The Magic Touch of Strangers

 

The touch

of strangers

in a crowded bus

my arm

against another’s

trading warmth

and energy.

 

I feel good, the

shared aliveness

somehow magic

thinking, silently,

that I am

one of us

at least for now.

These words in these blocks

and these buttons

these spots on the screen

are seen by

a boy in Puerto Rico then

a girl in Mississippi then

a man in Samoa then

a woman in China.

I can hear them applaud for me.

in my heart of hearts.

I can feel your heart beating

in my fingertips.

I can hear the wind blowing on the beach in Samoa

through the trees in Mississippi,

and I can see your eyes reading these words

from so far away.

We need rain here.

Send prayers for rain

for the crops

for peace

for love.

Hello

Puerto Rico!

 

Songs and Lyrics with Play Buttons

~~

The mermaids sang
to lusty Zorba
I am sure, but not to
Prufrock, so he said,
he of tiny
dibs and dabs
of life, drizzled on
his plate with tiny
spoons.

Did he regret
what he had missed?
I think he did.
I see him sadly
staring at the waves,
hoping for
a second chance,
but fearing,
ever fearing,
nearly everything.

I see so
many Prufrocks
on the news,
they’re so afraid
of getting hurt
and so afraid
of life without
insurance.

But those who
guzzle life
from gallon jugs,
I think the
mermaids love them.

Porch swing life in
some other place
moon humming happy
bugs playing fiddles
pies cooling
by the window

Down the road awhile
in smokey midnight bars
torchy songs low and thick
red lipstick eyes closed
songs for someone gone
a long long time

Outside slow motion
saxaphone
wakes the blood
sends foggy feet
to the magic house
yellow glow windows
Strong souls there,
souls so big
they never die.

Dreamstreet Man
drew that door
then walked through it.
You don’t know
he said
who’s the dream
and who’s the dreamer.

The air’s the same
The air’s the same.
It’s the same good
honeysuckle air.

What I’m looking for

 

They always say

they hope I find

what I am

looking for,

and then I laugh

and walk away.

 

I look for nothing

everything

 

I look for those

who soar and wander,

through the hidden doors

and down the paths

that don’t exist

 

I look

for weeds on

pampered lawns

 

I look

for dandelions

unhindered,

even loved.

 

Dandelion de la Rue  May 29, 2012

What is your dream?
You have to follow that.
That is what is important,
it’s not education,
it’s not job,
it’s the dream.
It’s something to fall asleep with
every night of your life.
A life which matters
only through love and dreams.
My dream is this.
Today I did this toward my dream.
Now I can sleep
a poet’s sleep