Poetry

In the summer of 1967, I was accepted by the National Science Foundation to attend a summer science program for high school students. But, things were changing. It was a great summer. I learned a lot, and started noticing more about the world than newspapers, National Geographic magazines and encyclopedias had shown me. Science was my passion, but there were things to come I had never imagined.

When the oil is just right

in a cast-iron fry pan

a NM corn tortilla

starts to dance

bubbling up

here and there

like a pot of chile.

Flip it over then

for the magic

the center rises

like a yellow balloon

filling with hot air

and skates on the oil.

It’s done!

Magic.

Slide it on a plate

cover with

sauteed onion

green chile

grated cheese.

Cook a second tortilla

add to the stack

cover with

sautéed onion

green chile

and grated cheese.

Almost done.

Cook a third tortilla

add it to the stack

fry a fresh local egg

over reeeeaaal easy

slide it onto that

three-tiered wonder

drizzle red chile

all over this feast

pop the yolk

as orange happiness

oozes over all

like sunshine

Eat the magic.

Lao Tzu, legendary Chinese philosopher and founder of Taoism wrote:

Be content with what you have

rejoice in the way things are.

When you realize there is nothing lacking

the whole world belongs to you.

I AM NOT CONTENT

with what I have.

I do not rejoice

in the way things are.

Never!

Not until I am buried

with all my stuff

my swords and shields

and my slings and arrows

of outrageous fortune.

Bury me

with my prejudices and ego

with my stress and anger

with my desires for revenge

with my unkind words

with my thoughtlessness.

Bury me

with my sloth and gluttony.

Bury me

with my pride.

Bury me

with my lust for who

and what I cannot have

and my lust instead

for possessions

to surround me.

Bury me

most of all

with my sadness and loneliness.

But

don't forget to come back

and dig me up.

Leave all that other stuff

cover it with reinforced concrete.

Put up a sign that says:

Danger!

Radioactive!

Highly Poisonous!

Do Not Dig Here!

Do Not Disturb!

Then

I will belong to the world.

WHAT IS IN THE BOX?

Is it the answer to my hopes and dreams?

is it love? Is it bacon?

Is it a Braunschweiger sandwich

with mayo

in my lunchbag

made lovingly by Mom?

Is it an extra-sharp cheese omelet

with fresh roasted green chile

made by me for myself?

Is it black bean and hot Italian sausage chile

made with love for someone else?

Is it a cup of Yunnan black tea

- Stygian darkness cut with honey -

made for pleasure?

Is it being with someone you love

as you watch the sunset

and the sunlight is refracted

colors bouncing from cloud to cloud?

Is it poetry you write about someone you love?

Is it watermelon to share with your lover?

Is it a dream of love?

Is it a remembrance of love?

Is it knowing that there is always love

as long as you love someone

even if they no longer care about you?

The answer is love - it is always love.

The answer to all of life's questions

comes down to love

even if

all you want to know

is

what's in the box?

MORE THAN A BOX

At first

I'm just a box

waiting

outside your door.

Bring me in

open me

inspect me.

If I'm cracked

but useable

keep me

or trash me.

No refunds.

But

if you keep me

I may surprise you.

My imperfections

give me strength

and guidance.

I do not repeat errors

I learn from them.

Touch me

caress me

I respond in kind.

I can offer: love

without expectations

without strings

without judgment.

But

justopentheboxandtakealook

damn it!

I hadn't wanted any other pets after I left home. On one visit home, I learned that the family dog, Lady, one I had picked out and named, who I fed every day, and always came running when I called, from wherever she was, had sickened and been put to sleep. No one had ever told me she was sick, or that she was dead. So many years later, with two step-children in the house, I was speaking with my mom about traveling to my dad's funeral. She asked me if I wanted one of his cats. I turned to my first wife's daughter and asked if she wanted a cat. She said she did, so I told my mom I would take one. When I arrived at the farmhouse my mom shared with her new husband, she put me in a room where both of my dad's cats had been kept since his death. 

My dad, like my mom, had remarried after their divorce, but I suppose his new wife didn't want the cats. 

After the wake for my dad, my mom offered to drive me to the airport with the cat I'd picked out. She loaded the cat, in a pet carrier, in her car, along with cat food, and bowls for food and water. On the way, I noticed she had put both cats in the carrier. My brother Pat was with us, and I asked him if he'd take one of the cats, but he said he'd already turned that idea down since he was highly allergic to cats. So I took both cats home, and after my first divorce, I took them with me to a small mortgaged house. 

About four years later I married again. One cat had died, but the other was fine. After the male was shot with a pellet gun, I thought I was done with cats. But, although my new wife, it turned out, didn't like animals, a stray female dropped a litter in our yard, and I managed to keep one: a little orange-and-white-striped one, just like my dad's male cat. One year later, a very young black & white female dropped a litter in our yard, but my wife insisted I get rid of them. However, I kept the mother - she looked so much like my dad's female cat, and the two of them were inseparable.

After my wife roughly pushed the female off of her lap - the male was on my lap - they never bonded with my new wife. They avoided her. That should have given me pause. She said they gave her the evil eye.

Fourteen years later, I found myself divorced again, with two cats to keep me company. They had been my constant companions. However, I found a girlfriend who spent every weekend with me, and we sure had a good time. But the cats always hid when she was there. They didn't like strangers. The woman herself had ghosted me suddenly a year and a half later after we'd met. Not long after that, my male cat disappeared, one day before suppertime, very unlike him, and I never found him, even though I put up posters, and he was chipped. I wandered through several neighborhoods for six months looking for that sweet cat. In my loneliness, I'd never felt such a close bond with any animal before.

Then, early this year, the female cat died, about six years after I'd acquired a companion for the sad thing. I sure missed her. Not long after, about six months later, that cat died as well. I'd hadn't bonded very closely with that one, but the house is so empty now. 

This episode is also available as a blog post: https://terrystuff.wordpress.com/2020/10/27/memories-of-a-blue-bayou/

*The word Chesepiooc is an Algonquian word referring to a village ‘at a big river’. The  Chesapeake people, or the Chesepian, were a Native American tribe who inhabited the area now known as South Hampton Roads in Virginia. The  Chesepian were wiped out by the Powhatan Confederacy, sometime before the arrival of the English at Jamestown in 1607. The Chesepian were  eliminated because Powhatan’s priests had warned that “from the  Chesapeake Bay a nation should arise, which should dissolve and give end  to his empire.”

Desayuno, or breakfast in New Mexico, USA.

This episode is also available as a blog post: https://terrystuff.wordpress.com/2021/05/05/cusp-of-a-morning/