New Year's Eve at the Gate

 

I wait

Outside the walls

to wish you

Happy New Year

It's late and cold

and everyone has

Gone into the town

to find warmth

While outside

I wait

Watching to see if you

come through the gate

To find warmth

Lost at Sea

She couldn’t stop laughing as she ran

up the beach towards the blanket

I was coughing and spluttering

sea water running from my nose

and dribbling down my chin

Trying to do a handstand in the surf

had turned out to be a bad idea

I staggered along behind her

choking and laughing at the same time

She was toweling off as I reached the blanket

I came up behind her and grabbed her around the waist

lifting her off the sand and twirling her around

She screamed

Eeeek!

The Swamp Thing!

We fell to the blanket and I buried my face

against her neck and blew raspberries

Nooo!

She said, pulling away

Then she took my face in her two hands and kissed me

It was a long, wet, salty kiss

a sea kiss and

I wanted to drown in it

She lay back on the blanket and I leaned over her

and brushed her wet hair from her forehead

I kissed her eye lids

I kissed her ear and nibbled her ear lobe

then kissed the nape of her neck

and moved my tongue down her neck toward her collarbone

licking salt and sunblock that hadn’t already come off in the water

She said Mmm

and put her hand behind my head

tunneling her fingers through my wet hair

I put my lips on the surgical scar she had on her neck

just under the chin and gently kissed it

I ran my hand down her thigh

She pushed my head back and sat up

Come on you vampire

We’re going up to the cottage

I come back every year at this time

to walk along the shore

and watch the sea change color

as twilight approaches

and the clouds take on a pink hue

I come upon a flock of Sandpipers

scampering back and forth at the shoreline

chasing the waves out

darting here and there

looking for sand fleas

When they spot the bubble of the sand flea’s digging

they drive their long beaks down

after the many-legged morsels

But of course the waves turn

and flow back towards shore

and these silly birds turn

and dash back

and follow the retreating waves back again

hoping to recapture what’s been lost

When I approach

they take flight

sweeping this way and that

in perfect formation

their bellies and backs

alternately flashing white and black

like sun streaming through the whirling blades of a fan

Walking along the beach

I think about those last days we had together

They were such a gift

The clouds are beginning to look bruised

their dark underbellies threatening rain

What was a gorgeous sunset is now

the dark foreboding of a storm

and wind whipped waves are crashing

all along the endless shore

I stand and look out across the roiling ocean

I want her back

Oh My Heart / Il Mio Cuore

I love you

Oh my heart

I love you

Will I ever see you again?

I love you

Oh my heart

As my days come to an end

Will I ever see you again?

How happy I was then

Loving you

Oh my heart

How I loved you then

Joy

And passion

Filled my days

And thoughts of you

And now

So far

Far away

So long ago

Listen

Softly

Softly

The wings of a butterfly

Sent to find you

Watch for it in your garden

When the spring comes

In the warmth of the sun

Oh my heart

My love

My love

My love

Ti amo
Oh, il mio cuore
Ti amo
Riuscirò mai a vedere di nuovo?

Ti amo
Oh, il mio cuore
Come i miei giorni hanno una fine
Riuscirò mai a vedere di nuovo?

Come ero felice allora
amarti
Oh, il mio cuore
Come ti ho amato allora

Gioia
e passione
Riempito i miei giorni
E pensieri di voi

e ora
finora
lontano
Tanto tempo fa

Ascolta
silenziosamente
silenziosamente
Le ali di una farfalla

Inviato a trovarti
Guarda per esso nel vostro giardino
Quando la molla viene
Nel calore del sole

Oh, il mio cuore
Il mio amore
Il mio amore
Il mio amore

The Dream

I dreamt of you last night

I was lying next to you

and leaned over to kiss you

You were looking at me

and seemed so serious

I kissed you

and you didn't close your eyes

I kissed you again

and again

But you didn't return my kisses

You looked at me

with what I realized was sadness

What's wrong

You were silent

And then I woke

I lay there

thinking of you

Why didn't you return my kisses

I wanted to go back to sleep

I wanted to go back to the dream

I wanted to keep on kissing you

I wanted to feel your breathe on my cheek

I wanted you to kiss me back

I wanted you

I wanted the dream back

All Hearts Break

Don’t cry baby

Baby don’t cry

All hearts break

All dreams die

Never

Happened yesterday

Never

Once again

Dancing

On a street of glass

Yesterday was just pretend

All hearts break

All dreams end

Yesterday

Never happened

Yesterday was just pretend

You’ll know when you wake

That all dreams end

And all hearts break

Baby

Baby

Baby

Wake and say goodbye

All hearts break

All dreams die

Yes

I asked her with my eyes
To ask me with her eyes
Do you still love me?
Yes
With my eyes
I told her
Yes
Yes I do

I Heard a Cry in the Night

I heard a cry in the night,
A thousand miles it came,
Sharp as a flash of light,
My name, my name, my name.
It was your voice I heard,
You waked and loved me so
I send you back this word,
I know, I know, I know.

He fell in love with her just listening to her voice. But who was she?

He was in a military hospital in Germany listening to a BBC news broadcast from Jordan. Spacey on pain meds, he missed the commentator’s introduction and before the woman had finished her story and signed off with her name, his doctor had come in with a small contingent of interns to review his case.

He’d held up his hand and said, “Wait!”

The doctor, who was an Air Force major, simply reached over the bed rail and shut off the radio. Turning to his audience of bored looking trainees, the doctor began discussing him as if he were a static display on the flight line.

“This Air Force lieutenant sustained multiple injuries ejecting from his aircraft, the most serious being injury of the cervical spine, including ligament injury C5-6 and a sliding of the C6 relative to the C5. Any questions?”

He had questions, but the major wasn’t talking to him.

He wanted to know if he’d walk again. He wanted to know when he’d be released. He wanted to know who the woman on the radio was.

His injuries would heal completely in time, although he’d have neck and back pain for the rest of his life. He was released from the hospital with a neck collar the following weekend. A month later he met a medical board, was told he could no longer fly, and was given a choice of a desk job or a disability discharge without severance. He chose the latter and started looking for the woman whose voice still murmured in the silences between his far off gaze, and his late night dreams.

#

During the ten years that he searched for the woman he went to graduate school, earned a dual master’s degree in journalism and international affairs, became a leading newspaper’s Middle Eastern Correspondent, and traveled extensively to countries where he thought he might cross paths with the woman whose voice he knew he would instantly recognize.

During that period of his life he met numerous women, many professionals like himself, with whom he shared intimate moments, some on more than one occasion, and with some women who made it clear that they were interested in more than a superficial connection. But he was haunted by a vision of a woman he had created elementally, from the tone, the timber, the modulation, the melody of a voice, heard once, as a disembodied phantom of the electromagnetic spectrum.

#

He is approaching his late-thirties, his black hair is still thick and unruly, but his hairline has receded slightly, and there is just the touch of grey at the sides. He often has a three or four day’s growth of stubble on what was once a chiseled face, but now begins to look craggy and seamed from days in the hot desert sun. He looks perpetually tired, which is reflected in his hazel eyes, which seem lighter against his sun darkened skin, and there is a far off look in them that some women interpret as disinterest and others, perhaps more perceptive, see as loneliness.

On assignment in Bahrain, he is listening for her now among the babble of voices echoing across the conference room where discussions are underway about the Western media’s “unfair” reporting on the government’s treatment of its Shiite minority. Doubt begins to creep into his mind.

Inshallah, will he find her? Will she be what he has imagined her to be all these many years? Will they live happily ever after? He wonders, if he does not, if she is not, if they do not, then what is he to believe about Allah, the merciful?

Words from the Quran come unbidden into his mind. Do you worship what you have carved yourself?

#

The hotel in Kabul is fronted by a keep-out zone to prevent terrorists from ramming a bomb-laden car into the hotel entrance. The zone is created by a courtyard, raised beds of roses and dahlias, and a center fountain. He thinks of his father’s backyard as the heavy scent of roses opening wide in the late morning sun reaches him.

Glancing at the TV above the reception desk as he shows his identification, he sees that the correspondent’s breakfast meeting has already started. A colleague from his newspaper is summarizing the purpose of the meeting, and emphasizing the importance of shared security for journalists covering events in the Middle East. As he turns from the desk to make his way to the conference room he hears a woman’s voice on the TV that stops him cold. Her voice. She is asking a question. He listens for a moment allowing her voice to wash over him like a warm sea. Then he turns towards the TV.

He experiences the explosion as a kaleidoscope of burst ear drums, shattering glass, blinding dust, violent motion; a terrible dance that ends in disorientation, and searing pain.

#

He is old now. He lives in the north, where winter is never far off and where the morning cold rekindles the pain in his limbs and reminds him that he is still alive. The winds can be fierce, rattling the double pane windows of his house, but he cannot hear this sound, nor any other. 

He moves slowly, feeling his way around the small house by memory. He finds his way to the porch and reaching behind, finds the arm of a chair. He sits, raises his face to the morning sun, and closes his eyes.

And he listens.

Lost and Found and Lost

I found the music cassette
After all these years
Dropped out of a box
of old videos
(I don't even have a VCR anymore)

I looked and looked for it
I don't know why
Just because you recorded it
These were the songs
That meant something to you then

"Who Wants to Live Forever"
The hell with everything
We were in  love
I was writing poetry
Like a lovesick teenager

I listen now
And can't find the words
But the feelings?
They still come
Overwhelming me again

Who dares to love forever

Love in Retrospect

He stood looking out across the Stadt Park; back in Vienna after so many years. He remembered it had been about this time of year. The skies were overcast, and a fine mist meandered through the park. The damp cold seemed to find ways to seep through his sweats as he jogged along the wet path, hop-scotching puddles. Russian crows were strutting through the carpet of leaves bordering the footpath. They flew to bare branches complaining in loud cacaws at his intrusion. He had stopped, hands on knees, catching his breath. He couldn’t stop thinking of her despite trying to run himself into unconsciousness.

Back at the K&K Hotel, he'd showered and dressed. He was early. She’d invited him to dinner . “Christmas dinner,” she’d said, although it wasn’t yet Christmas, and they wouldn’t spend Christmas together, ever, as it turned out. He'd paced the room for as long as he could stand it, and then left for her flat on Operngasse.

Garlands of lights were being strung across Kartnerstrasse. A tree had already been placed in the middle of the broad walk. On the Graben, workmen were struggling to erect a set of huge stars. The up-scale stores were setting up their Christmas decorations. He’d be leaving Vienna for Istanbul first thing in the morning. He'd miss the displays, the Kris Kringle Markt, and the caroling. And although he didn't know it at the time, he'd never again see the only woman he’d ever truly loved.

Peanut Butter

I shudder
at the thought of peanut butter
Brown, gooey, sticky stuff
that makes you choke and sputter
You can eat and eat, but never get enough

Spread it on some bread
or just eat it off the knife
Go on, go ahead
why not risk your life?

Oh, oh, shudder, shudder
All that lovely peanut butter

But have you read the news?
The stuff’s got salmonella
It’s given me the blues
That stuff could kill a fella!

But here I am still thinking
about a midnight snack
My willpower quickly sinking
I shudder on the rack

Shudder, shudder
Peanut butter
Mutter, mutter
Peanut butter

Yes, eating it could kill me
or make me very sick
but there is no guarantee
so spread it on real thick

Hmm, peanut butter
I cannot, will not give it up
Though it makes my heart valves flutter
I’ll eat it by the cup

I love it
love it
love it

Who would not die for love?

He decided then that he would love her forever

Then, after she had disappeared into the woods, he lay in the water for another ten minutes feeling the kiss many times. He decided then that he would love her forever no matter what came to pass. It was not so much a matter of deciding as accepting the inevitability of it.

from Snow Falling on Cedars, by David Guterson, 1995

Cannon Beach, Oregon, October 2008

River Walk

I left my love behind, and hid my thoughts of her in the labyrinth of my mind. I walked along the river, watching the waves and whirls and waiting for the pain to wash away. And here I am again, wondering if it ever will. Willing myself to walk away again. Wondering if I will.