A Wild Surmise

Since You Asked

217 Since You Asked for Laurien Alexandre Since you asked if I’m writing about current conditions, I would have to answer that I’m not. What’s left to say more than Rukeyser already did? The second century of the wars has rolled out and I have to wonder if lies can get any more lie-like. Current conditions and high tides altogether too predictable. The nectarine in the paper bag on my counter— now that demands a decent use of nouns. Adjectives, yes, I drench the mangos with them. Even ripeness needs some help. Words that have the taste of truth. I listen to the crows’ morning complaints and set out peanuts for the scrub jays. I bury a little brown twig in the gravel with the toe of my shoe. This I can manage. But since you asked, I’m writing with a brush in place of a pen, smelling the sweetness of the ink stick. I’m painting tree limbs and bamboo leaves, sometimes waking from a dream of jade and amethyst, mulberry paper and silk, able to go on again. I try to live in a noble way, think of the good meanings of ritual objects and the tastes of spices and fruits. In the back of my mind, I hold at bay the feeling of powerlessness, the feeling of betrayal, each day asking of the current true believers who want to run the world, “What do you think we are? Stupid?” ...