The Couple
1.Wellness in Seattle
There’s a man I see
walking jerkily
as befits his age
up that steep street
from Bellevue
where the park
on the corner
lets him shorten
his route a bit.
I note his breathing
shortens too,
lungs and legs
no doubt not
what they were.
Next corner has
Analog Coffee -
frequented, so he
suspects, by IT nerds.
He never goes in.
Sits a while facing
the Wellness Center,
checks his phone,
resumes his saunter.
Is he heading for
Molten Chocolate
Cakery? (newly
opened just blocks away).
No, he’s climbing
again, up to Broadway,
crossing near the railway
station (opening soon)
so he can enter
Cal Anderson Park
away from traffic,
where when it’s warmer
kids will paddle
and that drake seeming
all green sheen hotly
pursuing his drab duck
aflutter past the water
helter-skelter
may have a brood
of vulnerable
fluffy hatchlings
to look out for.
Beyond the play-field
and its fake turf -
its ball games, hectic
footwear, boys showing
off to girls, homeless
types sorting their gear -
he passes Lost Lake Cafe
where sated clients
pass leftover-boxes
to sidewalk campers,
turns back to Oddfellows’
new ‘little’ cafe (near
the big old) because it’s
tucked away in Seattle’s
best bookshop, Elliott Bay.
Legs can sprawl,
lung-puff and heart-beat
get back to normal,
eyes and mind enjoy
a free read - better
than a library -
with cake and coffee.
Chatting with nobody
but the barista (over
his loud-grinding machine),
eavesdropping wherever
he possibly can,
that’s his social life,
transitory alien,
out without his wife.
All this and an easy-chair
snooze will prepare
him for the walk back -
a well-beaten track
he likes to take
once or twice a week,
hoping - mind and body
exercised - decrepitude's
advance delayed -
never will he
feel the need to enter
the suspiciously
named Wellness Center.
2.Myalgic Encephalitis
Languishing in bed?
No, she says, accepting,
this is my disability -
which may never lift.
Life can still be relished,
especially through this window,
through these books, all fresh,
this world-roving laptop.
The clouds on good days
shuffle over, shape-shifting -
rabbits - various dogs -
all attract her camera eye.
She shops online, shoes arrive,
more than her non-walking
needs; if they don’t fit
they’re easily returned.
I say: who’s sent you a gift
from Israel? Oh - she sent
for it - opal - tiny - perfect
star of David, for her neck.
The stone, I wonder -
from Australia? crafting
done who knows where?
Tiny chain, tiny star.
May I take it and her
somewhere to show it off?
The ME forbids.
It too stays in bed.
We’ll go by Lyft car
to her appointment,
then a cafe, briefly.
Straight home to bed.
To think she once studied
and starved in Jerusalem!
Worked long hours in
demanding Melbourne.
The past is not lost -
it lurks for recall, returns
with a precious lustre
cupped in the hand
or linked, clasped finely
to her thoughtful person.
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