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[I posted this poem before the terrible news about the earthquake in Chile, so the reference to the tsunami was a complete coincidence.]

Instead I am here
not an amber-eyed sea gypsy
traveling by sunlight, without
a time piece in sight,
floating on tides
always, always,
first to hear the whisper
of a distant tsunami
as the assassin begins
its dreaded ocean ride

Instead I am here
not in Lebanon
with Gibran
making music
wearing only
a jeweled belt on hips
that are svelte, that carve
fertility, life, with the precision
of a freshly sharpened knife

Instead I am here
not there
pushing
a soul thieving tune
of delta blues across
a red lit room full of
cigarette smoke and sex
and heat and gloom

Instead I am here
not a velvet-voiced Venetian
who wears her wrinkles
as a sensual choice, only bathes
in slices of light from a half-moon,
who cooks, loves, tends, to her deep
sauce of garlic and ripe tomatoes,
and licks the silver off of spoons

Instead I am here
with you
living
between the bookends
of a hundred years
with gratitude for the salt
in tears, sweat, and ocean
letting go
learning acceptance
instead I am here,
with you

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