Date: May 27, 2011
Adventure #51
Inspired by motherly encouragement/prodding, I am back to post again on my blog. Just two days ago, I hosted a reading at my favorite wine bar in Budapest with five other very talented poets. A large group of my friends attended, for which I was extremely grateful. Since I am betting that was my final poetry reading in Budapest before my imminent departure, I composed a poem inspired by some of my Hungarian experiences and my current attitude toward moving. Without further preamble, here it is:
Rapt in the Return
We sat side by side on a slated bench like one-third of the last supper,
drinking light lagers out of plastic grails
staring a sinister church protected by chicken wire,
caging in gargoyles with the lunette apostles,
a purgatory menagerie.
As its bells pealed at midnight,
we toasted each other in four languages,
the homeless man donning an Armani hat laughed as I dipped my finger in my drink and gave my dog a lick,
then his eyes moved back to a horizontal glare as we occupied his bed for just a little longer.
These are the moments I inhale,
hand just slapped the chess timer
must move to the next travail.
My mind is most rapt with a return ticket,
time-stamped eyes bring clarity, rarity of vision
where measured moments
bloom like highlighter rows of rapeseed.
I can’t forget what I didn’t do,
fill the cup of bent-over beggars,
whose outstretched hands quiver like a cellist sustaining a chord,
I never danced ‘til dawn in velvet cellars,
but there is still time,
and I didn’t finish the vinegar wine
served by flirtatious proprietors in musky cellars.
I handed it off like a baton to friends who dumped it out behind the cask,
volunteers passing water buckets to douse flames of fire water.
These are the moments I let pass,
hand just slapped the chess timer
time for new memories to amass.
My mind is most rapt with a return ticket,
time-stamped eyes bring clarity, rarity of vision
where measured moments
bloom like highlighter rows of rapeseed.
I have lacked bold strokes to learn the language.
As long as my shy smile suckled its mother tongue,
my stranger smile roused suspicion.
Always wanted to understand when scorn rolled from strangers’ crackled acorn eyes to bread-knife tongues,
so I could hear choice words
and chose my rebuttal carefully.
Instead, I continue with popgun phrasing of pleasantries like thank you beautifully or lovely weather today.
my default of ignorance has been to feign bliss.
These are words I must leave behind,
hand just slapped the chess timer
remaining time too strictly defined.
My mind stays rapt with the return ticket,
time-stamped eyes bring clarity, rarity of vision
I am enamored in the now.
