For Mr. Rossini
Teacher said, Make a meditation
out of anything, so I contemplate
the path of the tossed
away & forgotten. Some things get storm
battered, slung into the bumpy
river where they drift or lodge
under rocks, lost to deepening
mud. Is there a reason to grieve
a crumpled Butterfinger wrapper
whirling down train tracks? What about
Mr. Rossini, my former neighbor, silver
templed middle manager, who on his walk
home from the e-train always
smiled absently at me like
a ventriloquist’s dummy? He put
himself to sleep by idling
his 2005 Aviator overnight
in his covered garage. Teacher,
this meditation is for Mr. Rossini. It’s so
easy to get lost, all it takes is one
wrong turn or just a bum
set of directions.
10 thoughts on "For Mr. Rossini"
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“… the path of the tossed
away & forgotten ..”
is magical
Kevin
i like this ramble/roam, on the river, streets and train..
comparing Mr. Rossini to Butterfinger wrapper!!! Maybe his left turn was right…wonderful poem
I really enjoyed this, and now I grieve for him too
Teacher said, Make a meditation
out of anything, so I contemplate
the path of the tossed
away & forgotten
then a butterfinger wrapper is an old neighbor, but here’s the thing, I had to meditate to see it. lovely poem!
Dynamite ending!
That parallel ia powerful, to say the least.
For Mr. Rossini 😞
I like the meta aspect of this, writing a poem about (among other things) writing a poem.
Your people portraits are stunning!
It’s so easy to get lost – a powerful thread through all of this.