Of Sparrows, Duality, and Such
On the back of a piece of wrapping paper,
Provided by the bookstore,
With desert roses and musical scores,
A winter image has asked to be recorded.
A cluster of sparrows, six or
Eight males and females,
Move in their hurried way
Over the shopping carts at Wal-Mart.
They are yakking and pecking
Yakking and pecking so much
They don’t see me or anyone else
In their forageworld.
I’m here to get trouble eggs, an 18-pack,
For the waffles which, once home,
Will stick to the maker anyway
Due to insufficient oil.
My daughter and her husband are
Having difficulty and me being in the house,
Despite eating and drinking ever so deliberately,
So I pack my bags like a bad aunt
And head for this place,
To read their dharma books and prepare for my lit class,
After putting air in the tires.
In the car I listen to a radio program
That discusses non-duality and
How to get out of your own way,
In so many words.
This, of course, makes me think of you,
Which everything, conveniently, does these days,
And, further, because you’re in North Carolina,
Not here in Colorado, our duality.
How this should tie up is with something profound
That connects the birds in the beginning and my daughter
To the oblique reference to waffles, poetry and duality,
And that explains the relationship between an older man and a younger woman,
But I’m avoiding it, at least for now.