I

it is day 43 of a 72-day
experimental
peanut butter-heavy diet

for me
it is easy

like other
veterans
i’ve known
my food essentials
begin and end with
peanut butter

everything else optional

so, yeah,
i volunteered
i so volunteered
so walked forward
full frontal
of my own choosing

no.
not walked.
the motion forward was less
restrained, more chaotic
less reversible ...

plunged. i plunged--
convinced, convicted
excited
no holds barred
expectant--
into it
into this life of strange, minimal
food essentials:
coffee, chocolate, peanut butter
and beer.

body wavering
water cold
cold
ice cold
scraping the bottom ...

not the best idea
to knife dive
from 60 feet and more
into the liminal waters
of a lake carved out from
the earth by a glacier
yet

eyes wide open
golden streams of sunlight
bent under the surface
refracted
mixed with fragments
algae, mud, silt
and other flotsam
underneath, opaque green
rocks and boulders
outcroppings of the rock above
underneath and below
furred in underwater moss
making coves and passages
of the uneven ground
under

surfacing
in an instant
adrenalin pumping wildly
a cork bobbing
as I shake
the silt from my suit
the sense of tiny creatures
unknown and uncountable
everywhere scrabbling, disturbed from the muck
scraped up from the bottom,
an unknown floor,
spooking the hairs on the back of my neck

the world above light blue and sharp
the air colder than the water
a heavy block
nudging my shoulders
below the surface
where it is warm
treading water
i drink it all in

someone yells
"ow!"
and another says "it bit me!"
and a third informs
"it's a fish!"

and bravery for the day is ended
as we clamber out and up
find towels
and once dry
bask ourselves in unfiltered sun.

II

one of us ate peanut butter
not meaning to reject, but simply unseeing
the meals set aside by a worried partner;
another collected baby chicks;
a third worked alone on the farthest ranges
that could be found;
yet another had himself committed
once a year about this time
every year;
the last got engaged to 8 others
(not counting the one among us
who told the story
so far as it could be told
then).

each had a different picture
and the story could not be told
without them
without their vision
without their perspective
without their pieces

we who knew him best
knew him not.

"what else can you eat from these things?"
she had asked.
"so much salt and god knows what else!"
she kept the peanut butter and crackers
and threw the rest away
except for the chocolate
the cake he liked
and anything she could trade.

full moon over pines and sand
it was the first time in years
i did not fear the night, and
for years again after.

III

the nights were so cold
we plugged our cars in.

what do you mean, "what do you mean"?

all cars have a grounded
female plug end
hanging from the block.

the engine block
what block did you think i meant?

what do you mean, "what engine block"?

sigh

IV

he stroked me off with such gentleness
and i cried
so that is what it is for!

he left me before dawn
sneaking out the back
down the stairs
slipping into his car
he waited to start the engine
near the street
so as not to wake the landlord
but i heard the crunch of stone
under the wheels

we loved each other as
much as we could
disturbing his brother in the
bunk above
me, giggling
i stroked him so hard
he nearly burst before
entering me
i was so hungry for him
my back arched and my
butt scrunched as
i positioned myself under him
moving with him
until we were sympatico
and each move
sent us both into
sensual ecstasy

he was perfect
and beautiful
and i
i
i ...
i regret not a moment of it

V

i loved dressing
to undress
each other

when we got silly
i'd wear your suitcoat and tie
maybe heels
and nothing else
and you'd wear your shirt unbuttoned
just so
without an undershirt
and slacks, sockless in your shoes
or maybe you hadn't changed yet
and were still in your suit

you'd ask me if you
could buy me a drink
and we'd melt each other
with our eyes
and kisses
and breath

sometimes
we
would not
make it
to the bed
room

VI

daffodils open when the air is still cool
embracing wind and cold
the earth is not warmed yet
either
but the yellow in their
flesh
calls to the sun
and together they warm
each other

VII

snow
a world of cold and white and damp and
shadow
austere
black-brown trees
stand sentry
alongside their blue shadows
growing long
in afternoon sun
fractured over wind-sculpted drifts
their planes
broken by hollow bits of hay and straw
stripped of green and burnished gold
belying the maze-like network
underground
in which mice
play and eat and
at night
hide from the owl's
soundless hunt

VIII

forgotten in church windows
i was just as scared
but you i loved

and so i told you stories
made up
whatever came to mind
and so you made me strong

later i extemporized
for others:

a friend who could not sleep
one who was afraid
the friend of a friend of a friend who had gone
the children of my siblings
the child of a friend

a man i have almost forgotten
and nearly no longer dream about
who tried to kill me more times
than i want to know
he was, i thought, sick then
he said he heard everything
but he did not
he did not hear my leaving
and has not heard my life since
thrumming with life and love and richness
unimaginable
all the beauty he said i was not worth
all the glory he said i would never own
all the bravery he said i did not have
all the truth he called lies
all the life he could not take

IX

my chickens
i sing to you of life and love
forgiveness and regret
choices made and choices unmade
of strength you do not know you have
of life you do not know you are living

of the building of
what we are
and will be
and always have been
of knowledge without understanding
of understanding without words
of feeling without dying
of dying without living
of bees and peach trees
geese that protect
dead ducks who are half skeletons
of trees exploding into color
their pulse imperceptible
languages unknown
vast consciousness waiting
just waiting
for us to engage
the circle of life

X

reconciliation comes not without shouts and whimpers
rage and fear
anger and tears
but it eventually does
come.

no.

it has always been there
we just had to catch up.