Where Will We Be? (One For Ms. Becky)
Where will I be?
When your plane bursts the clouds
On its way back home
To your boys’ embrace and Asia
Dissolves
Like a forgotten stopover
On another ticket to Destination
Life.
So where will I be?
When the softness of your hair
Cascades gently into your
Tall form to
Tilt its magic and I suddenly remember it’s
Just a memory in the
Faded album of my
Never taken
Photographs.
Think too,
Where will I be?
When dearest Julie asks,
“Is Ms. Becky coming back?”
As the dots on her page
Won’t connect and I can’t find
You,
Freud, or even
Carl Jung between
Them or
Me
For that matter.
Where also will I really be?
As Friday light fades to black
And thoughts of you,
Sabbath and all,
Pour across me like
Overflowing wine
Not to mention the
Jewish motherhood article you
Lovingly slid in the
Inbox of my soul
Only later to be taken out when
Fatherhood gives me the
Long awaited
Call.
Where too will I be?
When a simple moment on a
Simple day
Meeting you in the hallway
Turns
To a not so simple but hugely important
Discussion on writing and other tidbits like
“God”
That we somehow managed to sprinkle
Surreptitiously on our path to
Everywhere.
Where oh where will I really be?
When I can’t find the words in
Tattered poems that
Float
Flotsam and jetsam
In the notepad of my mind
When all I can think of is
You
Outside some brownstone in Brooklyn
Same lean, same smile
Arms probably crossed
Hail a taxi to
Another way station of
Tomorrows.
Which leads me to what I really think which is,
Where will
We be?
Ms. Becky Ann Schecter
When
Ten years on,
Another continent, another school,
Years
Oozing the truth, a Lakota elder,
Face
Grooved to perfection reminds us in
Sioux,
“There is no word for goodbye.”
Jeff Troyer
December 2007
Copyright © Jeff Troyer | Year Posted 2010
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