this simple miscalculation of our circadian rhythms
he stands outside in the cold. you in the warmth of
light and hot tea. me in heels and she wandering lost
how are we chosen. how can i travel so far so young
to live within a ten mile radius these last twenty plus
years. why one street not the other. what strength did
we possess to escape such sights. did i mention i missed
him by ten minutes: this monk who reaches my chin
who is no bigger than a large child. i missed him by
ten minutes. exhausted i drove. at my end - i prayed
i turned right and there he was on the ground. police
surrounding him. thirty thousand in damages. and
all i could say was - why could you not wait. why not
wait. and all he could say to me in his little english: it
was tomorrow. tomorrow. tomorrow. before he looked
away from me and i was escorted back to my electric
car. flirted with and told to go home and rest. it was not
my fault. it was. it is. ten minutes. ten times ten for this
i will do this life over. for him. to find him ten minutes
before life ebbs in and takes him again. why him, why
her. why me here, why you there: what keeps us going:
these circadian rhythms we can hear only if we pray a
bit sooner and offer a bit of tea and some comfortable shoes
