oh very young what will
you leave us this time?*
chances choices knots configuration karma
new generation’s binding and unraveling
performed along the hazardous path
of time – you have promises
and curses in your backpack
what to take out, what
to leave along the way
boy pointing at the moon
mentor, that first frantic project –
I was clueless until he took
a halfhour from his busy
schedule to explain Warnier/Orrs
to me, thereafter on my own
but psychologically dependent -
help me answer man with clubbed
forefinger, stony mossgreen eyes
that looked the other way – my
tears, panicked when he left
mr. elegant taught high school
algebra and stood out with
his tailored suits slim build
wry humor a metrosexual before
such thing existed – if you
were trying to entertain yourself
in class wondering about the
private lives of teachers and
what made them tick he
would stump you every time
quirky girl strange pageboy
didn’t seem to care rode
the same bus I did carrying
all her textbooks every day
like bulky baby in her arms
busdriver teasing dared her
to drop the whole stack
in the street while he
stopped traffic – she did it
and with flair I laughed
nipped in the bud just
when it was starting to
bloom, our friendship grew like
lotus in the mud energetic
beauty in our steps sharing
stories petals poetry home yoga
some part of each of us
still mired in the muck
that is the past or stress
uprooted elsewhere now
pretty obvious that when he
said he wanted to practice
his insurance pitch for his
new sales job on me that
he didn’t want to practice
even though he swore he
did, but no, he was taking
advantage of our pre-layoff
co-worker relationship to try
to sell me some insurance
from Our True Story:
Celebration “in recognition of 125 years of survival:
a prayer to our Creator that some day when we,
the Confederated Tribes of the Colville Reservation
will hold all of our lands in trust for our people,
we will truly be able to claim this beautiful nation
as ours once again.”