I Think You Know What I Mean Poem by RIC BASTASA

a young man sits inside his orange car
puts his legs above board
wipes his face, sweaty, cleans his nose
idly, looks around
in silence

he gazes upon a vacant road
there is no car
no people,

from where i am seated
i observe him
he is contented upon his idleness
i can't read his mind of course
whether there is sorrow
or bliss

beside his car is a wall
enclosing a garden of cassava and papaya trees
there is a guava tree
laden with its fruits

beyond us is the calm sea
plain blue as coconut trees tower
like guards

or lighthouses on an early morning
contemplation perhaps
about what to do next after this gentleness
this calm

will it be chaos? will it be too much noise?
can pandemonium be not far behind

the white chickens arrive and pecks upon some grains of rice
upon a bowl of clay lies the water that can satisfy thirst

you know what i mean
life is a variation of everything
full of color, wanting sound, longing for scents
expecting some happenings.