the adorables known as my parents celebrate 67 years of marriage today!
she who identified with the idea of ‘daughter’ can no longer find herself in the idea
but nevertheless, daughter-ing happens
later, an image of the old ‘me’ arises, just like in a dream:
a vacuum cleaner, sucking greedily, insatiably
sucking experiences and teachings and philosophies and beliefs into a bursting bag
me, me, mine!
the bag began emptying on a summer’s evening in Alicante,
(full moon rising, magenta bougainvillea against palest indigo sky
the Lover known as Death silently keeping company)
and once underway, reversal was impossible
with the departure of the last dust-balls,
the bag and the vacuum cleaner disappeared
Lover never left