Cast by a jealous wind and
I found myself
in Montevideo: to
realize
That every city in the world
Has something for me:
A park where the people and the green
Gather in some kind of ancient revolutionary agreement
A bar I want to inhabit each rich translucent day
A family I could love
And have love me
A shining flower I have never seen
An object that demands to be carried away
A music that moves me toward my hidden generous self
A tragedy so dark that I can never overcome it
No matter how large my heart
A heart so large it hears me whispering in a foreign tongue
And answers
A pair of eyes I cannot seem to discard
A poverty so deep it dismembers me
Opens me like a surgery
And shares divinity’s regard for humanity:
Where generosity
Is gathered like a ripe fruit
in the meanest of circumstances, yet
lost somehow among the possessions
of those who rule this world so badly.
box turtle road 