Vowel sounds (a poem)

After skipping all of the night’s festivities, my thoughts wandered back a few summers or thirty…

These aren’t the hot August nights of long ago
back when the pendulum veered
from one side to the other
turning the course of summer on a dime
each time upending
life as we knew it

Nights of jazz and beer and cigarettes
Chinese restaurants in Meguro
and strolls through the park
were a diversion I dove into
aware of the futility
but not caring

In the depths of the aftermath
there is no such thing as going lower

Vowels are all that matter

The weekend at the cabin
briefly unleashed my inner beast
I kissed you there—
and you let me—
but what did I know?
(I still can’t believe that was me)

But sadness was not far behind
when the aftermath deepens, you adjust

and learn to live without vowels

(15 August 2019)



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