The 10,000 Things

Young women wearing ballet flats
and giant sun-glasses, saw
young man with brown eyes
reading something about America
written by a famous liberal,
while on the train to Astoria
at the end of the workday.

Outside it was warm,
Sophie said she just couldn't
come into the building this morning,
from such lovely weather, even
though she was early for work,
she just sat there, outside,
unable to move, ended
up ten minutes late.

Yesterday I pulled up
mint plants by the roots,
used a spade, loosened the dirt,
then pulled up the roots, I wore
a hat in the blazing sun.
The teahouse is going to
have outdoor garden seating,
Gwen is clearing the patch of land,
and will lay down small stones and
pots of flowers among
the plastic chairs, the
iron tables, and green umbrellas.

The smell of Bhutanese incense,
mixed with warm breezes from
my open window, ah
the intoxication of warmth
after such cold season.

Peekaboo

So tell me,
should I pursue?
should I hold still?

Tell me,
will something happen?
not happen?

Full of questions,
you see, yes.
Was it my fault?
did I do something wrong?

Will I get another chance?
do I want another chance?

Noises form into
endless veils
hiding my heart.

Feels like iron walls,
but it’s only sound,
only noise,
thinnest of veils.

Yet it feels like iron,
two feet thick,
surrounded by
four feet of concrete,
within which my heart beats,
making no sound at all.