The Last Goodbye, Now Pending, a poem

wildnessDear Zorch:

It’s 1:19 a.m.
on the San Francisco peninsula,
a long time and a long way from home …
But I remember you, suffocating in suits
and me, bursting with poem at an automat
in the fur district

…………………………..just 17-years-old

The most unhappening girl
in the most happening town.

On the day I married your mad family, Father Joe
had his Beefeater Gin in a water-glass at our Mass.

…………………………it didn’t take long

We both went crazy for our sanity.

We never did walk The Village streets for
a sip of sweet demitasse in old cafés,
places where Khalil Gibran might have sat.
So okay, that was my dream. Yours was
Wall Street and manicured lawns in Westbury.

There are other people living in our place now.
The schools we attended have closed.
Holy Mother the Church faded into the Hudson
for lack of the people’s imprimatur.
A surplus of plaster Jesus statues grew.
We couldn’t hear our own truth between
the clicking rosaries and the poison
of our parents’ insecurities …
We were too damn young.

Which reminds me: News is you’ve been

…………………………Reborn

I suppose you don’t read Latin anymore.

I wonder …
Do you find that old folks live on the margins?
We speak and no one hears, so we catch
the sun in the dregs of our morning coffee

…………………………and pray for the children

We pray and we ponder the fifty years that have passed
since we were us. Fifty years and countless goodbyes ~

…………………………the last goodbye, now pending.

Yours,
Bright Eyes

© 2016, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved