Not “It Had to be You,” as in the Frank Sinatra song,
not pre-determined as that, but still
someone planned your fate back in the Dark Ages.
It was written up and pasted on plaster walls,
horns sounded its essence. Through swamps and mosquitoes,
fog climbing into boats,
the landing at Normandy, the kiss in the snowy parking lot,
it was always meant to be you.
Candles were lit in tiny red jars for you.
Buddha woke beneath the Bodhi tree.
You recited the Kama Sutra
and eyeglass cases snapped open. For you, leaves fell
onto the backs of soldiers lying in the Argonne woods,
the whippoorwill sang, the mouse ran up the clock,
a white stallion galloped across the plains of inner America,
Broadway’s lights rose. It was always
meant to be you who looked up from the windows of an upstairs bedroom,
named cats “Kaleidoscope” and “Mr. Dalton” and “A Shot in the Dark,”
who dressed like someone never forgetting to refill the blue salt shaker,
teased poems from parked cars,
took prayers from small blue frogs with their tongues extended,
who wept so little your eyes dried out,
filled breathless intervals.
bore a chalice down a small church aisle.
Not the phantom pop song woman who could be almost anyone,
or the woman floating in a veil of sentiment,
but the specific you who cracks her toes at night,
lisps saying “sexual,” dances on linoleum floors,
believes that history has purposes beyond red sofa couch cushions.
It was always meant to be you.
until the stores roll up their awnings on Forever Avenue,
the million-million bodhisattvas have no one left to save.
© Dick Allen 🔒
Some other random works of this poet:
- The Taoist
- James Dean Walking Along a Wet Street in New York in 1955
- Tip Of The Iceberg
- Still Waters
- This Far
- Old Zen Master
- Abrakadabra, Ala Kazam
- Outside Elements
- The Persistence
- Memo From The Desk Of Wallace Stevens
- Oh Rousseau, Rousseau
- Gilding the Lily
- Dwelling in the Moment
- The Accompanist
- “The Little Hurts”
- “God Gives to Every Bird Its Proper Food But They Must All Fly For It”
- To the S-F Woman
- Husband, Wife
- What The Zen Master Told Us
- A Winter Morning
- Poem for My 36th Birthday
- Zen Living
- Patches of Sunlight
- The Neykhor
- The Puzzling Beauty of the Here and Now.
- Calligraphy Accompanied by the Mood of a Calm but Definitive Sauce
- The Adult Section
- Almost Nowhere in the World, as Far as Anyone Can Tell
- Barge Lights on the Hudson
- The Same River, Twice
- With Drizzled Warm Butter, Intensely Rendered
- Notes after Ether
- I Will Buy A Chicken: A Duet
- Notes toward a Credo
- The Commuter
- Man of the Cloth
- The Report
- The Afterlife
- The Flippant Zen Master
- Time To Hear Ourselves Think
- The Last Ditch
- Feeling the Day
- What You Have to Get Over