In the guise of a beggar, Odysseus returned to Ithaca.
First person and present tense must strike you as odd-- how I could both greet and
record your emergence from this crowd of funneled souls, recount details that never occurred,
at least not regarding your arriving at 4:10, then 5:25, and here I am, still, at 8:30, but
none of that matters, had or has to happen, since I write whether true or not as I wait, first see then
don’t see your distinctive stride, your hazel gaze in seventeen other rushing women before your
breakthrough just now and all those other times with your amazed smile and into my open lines.
D. R. Jameshas taught writing, literature, and peace-making at a small, Midwestern college for 33 years and lives and writes in the woods east of Saugatuck, Michigan. Poems and prose appear in various journals and anthologies, and his most recent of seven poetry collections are If god were gentle (Dos Madres Press) and the chapbooks Split-Level and Why War (both Finishing Line Press). www.amazon.com/author/drjamesauthorpage