Listening to Myself

Part I

crashing sounds
constant
like backfires
of vehicles
in the sixties,
intentional,
disturb my
peace-of-mind
relaxation
and contentment
on the southeast
coastline of
the southern states
not too far
from my home;

Part II

the first day
out of seven
since the rains
appeared and
decided to remain
for the weather
and summer's brevity
before returning
to their northern
destinations;


Part III
mystery or uncertainty
we claim to know both
simmering in our
beach chairs,
feet outstretched,
knowing
all we need to know
at least
for the moment
or so it seems
until
we realize
how many years
have passed
unnoticed;

Part IV

time beckons us
inside her
as if our final
womb,
or coffin
if you will
announcing our
final conditions
of maturity
before we realize
death
does not do us part
but unites us
with our past
leaving
our future behind
to become
another's past;

Part V

and, so we shift
our chairs
around
to catch the shade
and diet
of Vitamin D
diminishes
with the day
just as our seat
diminishes
with its comfort;

Part VI

noticing,
like we always do
but ignoring
the strangers
who
interfere with our
self-awareness
or
introspection
as if it were
just
being here
and
not there,
yet,
oftentimes
realizing how
desperately we
need each other,
even though
we dare not
admit it
or
admit the fact
that age
has finally provided
us with a
different outlook.

18 August 2019