I have more compassion
when I know my limitations
and for all the facts I know
they don’t add up to the truth.
At a barbecue
I stood around
and talked to people
who might as well have been space aliens.
I was taken-aback by the Asian woman who asked me what I do
My gut reaction was to say, “I do nothing.”
But, I gave an appropriate response
and she told me that she works in HR
and the conversation fizzled-out
When I claim ignorance in conversation
people won’t argue with me.
Sometimes, I’m mystified by what they say
“I lived in California for 30 years. Today, feels like an earthquake day.”
“What does an earthquake day feel like?” I asked.
“Humid—it causes the plates to slip.”
I felt like I had entered into the Dark Ages…
The stories people say
when they aren’t corrected
are a gateway into the past
feast on brains
in the swamps and fog.
When I left the barbecue
I went to my parent’s house and talked about spiritual experiences
“Fire flows through you when you hear the spiritual wind,” my dad said.
His stories speak of altered sensations
and my mother’s concrete facts are so specific
she mixes them up, like word salad.
Which one is wrong more often?
And which one do we want to believe?