Cotopaxi, Ecuador (summer 2012)

Sunday, September 20, 2020

the color blue was red

You may not know

when the storm blows in

or how many times the ticking clock

strikes noon.

you may arrive for the hanging judge

an hour or a minute too soon,

before the bartender pours his drink

for the gambler 

who takes a moment too long to think

which cards to keep and which ones to toss;

he couldn't afford another costly loss,

when a gentle woman of the evening 

gave him a crooked smile,

with her scarlet mouth and rosemary hips,

a friendly look with honey-colored lips.

she took her time to take him by the steady hand;

but did he really understand

there was always a price to pay? 

whether he took a walk down some dusty trail,

or spent quality time on her comfort bed,

or in the local sheriff's jail

where he could scratch his story on the nearest bloody wall

about how he remembered to walk 

only after he learned to crawl.

and his head held high!

but he didn't stop to wonder why

there was water flowing over the highest dam,

or out on the street a perpetual traffic jam,

with planes doing cartwheels down the side streets

and over the busy boulevards.

there was no place for a man who played his cards

close to his vest with suspicious, nervous eyes

in company with hustlers and a roving company of secret spies

from Washington and the velvet underground,

who wrote their headlines after and before

the holocaust and the thirty year war. 

there were everyday acrobats toasting with their evening meals,

and barnyard animals eating with their frightened squeals;

and hustlers selling books 

about silky mermaids with their fishy looks;

and a terrible avalanche disrupted central avenue

just to give the busy workingmen something else to do,

beyond the shopping sprees and the investing machine,

when the king appeared with his security and his virginal queen,

carrying bags of fool's gold behind the public scene,

proclaiming everything was normal and absolutely routine:

he spoke with a perfectly mellow voice

so no one had a care or a choice.

everything was as they said:

one plus one was three

and the color blue was red.

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Jessica in Madrid, Spring 2006

Jessica in Madrid, Spring 2006
daughter is empowering herself