Photographs, Conversations, Disinterest

Posted: December 29, 2013 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Where would I rather be?

There are people here

who do not know me.

I know only their blood, not

their histories.

They talk of people I know,

the gray lady who died, my cousins;

they peruse photographs,

sorting and arranging landscapes.

I find it all uninteresting.

I distance myself–

a pale carp apart from these squawking birds.

As intriguing as

blue glass glaciers in Canada

and enormous fallen trees in California are

I’d rather their mysteries be saved for me,

for when I am old enough to journey

and pull the curtain of fog away

for even a small glimpse

at the present,

but these people are stuck

in the past.

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