Thursday, June 11, 2015

Blanketed Potato

Sometimes I’ll be watching
A movie or a commercial’s gauzy
Scene, with a daughter in tears
Re-connecting with her long lost
Father who was captured or dis-
Oriented or developed amnesia
And couldn’t find his way back
To his loved ones, to his world
The one he knew like the green
Eyes of his daughter now happier
Than ever as if looking at a god—
Incomprehensibly, as if there was
No telephone package involved,
No deal to make, I’ll start weeping
Bawling my eyes out like a little
Boy who lost his truck and then
Even harder in shame at coming
Under the spell of today’s masters
Cooking up my eye, ear, heart as
I sit there, a blanketed potato.

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