why to live with the old

why to live with the old

i.
i listened to his stories he
spoke slowly i steeled
not to swim
in the lake

i listened to his stories
strained to nod at
the right time
there was a smile in his eyes

the lake waited

his were not the real stories
the women told me he
did not speak of tragedy
instead his boyhood was

still with him he
smiled with his eyes
my grandfather told me
stories

ii.

face or figure her mother
played to her the piano
she chose figure
gaunt

strong like a tree swayed
only enough to announce
your mistake
she did not fail

to stand with others in
war or peace she
told us over rum
he was not the one

so she left for home
a son born her
mother stood by
in my grandmother’s town

iii.

And as old now I see
the world fool with me
my country no longer
affords itself

wisdom is preached of
european bleached history
patchouli so what to me

i see the balance owing
i see my time become
worthless as money and
the faces of credited youth

whom i want to help
this life of a poem i cry
is all i want and for
this day to never die