Reginald

turning the wheel
I sit in yuck
I did not come
to talk
I came to read, to rest
to think

he is a vampire
he has affixed his mind
on me,
his empty-eyed stare
on me
this schizoid acquaintance
to whom I pretend
to be a friend
because he seems to be
so interested
in being mine

I pull my attention
away, to my notebook
scribble, dig
I read my magazine
as Thich Nhat Hanh's student
watches clouds pass
I watch
clouds pass

turning the wheel
the yuck transforms
to liquid blue aura
in which we are both engulfed
he now staring at
the Saturday paper ads

could it be
we are both here
to feed each other
exactly
what we need
to experience