Day #308: Poem Four

#308

White Fish and Reincarnation

My dad hooked up my dryer

for me today,

fixed a hinge on a door.

I paid him in white fish 

and French fries

at a senior discount

and talked with him

of his commune days

and reincarnation.

He said his biggest

qualm is that people 

always feel 

that they had to have been 

someone important,

like Cleopatra 

or Robert E. Lee.

I've come to realize

he's always been 

my best friend,

and I don't care who I am 

in my next life

as long as I still get to be

his daughter.

         c Grace

there is a line of muscle that runs

from below my shoulder blade to my spine

When it is rubbed continuously

i go from pain to still to comfort

I know no other place where that is true

It takes me to a place of contentment

quiet, calm, loving, warm contentment.

It's a lot like listening to Baroque music

or eating lobster even without butter

It's like reading that poem that settles right in

like floating in the pond in July.

When you walk out into the open field

that's filled with Tansy and Indian Paintbrush.

the touch of towel after a hot shower.