Jul 092011

by Lee Stern

I don’t see any need for me to go to the ocean today.

Other people can go there.

And see if the glasses they left

the last time they were there are still there

in the same bag they were carrying with them when it started to rain.

And sure, that is, if they want, they can do that all day long

and not even have to ask me for my permission.

Because my permission, you’ve probably figured out by now,

really doesn’t mean that something important’s going to get done

when they say that it has to get done.

My permission is like something you left at the edge of the sea

when you forgot what else it was that accounted for your priorities;

when you forgot

to tell me that the unsung lenses you threw in your eyes

made accurate rainbows

dissolve within the axle of your will.