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Dave Bonta
eloquent lives I fear:
the door to a college
the herring poor
my father’s buckle
High above the Canyon Freeway
Amid a sea of ivy
Float numerous shiny-stoned buildings
Which comprise Chapparal State College.
Beneath the ivy lie wild strawberries.
These are in the process of decaying,
Causing a pungent odor to fill the air.
Few students know about the strawberries;
They think the smell comes from a broken gas-main.
I have tried to spread the news of the strawberries;
But the students only smile.
And when my back is turned, they laugh.
If I could just get a few of them
To look under the ivy with me.
Mom’s goal was to graduate college
but dad’s goal was mom.
The glimmer of the limes, sun-heavy, sleeping,
Goes trembling past me up the College wall.
Below, the lawn, in soft blue shade is keeping,
The daisy-froth quiescent, softly in thrall.
Beyond the leaves that overhang the street,
Along the flagged, clean pavement summer-white,
Passes the world with shadows at their feet
Going left and right.
Remote, although I hear the beggar's cough,
See the woman's twinkling fingers tend him a
coin,
I sit absolved, assured I am better off
Beyond a world I never want to join.