four years

I sit munching.
this is a vegetarian stew
hand-made
coated in a light snow dusting
of parmesan cheese
just like my red car revels
under its new blanket of white.

I sit listening.
she wants so much
and yet here I am, not in St Johns tonight
I wish I was.
I was there, once,
in a long ago time
probably when the vikings
hauled me onto shore and said,
lead us!
you brought us this far!
and I turned and ran for the ocean.
just as I?m turning
from the future.

I have the money.
it?s no obstacle, you see.
I have the moral heart needed
when an audience pains for one to be broken.
I have the whit and the charm
and the unintelligible rambles
and the desire to hear her think.
I have the eyes that can follow words
and the hands that can write them.

I have four years of poems.
I have four years of conscious thoughts.
I have four years of crying.
I have four years of laughter.
I have four years of magic.
I have four years in three books.
I have four years in new hair and nails.
I have four years in metaphysical questioning.
I have four years in internet history.
I have four years in biochemical discoveries.
I have four years of desire.
I have four years of fear.
I have four years of hatred.
I have four years of passion.
I have four years of repetition.
I have four years of showers.
I have four years of silence.
I have four years of walking.
I have four years of dreams.
I have four years of lust.
I have four years of experiences.
I have four years of life.