sitting in the cafe

"not as sad as dostoyevsky. i'm not as clever as mark twain. i'll only read a book for the way it looks, and then i'll stick it on the shelf again."





didn't you know, i've grown old in the time that it took for the rain to come.
i welcomed it as my mother, bid it stay a long while.
i wish the clouds and rain were immortal, ceaseless drizzle, unending fog
it suits me.

i am not In Love any more.
didn't you know, i dug my muddy grave on those moony nights.
i was like the townfolk astounded by my own resurrection
as a woman.

i'm walking 'round the wheel.
like the wheel at the sanctuary all those years ago,
made of stones in the tall grass. i'm walking round the wheel,
toward more walking.

i welcome autumn as a glimpse of winter.
i am ready to wrap my self in my self
pick up a book and put it back on the shelf
and walk 'round the wheel again.