Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Thursday, May 30, 2013

My Wife Provides Rational Grounds for Subjectivity

by Ben Brezner

Lucky landings
in places where
drinks still run cheap
like High Life jokes

tippling opinions, reminiscences,
oaths from pink lips,
empty now and
forever of all but

streetlight traintracks
wooze overhead,
gargantuan legs
pocked by night eyes,
sidewalk ok’s
your man’s an’ ‘em.

cross the border,
cover your head in deference.
What do we need God for again?
Forget it!

Sweet-talk plastered with dandelions,
Shalom Aleichim,
Aleikim Salaam
goat meat (I think),
partridge in the fridge,
greased freedom and gunpowder,
actual interactions with
human beings and vermouth.

Translate me into
whoever you are,
we’ll sit together on a swing
wrapped in knotted daffodils
as our friends feed us sweets,
follow the vedantas,
jig in the same circles
scribed by our ancestors.

Arms interlaced around us,
we’ll challenge each other
to more intricate hops
more Frangelico on the rocks.

You say you’ll marry me.
I’ll sober up and drive us
to a friendly bed,
a peeping Tom dawn
and we’re gone,
adieu to our home and native land.

The long path to exile
passes obscure saints,
and rivers I never meant to cross
and don’t plan to,

but who can fish
a fact from the future
in these days of crimped crowflight,
crooked power lines?

“I like you,” you say,
“But not your breath
at this time of day.

And it’s time
to get some food.”

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