He was never one to go searching.
It took up too much time.
It certainly took far more effort
than the results usually warranted.
And there wasn’t anything in particular
he wanted to go in search of.
She said she was searching for ecstasy.
He said he could buy it downtown,
but it had grown rather pricey.
She said she meant that state of being,
that state of spiritual perfection.
He said you couldn’t buy that downtown,
though there were a couple of pastors
in the suburbs who claimed to be able,
for a proper donation, to provide it.
She said she couldn’t pay for what
was promised in the Bible,
she would simply search and wait.
She had faith.
He said he had searched
for faith once, and failed.
That, he said, was when
he gave up searching for things.
Magellan set sail 497 years ago,
which had nothing to do with her desire
to find a corner in which she could stand,
protected on two sides, and still
stare out into the world and see
all that was going on around her.
Better still if it were fashioned
of plexiglass, it could surround her
fully, as long as sound could get in,
and she could be fully engaged
in life without the risks that others
always seemed to drag in their wakes.
It wasn’t that she didn’t need people,
she just needed them at the proper
distance and most could never
determine what that distance
might be despite her entreaties.
Magellan would die a year and a half
later, a mistake she would never make.
She’s getting downright boring,
every night lying up there,
staring down when she decides
to part the clouds, saying nothing,
as though all of the words of praise
for her must come for us, unreturned.
I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised
by her vanity, it is why, after all,
she is up there now, unable to move
and we have to accept that our words
are small salve to her when the gods
invert her, and she is left
to gaze down upon us in her mirror
when she bothers to stop
gazing at her own image, but she says,
“I have all eternity, Poseidon be damned.”
He asks when
as if it were all
a matter of timing
as if the immediacy
or lack of it
somehow really mattered.
She would never ask that
but would want
to know who.
She’s far too polite
to ever ask why
preferring to see the scene
in the mind’s eye
allowing a thin
veil of mystery.
Each wants to know
how the other found out
though neither has
the slightest idea
where this all began.
I stumbled in love
with you, she said,
because I’ve always
had this great fear
of falling. It must
come from my childhood
though I can’t recall
any specific incident,
just the deep bruises
my parents left
when they fell,
out of the love
I thought had
to last forever.
She wants to ask me
how many lawyers
can dance on the head
of a pin, but she knows
that at their hourly rates
no one will pause
to count them. There is
that and the fact
that lawyers are used
to calling the tune,
not dancing to it.
There is that, she says,
and lawyers are never
mistaken for angels.
Baby Blue stormed
into the room.
Jones never saw
her coming, was
Angry didn’t cover
even the half of it.
“I’ll tell your sorry ass
when it’s over Jones
and not the other
way around, got it!?
Oh, yeah, and by the way
you are really
packing on the pounds
of late, so pretty soon
you’ll just have
to change your weary tune
like it or not.”