This was written in response to Irene Zahava, who created a wonderful communal poem–
Here is mine in its entirety. Try your own!
I remember turning 60 at Monument Valley among red rock monoliths, infinitely older than human life.
I remember my left-handed friend with whom I shared a name dying slowly in hospice.
I remember my demented stroked father saying: it’s so unusual that we get on; but he didn’t mean him and me.
I remember watching a Tibetan monk in sneakers begging and a woman in rhinestone trimmed chiffon purdah on Miami Beach.
I remember how I knew my daughter had named the little chocolate lab “Faye” for the fairy folk.
I remember my student comparing his pueblo to King Arthur’s court.
I remember how mad I was when you pointed out my neck is wrinkled.
I remember sitting in box seats for the first time in my life at “Madame Butterfly.”
I remember staying up all night reading the Tarot cards next to my account book when I got a 4% cut in pay.
I remember turning a corner in the autumn wind and not caring about the headlines or my own story.