Cupid

Sometimes falling in love really does feel like losing control. I started thinking about the sharp sensation of fear as Cupid's arrows...

Cupid

What forces awaken

Who is impaled?

am I this shadow

or have shadows overtake me?

I’ve shed mask upon mask

and yet still carry this sword

at ready,

any warrior coming near

feels its fiery breath.

Instead of gentleness, closeness

awakens terror and rage

creating

a circle of flame

that surrounds me.

I start to reach out,

beyond that circle.

What do you see?

The story beneath the story...

or can you find that higher thread

only seeming delicate

that carries us all?

Did we disappear

for a moment

in indigo sky

as day, balanced with night

disappears the horizon

and earth blends with sky?

Everything, anything

all possibility.

East Oakland 2013

I walk through filth every day on my way to the BART entrance.  I always park my car close to the bridge where the homeless encampment shows signs of active use. Police look the other way for the people who stow their blankets and cooktins up close to the underside of the bridge that leads to the highway onramp.

Now and then I give a few dollars to panhandlers who have become expert at piteous expressions and who ask for “Just enough to buy a ticket,” or “enough to call my momma.” I think that I’m buying safety for my ride, my copper-colored six speed that always hums happily on the lonely evenings when I take it over 90 on the Five.

Something seems slightly amiss as I walk toward the stairs that lead to the underpass. I take note that a police car is parked at an odd angle. I can see hyper-alertness on the faces of passers-by. As I walk toward the ticketing gates, I notice a man with large features whose saddened  face is bent toward large plastic bag that sits on top of one of a ticket vending kiosk. Next to his stooped form, a policeman towers over him.The shorter man’s extreme sadness causes me to catch my breath. I can feel his shame.  As I pass through the entry gates, I glance back and realize the source of his sadness when I realize the man’s hands are cuffed behind his back.

I think about this man. I don’t doubt he is a criminal.  I don’t know him, I don’t know what actions led to his arrest. I can imagine many things. Every night for weeks I’ve been hearing gunshots, more on Fridays and Saturdays, even more on weekends that align with paydays. When the shooting starts, I count the bullets. I wonder why it is always five. B-B-B-B-B! Then, sometimes, a single final B!

Someone is shot and dies on my street, a half a block from my house. Another is shot in the arm and falls to the ground bleeding, in my driveway. iit takes forty minutes for police to arrive.  My neighbor said, there was just one other murder here,  20 years ago, a knife murder. Guy bled to death fast. The police questioned and questioned me. It’s a real pain to have to talk to the police about stuff like that.

The man who died on the street across from my house was named Tezz. Another man was murdered with his infant child a few weeks later, just a few blocks away. I realize I now live in a war zone.

Remembering Amalia

My first babysitter was Amalia, and I was two when we moved away. I don't know her last name, but I knew she loved me. :-)

Remembering Amalia

I remember dappled sunshine through clear glass windows,
windows that with winter 
changed
into white and grey patterns.
“Frost,” she said.
I could still see the outside.
The backyard tree stuck its now-empty branches
into a gray sky that softly sifted 
white flakes down to us, 
all different
making a white carpet
outside.

I remember the back door in winter
opening.
A gust of cold wind,
and I wanted to explore.
“No!” 
I wanted to go into the outside,
but hands held me back.
“It’s cold!”
I thought the cold, and the wind
were spicy.

She found my brother’s snow suit,
“Here, it’s too big, but you’ll grow.”
Gentle hands zipping, snapping
Tying a bow under my chin.
I remember being warm inside the snowsuit,
outside, fluffy clouds of snow
Flakes melting on my face
more and more flakes falling
each one unique.

“You’re an explorer.”
I looked up, and she smiled.

I am...

I am most intelligent and resourceful,

I have performed miracles and healed people.

I am completely wrong, I am confused.

I am a high-born princess,

and I am daughter of a reviled race.

I am an heiress, I am a slave.

I have overcome great adversity

and the world is better for my journey through this life.

I learned too slowly,

and my mistakes caused pain and sadness to millions.

I married a prince, I married a mass murderer.

I am without blemish, I am forever stained.

I have consorted with criminals,

I have adhered to the truth, I have lied.

I have always played fair, I have cheated.

I remained faithful, I have sinned.

I am unique.

I am not different

from any other human.