Saturday, June 24, 2017

Joan Ruvinsky - For the record

It is this constant flux, breathing in, breathing out.
Sometimes there is no one there at all.
In town, everyone smiles at no one, and no one smiles back
and no one knows no one isn't there.
Sometimes, at home, no one goes to the wood shed
and comes back with an armful of logs, different shapes, different sizes,
so no one gets cold where no one is living.
No one calls, so the telephone doesn't ring,
but it doesn't matter because no one is there to answer it anyway.
One day, not long ago, no one went to the woods
so there weren't any tracks to follow in case of a suspected disappearance.
No one would think to look anyway because no one even lives near there anymore.
It was no surprise when no one came back unbenounced
since no one knew anyone had left in the first place.
No special occasion.
Just breathing out and breathing in.
Nothing notable.
Sometimes no one goes to the grocery store for provisions,
mostly when there is nothing left to eat.
It is a six-mile trip. It takes no time at all.
The store is never crowded when no one is there.
Off hours. No one cooks much anymore so shopping is simple.
Some nights before bed, no one sets the alarm
because it isn't necessary to wake up at any particular time.
No one is there to wake up.
So waking up is no problem as it happens by itself.
Nothing alarming.
Just breathing in and breathing out.
When no one is laughing, nothing much happens.
When no one isn't laughing, it is the same.
Only variations in the passing air.
No one is particularly puzzled by this.
It seems so natural. Nothing noteworthy.
No one wonders if it has always been this way.
No one can't remember. It is a gift everyone has.
Memory. No one remembers this.
It is as natural as breathing out and breathing in.
No one comes and goes but no one is there to notice,
so no one takes note of it here so nothing will be missed.
This is just for the record.


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