Thursday, July 24, 2014

Rainy Day/Sipping Chai

I sit, sipping chai,
gazing out the window
at the gray, drizzly morning.
I think of you last evening 
as you strode across the room.
I caught a glimpse of your bare back
above the waistband of your jeans,
And longed to touch your smooth skin,
To feel its taut silk beneath my fingertips
where it curves along your spine.
So close. So far away, you may as well 
be walking on the moon.
But the warm smell of you,
Even in my imagination, 
brings comfort to the cold rain
of my days.

Monday, July 21, 2014

A Kiss Under the Bridge of Sighs ...

A legend says that if Venetian lovers in a gondola 
were to kiss while passing under the Bridge of Sighs 
at sunset as the bells of St Mark's Campanile toll, 
they will be granted eternal love and bliss.

I don't know how that story applies to the bridge 
over the Central Canal at Michigan Street, 
but I'm more inclined to believe commuters driving
over the bridge would sigh in resignation
as they approached their cubicle jobs in downtown
Indy. That would be closer to the original story,
that said prisoners would sigh as they crossed the
bridge on their way to prison, knowing that the view
of Venice from the bridge would be their last.

A watercolor painting of the Bridge of Sighs
 by John Singer Sargent, 1904.
The Brooklyn Museum of Art, New York 

The gondolas live under the bridge during the day,
then are available for rides along the Central Canal
during the evenings. I've seen them being poled
the along the Canal and tied outside 
nearby restaurants.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Mermaid and Mermen

Early Saturday morning, I went to join other members 
of IAM for a swim practice at the Riviera Club 
on the near north side of Indy. I've been doing this 
for just over a year now. When I first went to Rivi, I could
not swim a full length of the pool (fifty yards)
without stopping about half way to catch my breath 
gather my nerve. On this day, I did most  of
the workout and was slightly chagrined
that the coach on deck did not ask me for more.

We began at eight in the morning and,
ninety minutes later, as I dried off in the spring-like
morning air, I looked over to see the little mermaid
floating in one of the kiddie pools. 
While a cartoonist's version of a female figure,
she nevertheless reflected the same version
of the body I still dream of attaining;
even in late middle age, I find myself affected
by years of social conditioning that
I need to look a certain way in order to
be attractive to men. What the hell?

This time a year ago, I could not swim 
seventy-five feet. I've since lost weight amounting 
to five dress sizes, I can swim over a mile 
without stopping, and I'm looking for more distance;
I want to swim three miles in the near future,
over six miles as the next goal, with longer-distance
open water swims as a main goal. 
 But, really, I still just want to be pretty

Friday, July 18, 2014

A Muted Rush

This is the introverted part of the day,
when the city's rush is muted by the rain, 
it's sound hushed by the spray
from tires on the pavement,
whispering its agreement.
Umbrellas, bright as flowers,
bob along the street,
Sprung from a garden of people
 cringing inside their coats. 
Heads down, strides choppy as they 
proceed to the day's work,
they rarely look around as they
"connect" with a disembodied other,
closer to voices than to people.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Cy Twombly in Downtown Indy

The textures and muted shades of concrete and brick
on a downtown building reminded me 
of Cy Twombly drawings. For whatever reason,
I can gaze at the artist's drawings for long periods of time,
lost in the lines and scratches evoking long-lost
civilizations and mythologies.
The rebar emerging from the concrete walls 
of this old buildingand the graffiti below seemed 
to echo some of Twombly's interests. 
I stood there a good while, gazing at the wall, 
its textures, and subtle changes in tone. 
In a time when every imperfection is screeded
over by a coating of scratchy taupe stucco,
this wall was a visual delight.

Cy Twombly. Untitled. 1964/84. Oil stick, wax crayon, and
graphite on canvas. 80-1/2 x 98-1/4 ins.  Whitney Museum of Art

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Monday, July 14, 2014

Bird on a Wire

I love things like this, a few spare lines 
against the background. 
In this case, a blue and white morning sky
provides the backdrop for electric wires and
their insulators. The little dove manages
to balance the whole thing.
Then, of course, it's inevitable ...