Meditation #16

1.
Under the sign that says
"Personalized Hairdressing,"
the leafblower guy’s got a cigarette
hanging from his mouth
and his ear protectors
perched on his head,

and he looks like
a barfly Princess Leia
swinging his black cannon
back and forth,
wiping the winter trash
out into the gutter.

When he cuts the motor,
I can hear that he’s singing
"Seasons Of Love"
around the butt end of his smoke.

He stops as soon as he knows I can hear.

2.
Sister Rosa
lived here for eighty years
and volunteered for forty,
held the hands
of the dying when
their families couldn’t take it
anymore.

With her black hairnet
and black orthopedic shoes,
clumping along in the market,
smiling at our children, she had been
the trademark of small town care
around here,

until the day she passed and,
when asked at the penultimate moment
why she’d been so willing
to do what she’d done, to do
what was being done for her
right now by so many who had asked
to be there at her side,

she said:

"One day, far too late,
I discovered that I just liked
to watch people die."

3.
Just when you think
you know someone,
a rumor hits the wind
and you end up imagining
tornadoes sleeping
in the next room, ready to blow
your windows in on top of you.

Tough.

Suck it up like a soda pop
shared in a ’50s movie.
All those kids knew they were acting.
You don’t have to pretend anymore
that you didn’t know that.