Humans, man.

I was riding my bike home from the climbing Gym yesterday and some guy in a beat up old ford truck yelled some obscenity at me. Not for any reason, I guess just to do it. 
 
At first I started laughing, then I got to thinking. Why? What compels a person to do that? I started thinking in terms of some lines by WH Auden, “You shall love your crooked neighbor/With your crooked heart.” Whether or not he is right in thinking me what he yelled at me, or I am right in thinking he is probably a generally nice man who just needed to express some anger in an unhealthy way; the same way I might eat too much, drink too much, or exercise too much to make up for too much eating or drinking. Yet, we both seem to be people of the same species, the same genetic soup, dare I say same God breath.  He’s weird. I’m weird. Humans are weird.
 
 
Not just some fuck
 
A good ol’ fuck,
About as dumb as myself,
No dumber, no better;
Out of his pickups window 
Passing by my sidewalk shouted,
“You dumb fuck!”
And what? I thought,
Made me a dumb fuck,
But him not.
What kind of anger taught
A man to call another dumb
And insist I think him
A blind fuck 
For not seeing me,
With my two feet, walking,
And he, with his,
working the pedals
Of his fucking pickup truck?
 
 
If the Giant comes down to Jack
 

Ugly shouts of hallway light

Shuffle into the bristles,
Tangoing with the vodka 
Father, whose feet come
Assaulting like dizzy cigarettes 
on a virgin nose
Into the living room
Where his ears are pinned
To the devouring rug
To keep the light
And darkness out.
 
 
Turn an eye
 
Can you imagine
The broken eye
Of a blind kaldiescope
And still see color.
 
 
Godly Play
 
How a four year old shelters her body
In something as flimsy
As construction paper
And makes her self to be,
By being in it,
Such an easy creation
For my own imagination;
To see what a bright purple
Parachute or dress
Or robe flows so fluidly
Beyond the usual way
Paper invites me to create.
 
 
I welcome your thoughts!
 
 
 
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