The Wrinkled Faces Of Some Realities........... Poem by RIC BASTASA

just curious now why you leave
this house in the middle of a heavy rain
upon a news that Typhoon Marilyn shall
now make its landfall,
but i dare not ask why for i have learned
how to be silent instead,
sitting on my central position at the breakfast
table sipping my own kind of coffee
slicing into thin pieces the bacon for
me to partake of its crispiness smoothly
to my teeth and tongue.
we live in a house where questions are not
asked where presumptions are much better
appreciated rather than confront the wrinkled
faces of some realities.
after this, i will have time to smoke my cigar
and since you already left, i will have more time
figuring out the shapes of the smoke that hangs
in the morning air escaping in those spaces
of the misty glass windows.