Gift (The) Poem by Tom Courtney

Stripped down, played out,
run around, left over and set aside
She said to love another
as if anyone could just pull a trigger

Standing in a bus stop reading
advertisements – graffiti sensing
the cold, hard seat
immersed in the swirling gasses
this is a long road
and getting longer
Can the balance ever be reset?

Or staring at the many autoed people
alert, dancing in pirouettes amidst the lanes and lights
reading the signals ahead and to the sides
glancing expressions – attitudes wrapped in bundles
of nerves traversing optical fibered pathways
to end-up like Christmas eggs – shiney-sparkley
and never opened?

Traffic moves in pulses of coagulated blood – i trip
over aluminum siding at the drug store door
cursing the inanimate
spilling my syrupy drink into wide circles
of candy asphalt

Only the freshly-alone see the patches
put upon a broken world – the cracks
in the veneer – the long, long distances
and the ever-so-short moments

Glimmering lights flicker in musty air
the choked and stifling word – debatable:
is the space of our lives so often broached
in confusion?
Whose cart is this?
I’m sorry but where do you find those delectable porcelains?
You’re from oh? ! Ohio? No?
Your dog?
Your child?

All the machinery goes on - you think
and bite your tongue: you have your hobbies …
Fall into the balance – now – again – once – and forever
Opportunity only knocks and when
you recognize it, seize it – above all the distractions

Sit back and learn yourself
Begin with introductions young-some one
She gave you so this gift