Here's another Five-Minute Poem, written for my friend, Jess H. I met Jess about 15 years ago. We were fast friends for several months. Then we had a falling out of sorts, a falling out that neither of us really remembers. Details are foggy and undetailed. No matter. We've recently reconnected. She's a single mom living in Memphis, and she sent me some Memphis coffee beans. I sent her this poem.
The South (ern California girl) Remembers
You are not a memory
but the realization
of a lapse some century
in the making, a bottle-
red explosion,
like a Chinese finger
trap, my song-filled trial
& error come back to haunt.
Some field makes a BBQ pit
you standing next & over
a page behind the stand-still.
Your child is crawling inside
the television not to escape
but to find a place to sit.
The world sings a fine motion
without words, smoke rings
making haloes around
the people over there, everyday
messengers who dress like us.
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