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Poindexter

Poindexter swivels
his index finger swiftly
as if a windshield wiper
“Look there, and there, and there”
Breathtaking, the vista soaring behind my eyelids

Cobwebs, thick like drapes,
wisps of what was then,
anchored to what is now.
Still pretentious —
as if meaning can be derived by thinking too hard

Hippie beads clink
as if I’m in a record shop
Elton John’s glasses
bopping to Crocodile Rock
I’m home in my flower power bed nestled near mom

Poindexter points
to the ceiling above my head
over the rainbow
lava lamp clumps
resemble my dendrites; or is it my soul’s vista?

4/28/2021

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Victor Buhagiar

Date: 4/29/2021 6:09:00 AM

You had an advisor who will be remembered. A very interesting poem. Hugs my friend.

Kim Rodrigues
Date: 4/29/2021 7:15:00 PM

Thank you! Of course like you, I can’t get death out of my head. It finds its way in. Your spouse, my mom... Hope you are doing well, my friend. ((Hugs))