a skateboarder,
twenty-one years my junior blasts by
taking one lane of the road
pococurante
grabbing my attention
you can learn a lot about authenticity by a push
this young man is the real thing
inside the bookshop, I can’t find much Robinson Jeffers.
I hear that this is the case with this California poet
I finger through one slim volume but no words grab my attention
I put it back on the shelf and suddenly realize there are a lot of great poets between
J and O
among them
Leroi Jones
Mary Oliver
I pick up a collection by Mary Oliver
and read a great poem about death
and that’s me and $20
easily separated
outside the bookshop
the same skateboarder is sitting down
reading Hesse’s Siddhartha
twenty-one years ago I wouldn’t have said anything to him
but today I say, “That’s a good one.”
he grunts back “It sure is.”
I still love this city
but
I can’t wait to get into the woods with Mary.
