A Part

A Part



An African man
In a U.S. Army coat
Pulls on his cheap cigar
In the trees
In a park
His back to a cemetery wall
Made mostly of mortar
Not so much of stones
In the tepid night
In Tel Aviv

Skyscrapers just to the east, but
So close to the beach
I can feel the sea
Pushing and pulling
The Earth

And he speaks to me
In Arabic or French
Something weary but pleased
Baritone
And romantic

Having just received
The most sincere efforts
Of the insides
Of my mouth.

He looks into the far sky
Perhaps high
Idealistic
An oft-defeated fighter
For some unquestionable kind of freedom
And I say back to him
Stupidly
"American. I speak English."

"Ah," he merely said
Nodding slowly
As if he should have known before

And our hearts
Both sank
Into pity, to
Dull
Dissatisfaction.

In the moment, in the place
In the single time and space
Where coexistence
Was forever manifest, where
All was right here, every
Variation
Compounded and complete
Natural, full
Sharp, pristine, and clouded
Flawless, filthy, fantastical and real

I am only the audience

Forever a witness
Is all.

I will never

Be a part

Of Heaven.





by Coke Brown Jr. -
as posted on Coke's Croaks -
www.cokescroaks.com