Do you remember when
the asphalt veins of LA
were newly paved?
The city’s lifeblood
first flowing through them.
I remember falling in love with a girl
that let me put the tip of my tongue
against her eye.
She taught me that physical contact
did not mean love.
I had a dream where I cried to my mother,
I told her of all the pain that I felt inside.
I told her that with my grandmother dead
I felt lost.
My dream mother responded,
not by holding me tight
or telling me it would all be okay,
but by telling me her computer was acting funny.
My job is to not cause suffering,
to try and ease the suffering that I see.
I often fail at doing my job
but take solace in knowing that
I am not alone in that.
I remember the first time I almost died,
riding my bike into traffic,
heart racing and pedals moving
as fast as my little nine year old legs could move them.
I heard tires lock up behind me
and people yelling,
my bike made its way to my open garage
where I quickly shut the rolling door
and hid in a dark corner
while my heart tested the limits of speed.
Do you remember what it felt like to be held
after you emerged from the womb?
Blinded by light never before seen,
deafened by sounds never before heard,
touched by skin and cloth and plastic,
all the things we never knew the world was made of.
I wonder if the settlers of new worlds ever feel
that they are wasting their time and efforts,
that all they will do is repeat the failures of the past.
If the settlers of this world
thought that there really was hope to be found.
We are creatures of misery and pain,
history fails to teach us progress.
We only learn how to destroy life in new ways.
The life blood of Los Angeles will kill,
all of us will drown in the progress of another.
I remember learning that lesson,
when love first cried
and people fit in cardboard boxes,
all the lands have been discovered
and hearts never beat quite as fast as they do
before we die.
Asphalt Veins and Human Ashes
