for Jon
urban lake to our right
asphalt path
bikers and walkers
going past
we talk of our children
glands, lesions,
injections
healthcare
gone amok
I have known your wise
eyes for 17
years
but sometimes nothing is enough
and this is all
a joke
in a sense but
more serious also
than cancer
itself
the heart is a muscle
but metaphorically
it is not even inside
us
scattered all
over
the world
we go out to it always
in our desire
and compassion
and it breaks
everyday
if we care enough
the pleasure in doing harm
is boundless
the pleasure
of caring takes
work and focus
this world is too much,
sometimes: you
talk
of a book that says
the
so-called bipolar
make the best
leaders
at times of crisis because
they are realistic, creative,
empathetic, and
resilient
Abraham
Lincoln is exemplary
maybe “normality” is craziness
a way of lying
and assuming into being
a world that
doesn’t
exist — harm can
only
result
traffic on road ringing lake
overcomes the
singing birds
a slow
runner waddles by
wishing to
lose weight?
good luck to him
and I complain about the heat in my apartment
you talk of
humidity
an oldest child
going
to college in a
month:
old age doesn’t sneak up
it suddenly
appears
and
constricts our heart
muscle and
metaphor
this day isn’t this day
it is our wishes
and projections
our whole last
week heaped
and what we hope
heaped onto
that
this day sits well outside
our concerns
some sort of
moving
in the air some
sort
of lapping at the
edge of the lake
we will die not knowing where we lived
having cared too,
too much
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