there! there!
I shout
pointing out
there in the scrub of the high plains
to see a rock brown man
blanket over shoulders
herder of a large flock
she sees her first shepherd
live & counting
though she doesn’t understand
my excitement
seeing him doing his job
miles from anywhere
keeping the link alive
between us him our ancestors
who came this way
herding sheep goats cattle
feeding the village the pueblo
the tribe fed in winter
her not understanding
demonstrating how easy
that connection is lost
at the airport Alicante
got shit to do
drinking coffee at tim hortons
looking out the window
knowing for sure
less than 10 miles away
is the perfect spot to sink a few
watch the sun set in a blaze of gold
as the sea ripples in
soft & low
& in the morning the light
comes up slow
a hint of pink in an ink black sky
as the temperature rises
I can sit there for days
& have done before
making a week last
a fortnight
until regretful comes the time
to go
just not today
today we’re dropping off loved ones
will drive on elsewhere
knowing that place
will still be there
for another day
unadorned
this face changes
only for
the seasons
state of tired
the years
I’m reflecting on this
while she fusses & fiddles
with paints & cosmetics
re arranges her hair
for the nth time
then there will be
eyes to put in
lippy to put on
while I growl around
grumpy
looking at my watch
thinking of the drive
the people going to see
to catch sight
of my face in the mirror
to wonder
how much time it might take
if I were to put on
my best face
he sends a pic
a card a bottle
a shot
a caption
to absent friends
& though I am there
in the crowd
he has reached in
pulled me out
leaving me
standing alone
top of the hill
toasting to the loss
the death
of a great friend
& to my ever sorrow
I did this more than the once
creating a ritual
I make my way to the bar
order a shot
raise the glass high
say the words
to absent friends
which is never enough
is it?
frightened dogs
&
angry women
need
calm
&
the patience
to wait
until they
are ready
to come to
you
she is gone now
reminded of that
& her
with Neil Young on the radio
those early evenings then
those long players rolling
in the background
poor as church mice
sharing whatever we had
while we talked of life
all other things
we knew nothing
though we knew full
we knew everything
such is the way of youth
& she is gone now
that is the real truth
taken so early
while others live on
a poor Harvest
for me
never was
a last goodbye
that I recall
with any certainty
maybe a peck on the cheek
a see you later
but no
& if I did not know
that was our last time
did you?
did you take a long look
& decide
that this would be the
letting go?
if so I can live with that
the idea
the badness is all yours
even if all the sadness
resides
over here
so many
did not make it to here
though there are no medals
ribbons or honours
all we did
was one foot in front of the other
take in
the next breath & the one
after that
some just fell asleep
others battled with cancers
illnesses the virus’
car crashes motorcycle mayhem
clown slips on ice
falls pratfalls the kki’s
winnowing
thinning out
this easy to kill
herd
no medals no honours
but a gratitude
our turn has yet
to come
there are no descriptions
here
of those supposed
to be the great
& the good
here are my friends
enemies
& me
made of the earth
foul mouthed
livers of lives
lived by the many
not the few
to be payers of bills
persecuted from an early age
the cannon fodder
to fight in wars
we never started or wanted
only given to us
as things that must be done
won
for glory we never
get to share
she speaks now
from outside the door
when once before she’d come in
put her hand on my shoulder
only to jump at my own flinch
the surprise I’d shout out
but now it’s:
can I get you anything?
setting the tone
not wanting to press on
the ptsd of unwanted touch
instinctive learned behaviours
inflicted imposed by those
who know no better
than their own needs
neilbenbow 