April 3rd poem

An I and a You

Woke up thinking of motherhood because I have not done that.  In high school I saved my brother from choking on a Cheerio in his high chair, so maybe he'll take care of me when I'm old, even though he doesn't remember.  I'm pretty sure I turned him upside down and everything, until his face wasn't red anymore, and then he just went on with his day.   

Woke up thinking with affection of my student who takes my same bus, who said in class (gently, firmly), "That flip-flopping.  That's how we learn." 

Cornel West says we can stop worrying about "Wholeness" in the Romantic sense.  Twain knew.  West says we all got here through the "funk of life."  "The love push that got us here," he says.  It's easier to imagine if your mother was a hippie, which mine was sort of, and young.

And what if that funky vessel turns around and buys you flannel pajamas with monkeys for Christmas and noise-reducing headphones and reads all your poems, even though she doesn't like poems?  If I never bring more people here, how do I pay it back?  How does the love push work then?

Voice says, "Be your own funky vessel."  The good-enough funk.