A most pleasant walk

I wanted to go when it wasn’t
raining, and it wasn’t.
I saw how all is beautiful
if you just let your eye
adjust to it: the anchor on the
houseboat, the well-wishing
at the door, the kid’s book-
bag and yellow raincoat.
I remembered visiting Father
Imbelli’s mother, before
he and I made that retreat:
the narrow wall with books,
her Sinatra record, the window
looking out over the Bronx.
Later, at Maryknoll, we ate
from trays in the institutional
dining hall (I love those, the trays
and the dining halls), and drank
Jack Daniels while looking out
over the Hudson. Isn’t that what
we’re meant to do, take
the God’s-eye view
and love the supper from our tray?

On seeing, without the aid of John or Lear

I uncoupled the two eye-beams

and sent them in search of what

I did not know. This proved to be

where people have their lunch,

corners with not a lot,

and rafter bats.

PIN codes were not my concern,

nor were people in

various states of undress.

I’d liked to have seen, however,

the insides of the latter,

or rather,

the insides of their insides.

But alas! My beams are bogus beams

whose insights couldn’t be flatter.