by Les Bernstein
someplace in the here
where we live
an autumn leaf of a woman
tripoded with an aluminum cane
asks if I live nearby
I live mostly in my head
adjusting memories
inventing futures
conversing with ghosts
little use for bright certainty
orbited by numberless impossibilities
she asks where to buy
a battery for her watch
her time has stopped
and is running out
I say pharmacy
for chemistry and chance
we smile
leaning on her cane
she inches her stooped way
I wish I had an answer
for all the outwardly ordinary details
that make up a life
but my sword
is still stuck in the stone
~
