Among the Windchimes

I was thinking that I would call you

around 4 o’clock but you died between 1 and 2

that same afternoon.

Sandra called me with the news.

Both of us unable to choke back the tears.

A light ocean breeze came in through the screen

door & I thought I heard windchimes, but

they were out on the patio at 2319 Louella Ave in Venice

in 1971. Dad was having a

smoke & you were laughing at my Don Ho imitation.

I had just seen you 3 weeks earlier,

a Christmas visit. You were so frail, had been sick since Thanksgiving.

I told Pamela I thought that this may be the last

Christmas with you as we drove past Rincon the

sunlight glittering on the water.

Talked to you on the phone shortly thereafter,

your voice weak. I told you to get better, because

I was going to take you out dancing on your 87th birthday.

We were going to “cut a rug”.

The hummingbird visited the feeder in your backyard

but it was empty. The house was full of family–

my brother & my sisters, nieces & nephews,

your grandchildren & great-grandchildren.

My heart fell flat as I entered. It was the first time I ever

visited your house without you there to greet me.

I kept my sunglasses on in St. Mark’s Church, the way you

often did when you went grocery shopping. With the shades, the

black suit jacket & skinny black tie I thought I

looked like one of the Reservoir Dogs but Alan said I looked

more like one of the Blues Brothers.

They have new stained glass windows in St. Mark’s.

The plaques representing the stations of the cross are

also new I think. Shadows danced across the altar all

during the service.

You told me once that you used to

talk to me when you were carrying me in utero

before I was born. So now I talk to you

after you’ve died.

I talk to you the way I did that aftrenoon,

out on the patio, among the windchimes,

& we heard a mockingbird singing in the avocado tree,

remember?

for Maxine Dorothy Opstedal, 1928-2015

Fringe Elements

The seabreeze played clawhammer banjo in the rain.

I was hoping you hadn’t noticed. Seagulls. Clawhammer. Wind.

Banjos in the rain.

Maybe you know what I mean. Maybe you’ve been there.

Playing Parmenides to my Heraclitus.  A not quite harmonic

convergence. 

Secrets buried beneath the waves.  From Point Dume to Rincon.

Seagulls cutting through the early morning mist.  Sand

scratching the bottom of the bowl.

I saw lights on the water like neon trembling that night

in Chapultepec.  I didn’t want to know what it meant.

Octavio Paz vs. Fu Manchu.

The tide comes in & swamps out the surf.  Drinks were served

out on the veranda.  I preferred the rainpuddles

in the parking lot.

Chinese checkers.  Correspondence.  Empty mind meets empty sky.

The source code of a generation.

Three Days Out

Magic fire wheel dragons in the seafoam

like votive candles flickering on the steps

of a Mexican church

the sky all decked out in turquoise & silver

I was feeling as responsible as a Hawaiian cocktail

spilled on the sidewalk at the foot of the pier

“Bone chance” as the Frenchman said

Salt mist leaning against the seawall like

a water damaged copy of the Manchurian Surf Almanac

Seashells in the sand, maybe diamonds

& writswatches…

It was Tuesday morning but felt like Sunday afternoon

Every card in the deck was the Jack of Hearts

& every blade of sand spoke Latin

w/a Japanese accent

The Way You Look Tonight

We were drinking sparking water

S. Pellegrino

“What’s the ‘S’ stand for?” she asked

“Steve,” I said

& the fog was rolling in

it rose from the beach like Godzilla

& slowly lumbered up Ocean

Street very deliberate

purposeful I thought yet mysterious

& damp I needed a shave

my sneakers were full of sand

the palm trees threw down shadows

the color of Guatemalan jade

We were called here to judge the pageant

although we know nothing of these things

of the two I suppose I’d choose the darker

more obscure version as it provides the

imagination with ample room for error

as if one were to read only the footnotes in

Ovid’s Metamorphoses

cross-referenced w/the way you look tonight