Jho's Place

Hapiness

This week's Poem:

Happiness

So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.

When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.

They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.

I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.

They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.

Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.

Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.

(by, Raymond Clevie Carver found at Oldpoetry.com)



Editor's Notes:

Yesterday was errand day. Well actually it was this kid Brian who needed to run errands. Brian is 23 and has currently moved to Minnesota to pursure his Masters in Linguistics without a car. I met Brian on Gay.com home of friendships, hook-ups, and friendships with benefits. Brian needed a friend, in my opinion, since I am a sucker for the lost soul; the ones who are not yet established in this cold city of Murderapolis.

My first visit with Brian proved to be a very successful friendship date. Friendship dates are like romance dates except there is no kiss, lingering hug, or sex therefore the nerves before the encounter are not as strong yet still exist. Walking to his house was an enlightenment. Brian lives near the Minneapolis Insitute of Art and attempting a brisk walk their had seemed irrational until that day. As I waited for a light on 24th Ave S. and 1st, I was distracted when I looked down the side street at the backside of a potentially good looking man. He was working on his lawn, in his 30's, knew how clothes are meant to flatter the body, with his little yippy dog by his side. As he turned a little I saw his strawberry blonde hair and handsome face just as his dog ran up to greet two frightened Somali women in traditonal dress one in blue one in mauve. "Hey what's that!," I said to the dog in a very excited voice pointing it back towards his owner. The Owner had now noticed what was going on and was moving towards me. He was definately cute, handsome and gay. He smiled at me and said thanks, our gazed lingered, and if life was a movie I would have introduced myself and our mutal struggles to find a soul mate would have finally ended. I said "No worries," and smiled my I-know-you're-gay-and-I-know-you-know-I-am-gay-and-you-think-I-am-cute-and-I-think-you-are-cute smile and walked on. That was a good moment. I told everyone the next day, "It only takes me 30 min to walk to the Minneapolis Institute of Art!" What a revalation. All those days sititting in my room staring at my ceiling when I could been staring at a Monet or Rembrant and analzing their meaning through their brush strokes and my emotional state. I was energized and resfreshed when I reached Brian's rental home and the date was successful. The friendship had begun to thrive when I realized he did not only know about the cartoon Invader Zim, but he could quote it and laugh while doing so which is a rare quality to find in a man.

So, two weeks later I drove him on errands and just enjoyed the chill factor of tagging along. At Circuit City I watched Mulon Rouge on the $2,999 awesome Tosabi DVR, HD mini-widescreen, laptop and talked to a captive audience of one while I waited for Brian to mull over what computer to buy. The Tosabi sales man had just bought a condo in the International Market Square, has two rental units, recently moved in with his parents, and gets no discount through Tosabi. He was so friendly, and such a great conversationlist, I was tempted to invite him along.

Brian and I ate brunch at the Edina Cafe, after venturing into some way over priced store on 50th and France, and sat at the counter. I didn't say hi to Jon Weaver from HGA because I was too entertained by the 50 something straight couple next to us and the wait staff ringing up orders right in front of us. "I hate cantalope, and I hate it even more because no matter what other fruit you put it with everything else tastes like it, " Brian whispered to me. "Thank-you!," exclaimed the random ponytailed waitress with a empathic, exasperated hand gesture. Later the 50 something straight couple's food was being passed over my hands. I automatically slid the man's plate of bacon over to him by actually touching, not the edge of the plate, but the inside of the plate like he was family. "I'm sorry. I guess I just can't help myself." "That's alright," he said, then continued, "So does that make you a caregiver or a caretaker?" We spent the next few minutes coming up with a definition. A caregiver was someone who helped out from time to time and a caretaker took care of others 24/7 and that was the basis of their happiness. I choose caregiver.

On the west side of Lake of the Isles is a Native American book store and that was our last stop. I read poetry while Brian chatted with the staff, and I came across 'Happiness'. I read it over and over again seeing some new detail in it's simple delievery and felt connected to the world. I was not the only one who had moments like the one described. I never understood that you could be connected with someone without even saying a word until a friend, who I was having Perkin's with in high school, said, "You know when you are with good friends you don't always have to be talking." I took it as an insult of my chartector at that time, but have since adopted her truth. Too bad we are no longer friends.

Driving back to Brian's house, I took five minutes to turn up the "Wild Horses," rolled down my squeaky window, leaned back in my seat, and stuck my arm out the window trying to catch the rush of air through my fingertips. I took in the scene of the Lake and noticed Brian doing the same. I was "in the moment", and the absense of speech elisited the rare feeling of being content with my life.

posted by makeisweet @ 11:07 PM