I am hanging to the outside of a creature,
ripe with experience,
one brain cell of a new being.
Conscious of something new?
aware? growing?
projected to the whole world?
Is it inside me?
Who leads and thinks by talking?
and then makes it a challenge not to roll back on promises made,
and then make good on ones we cannot.
We are still twiddling our thumbs.
My son Arjun,
has a hat pulled over his face
on the sidewalk
near the Bedford Hotel.
A grown up five year old
standing beside his mother
looking at me as I drive away
hoping very much that I would take him somewhere
here in New York City.
My daughter Maya
climbs onto my back
giggling, shrieking with laughter
nibbles on my ear.
Dreams, more active dreams . . .
A terrible cataclysmic fight with Ami on Sunday
after the one right before Stevo’s fortieth birthday on Saturday
that left us numb
couldn’t communicate
bag in hand off to New York
the kids hang with their mother,
I'm outcast.
I shiver down to Mott Street after a frantic drive
and awake afraid
in early predawn
call my sleepless wife,
who cries when she hears my voice
I return that very morning
A large note and heart proclaiming her love.
She left the heat on,
and chocolate cake in the refrigerator.
Two days with family in all their fullness.
