IN ARIZONA DESERT COUNTRY
Pebbles roll underfoot.
The earth has a deep red burn.
My sweat is half-dust, half-liquid.
The sun is setting on Arizona, as elsewhere,
but with uninterrupted shadow
from here to the distant mountains.
And a gleaming gray lizard
pops up suddenly atop a rock,
head darts this way, that,
before disappearing.
That creature knows how to survive
this rough-hewn landscape.
Doesn’t have a car.
Has no need to drive
hundreds of miles of flat road.
Whether stranger from the east
or unwitting insect,
the lizard let’s life come to it.
Then it observes, cogitates,
and reacts accordingly.
My presence is worthy of no more
than a furtive glance.
My journey is a succession
of just such furtive glances.
THE OCEAN DELIVERS
Body washed up on the beach,
blue-skinned, hollow-eyed,
but recognizably human.
Crowd gathers,
in curious horror
at the sight of
wide-opened mouth,
clenched fists,
legs blotchy,
stinking of salt.
On a clump of wet sand,
the rigid silence of a being
so analogous to ourselves –
how absurd and terrifying.
IMAGES
You look long and hard
into the mirror.
You struggle to get beyond
simple reflection.
You’re pondering
how you would feel
about this woman
if you were someone
other than yourself.
You pass her on the sidewalk.
Do you say “hello”?
She’s seated alone
in a coffee shop.
Do you plump down
in the vacant chair at her table?
And what if you’re a man?
Is she someone you’d really
like to get to know better?
And how would she react
when she saw you?
Your mouth twitches awkwardly.
It’s not easy
convincing a stranger to smile.
WHO ARE YOU?
I awaken from a kind of amnesia,
out of fog into who you are,
as if my eyes, my mind, are giving birth to you
and now must find a name out of what I see,
what I remember.
It must be the name I’ve said ten thousand times before,
when crying out for help, or sidetracked by desire,
a name, so familiar to my tongue, it can’t help repeating itself,
over and over and over,
like a thin invisible wire extended across the room,
with my mouth at one end, your ear at the other.
I’m lying in bed, so this really is an awakening.
I’ve been waylaid by dreams with other people in them.
Last night, my subconscious sprouted wings
and soared above the city skyscrapers.
It was back in the classroom where a teacher
threatened me with a long cane
for not doing my homework.
And you’re by the door,
a woman in ordinary circumstances,
on the way to the bathroom,
or downstairs to make coffee.
Wait. I believe I have it. You’re Gale.
It was easier than I thought.
No psychoanalysis.
No hypnotist.
No sessions with a therapist.
No need to relearn the language.
I can fly in short bursts.
I really did do my homework.
THE GUY
left the army
back in ’97,
dishonorable discharge
sorry sarge
about the two black eyes
and that it didn’t
make a man of me –
ask around –
I was a man
even before I ever went in –
it was in no place USA
where I shot out
the stained-glass window of the church –
I was aiming at the priest
and I got kicked right outta the barroom
and landed on a police report
which is why I punched out
the first guy I ran into
when they let me go next morning
with a caution –
and I racked up debt
wrote bad checks
or
as I said to the cop
it ain’t like I’m running with the wrong crowd –
I am the wrong crowd –
so come on over
you can’t miss me
I’m the guy
with the tattooed chest
the earring
and the beer in my hand –
THE GUY
for as long
as I’m addicted to something
then I’ve got unfinished business –
make that Qanon
make that coke
make that uppers and downers
and guns
and violence –
and, of course,
the little girl
who calls me
“daddy”
Read more of John Grey's work here on Bold Monkey: https://georgedanderson.blogspot.com/2023/04/featuring-john-grey.html
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