Last year, it was,
I drove past your flat.
I don’t know, you might not have been in.
My intention had been to visit,
To say hello,
See how you were doing,
try my best to hide my feelings,
reveal the inevitable changes;
thinning of skin and hair, duskiness of eye.
Loss of weight, fragility, frailty, fatigue – I can only imagine.
I had it all planned.
Head south, drive-up and surprise.
I stopped with the surprise visits a couple of decades ago.
Like the time I disappeared from Dundee,
riding along with
In his battered Fiesta which had no front window,
Just a flapping plastic sheet.
I disappeared with the intention of knocking on the door,
Here I am. (Appear, without fanfare, on the settee)
I later learned of the concern.
I don’t think a young person falling off the map then caused as much worry as now; for today we are all connected; instantaneously with whomever we wish. Unavailability is more often intentional.
And this reflects on me,
It says something about my,
sense of self,
and, position in the world.
I return to who I am,
Which is really a way of saying,
Every one of us counts,
But some more than others,
And when we are measured,
We are not all alike.
I have always struggled to say, ‘Here, look.’
‘Yes, me, now.’
Recently, I was reading the Gallic Wars,
Caesar, as third-person hero,
As a leader who led the fall of Gaul,
As he directed his minions,
Standing proud in red cloak.
This is one extreme.
We all must surely sit somewhere on a continuum of self-importance.
And how do I differ from Julius, beyond 2000 years?
Both guys, both, presumably enjoying time alone to think;
And, it is likely this latter
Where we differ –
(that and my dislike of violence, torture or cruelty).
I reckon that Julius
Would have stopped his car,
Rung the bell,
Not cared whether his position led to imposition
or his expressions
He’d have done what he had to do and moved on.