you you & you

three women of a certain age

sitting on a ridge in the sun

top of the stone quarries

where they never say the name

of the furry long ear

with the white bob tail

I took the photograph

of you you & you

you never loved me

fighting me for nine years

you learned to love me

over thirty years

& you

you loved me from the start

recognising a fellow soul

a joyful happy heart

no hurts intended

& if only

I could have traded

your places in my life

what the world

would have been

relieved in a look

we met

parted

we met again long time later

over indifferent coffee

looking within a look

who would cave first?

who would be confessor

who the priest?

would there be absolution?

I caught your gaze

eyes under darkened lashes

tell me I said how you are

& your gates opened

telling tales of everything

no dam to your flow

as I heard again over

your pet peeves

angst of unrequited loves

men who never quite fit

the pattern in your head

much as I once did not

& I noticed your eyes

not ever focussing on mine

I was finally off the hook

now just a bucket for your woes

I was relieved by a look

voice on the radio

driving to the store

thinking of nothing

maybe chips dips

the kind you find everywhere

& your voice came on the radio

though it could not be you

this being another time place

different country

& if I thought I was over you

the tones coming into my car

made me change that understanding

brought you closer in

stabbed me hard in the feels

even if I would not want you here

want you back again

where now

Caesar knew of this

where now

I stop to look

see if I can see

the kingfisher

fronds wailing in the water

flies hovering the shine

minnows tight to the bank

he would know

the same as I do

this river is not the same

as the one I played along

& in

as a child

yet it is the same

& ever will be

so

a Mexican name

in Tijuana

just south of the border

for a five-dollar ride

ten if you don’t haggle

the taxi will drop you

by the first of the signs

buy Viagra here

& the guy standing there

wears a white coat

to promote

the idea of a pharmacy

& depending on you

your clothes

your wallet

he will sell you Cialis

which ought to be

a Mexican name

but is not

get out

I get out while I can

if people get rough

situations turn ugly

learning young

from my elders

when they thought

I was not listening

hearing them talk on me

he’ll make a good foreman

earning a wage in the truck factory

I got out of there fast as I could

maybe not making great choices

didn’t always the sky get to see

I don’t mind standing my ground

if there is a good place to stand

but when the talk turns ugly

its best to get out while you can

keep on going until later

you find a better place to land

low victories

I hear them out

nodding along sympatico

listening to low victories

she said so I said

he turned to me

& on infinitum

wondering just where

when

their fire went out

these were people

gonna be in movies

rock stars from the garage

creating making writing

subsumed into sad moves

he thought he could cheat

so I burned all his clothes

scratched his car

called his boss reported

as they then subside to tears

these low victories

are never enough

to plant a flag upon

say

I was here

in the saltwater gained

promises made

written somewhere

on lost papers

in the saltwater gained

who I’d be

what I would do

how things

our lives would change

& now

they lie forgotten

just another set

of cold nights

lying alone

semi drunk prayers

drifting into dead air

for lost lovers

half-forgotten friends

sulky solemn things we say

& the promises made

driftwood & sand

on the currents of another life

our fading days

hollow eyes & all too tender

hollow eyes

& all too tender

bones

she read

got Nietzsche

she said

Sartre Kerouac

loved The Doors

& tho’ we spoke of Jim

she never spoke of the others

caught by his poetry

looks & more

the great writers too

never got a mention

tho’ I was willing

to be wrong learn more

hear another’s view

& when she left

to go on to make babies

the books were left

by the trash cans

the back door

crowd

times I had a crowd

others

was just me

walking alone

& I enjoy both

though if I have to choose

I’ll take the solitary path

anytime

the crowd has needs

got to be fed

new information

fresh fads

gossip to go

& I never quite know

why they flock the way they do

saying one thing

doing another

saying yes & being no

setting themselves

others up to fail

the who else will be there?

thing of cliques claques

until they rift apart

& I’m walking alone

again