English Major

Back then they’d step out of their story

Their novel, their play, their poem and

Speak to us, deal with us. We knew them

And they knew us, where we were, where

We were going. We were quick to quote

Them when it fit. We’d nod when we saw

Their relevance playing out in front of us.

Being an English major in the 60s gave us

The material we needed to deal with the 60s

And the world it was making for us. We were

A crowd in a world of crowds. We had years

Of wisdom playing out in what we read and

What we heard in our classes. Shakespeare

And Milton, Becket and Ginsburg, Heller

And West – our lists were impressive and

Seemed endless. What else did we need to

Face what was coming at us? Years of it and

A life bolstered by it. What could go wrong

With this? Everything that could go wrong

Of course, went wrong. And all of it seems

Flimsy now – and turned out to be just that.

Where did all the 60s English major go and

Where did all that wisdom sneak off to?

                   Dreams

They show up in my dreams

People from my past, pass by.

Some silent, others saying

Things I remember them saying

Back then, safely in the past.

Some go by, seem familiar, but

I can’t recall their names. They

Are background figures, passing

By in my dreams like they did in

My past. Dreams do that these

Days, present places and spaces

Filled with characters that made

My past what it was, part ceremony

Part show, part story. They came in

In real time and now get their cameo

Appearances in my dreams. There’s

No explaining when and why they are

There in that dream on that night. I

Try to connect them to my present

But they fit uncomfortably, even if

I stretch things, connect some piece

Of my present to my dreamed past.

No they’re separate now, out of control

Playing my life out in these stray bits

Of my time.

                Joker

Been telling the same joke

living that same joke

For a long time now

Minutes of it and years of it.

Been laughing at my joke,

Even after I heard that one

About only a fool laughs

At his own joke or jokes

And I’d be foolish enough

To laugh aloud, join in

The general laughter

All around me.

Been a street clown

A circus clown

A stand-up comic

Part Laurel, part Hardy

One of the three stooges.

I’ve chuckled and guffawed

Been chuckled at and guffawed at

Been the butt of many jokes

And played the punch line

For all of it.