Canon in D

Walk ‘til you run
And don’t look back

For here I am

A herd of Spaniards, teenagers
beset by small backpacks trail uphill
past my terrace. All mostly happy,
arms loose and swinging
(sad men swing no arms),
off to somewhere else and each
uncertain of their return,
for death may follow.

They do not stop, nor look back,
passing into shot and out,
as though a single frame,
in this film of my life,
and the sound men, dolly grips,
the unmade clapperboard girls,
busy themselves amongst the filtering script
to present me with all that is yet to come.

Red men on the traffic poles
stand alight, barring other walkers
from making progress.
Small European trucks wait also,
motionless and growling,
until the Second Director calls unheard
for action and I feel the need
to suddenly stand up.

The green man flashes,
encouraging me to hurry
and the morning begins at last.

Puerto de la Cruz
June 19th, 2010


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