Have you ever needed to get away? Where did you? Here’s an idea.
I’m preparing to go,
visit the past,
talk with whom I was yesterday.
First, I must brush this lint
off my shirt, swish mouthwash
between my teeth,
stir it with my tongue.
I considered a gift, flowers,
a small bundle, lilies, white,
clustered about a crimson rose,
but flowers never impress me,
nor does a bottle of wine
or a casserole, hot and wet,
in a brown dish with a glass lid.
I’m far too simple. Perhaps, my smile
will do, a firm handshake,
a few clever words scratched
on a wrinkled square of paper –
magic words: The silent drums of battle
pulse deepest before dawn
or Dragons breathe in poems,
where flowers grow and shadows
creep from dark caves.
And a coffee, as hot as war.
All I really need is coffee
and a few moments to untether
my thoughts, allow them to drift
over the candles on the dining room table,
through the cracks in the ceiling,
and the open window
where they can rise
scratching the aspen’s smooth bark.
Yes, that’s all I need: some coffee and quiet.
I loathe the pester of unexpected visitors.