Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Day 330
11:53 pm
–
the multiplicity of her skin
–
Wakako has layers of skin, deep as
the rings of her maple out front,
barely hears the noise anymore,
rarely noticed by the cars cruising
past the lady while she waters
her lawn in the late afternoon
well after the heat and long
before her evening chills
There is nothing fun
about getting old,
she tells me
I watch old women pass in front of
my car every day as I pull up to
one four-way stop, and then
another, barely rolling to pause
before my schedule honks
at me
It is nice to ponder the beauty of
who they are now, those thick
fingers and soft strut, a slow
swagger they have earned
to protect their pride in
moving with such caution
But Wakako would rather have
me see the earlier generations
of her face,
The silly girl who lodged her first
fears at the inside of her brows,
too afraid to admit she really
was a writer, or the middle aged
woman who understood the
rhythm of her fingers at the
typewriter much better than the
clumsy hands of her daughter
at the edge of a coloring book
I would like to say the years have
been kind to her face, that the
lines only point to her smile,
that the warmth in her embrace
is more important than the
boniness we note in her hold
She would likely remind me I am
naive, because like she just
said, There is nothing fun
about getting old.
–
–
tkk
(title from G)
–
–
