A Treatise on Certainty

Last night,
in a hospital bed,
my Mom went puff, puff, gurgle,
blood came out,
she was gone.

This morning,
in our old neighborhood,
it rains so hard;
Gordon Drive fills and flows,
a rushing stream.
I am knee deep, fly fishing,
netting a speckled rainbow.

Maybe I’m dreaming the former,
the latter, neither or both.
I never know.

I look up to see all
our neighbors along the curb,
standing or sitting
in cloth-back chairs,
this spectacular autumn.

Then we see her,
around the bend she comes
spinning stern to bow, stern to bow,
in a flat bottom boat.
Blue eyed, a baby-blue coffin dress,
waving to everybody,
waving to everything.

They sing,
“So long, Blanche, so long!”

I can only watch;
downstream,
the boat draws right,
disappears down Valley Drive;
forever.

bye,
          bye,
                    goodbye…