I am there but I am not. I am here but I am not.
EVERYDAY LOSER [Poetry]

I am there but I am not. I am here but I am not.
we made a game of it, sprawled in the back seat
I look out into his garden every day now while I drink my coffee from his cup and he continues not being around...
Minorities against majorities
At ten in the morning, the day I failed
Vague and imprecise forgetful as my father...
Years later,
20-odd
(and that’s something,
hard as it is for
tango to take),
I was made known
that I have two children.
His is also a distinctly temporal call when his poems evoke the physicality of touch and sensations to denote profound expressions on loss and love.
How to remember a life, to reconcile losses with the joy of living, to sort the puzzle of what was imagined and what became real? These are the questions that marked my reading of Route 66 and Its Sorrows by Carolyn Miller.
Poetry came in my late teens-first, as a requirement for an amateur writing workshop I was selected to attend at age 15 then a few years later when a friend asked me to edit a poem he wrote for a girl. I became jealous of this use of a powerful but shorter art form and decide to try it.