Guzlowski-Stepek: The Never-ending Poem

 What we want we lack but what if what we lack doesn't exist and we've been dreaming of it all these years not knowing we've been wanting something unreal? I remember wanting so much that wasn't possible. I wanted summer to follow autumn and summer to follow winter and autumn to be summer with colours and winter to be summer with warm snow So busy waiting for something to end that couldn't end. So busy wanting to be not here when the only place I was is here and so busy wanting to be in a future when the only time I ever had was now.

We want what we want but what if what we want is left someplace else and all we know is that we once wanted something. I remember the wanting. One spring one summer one fall one winter. Waiting for the wanting to be more than waiting for the wanting to end. It was the wanting that brought me here even before I knew where here was.

(For Dad, Danka, and Zosia. It's all stored here, in the epigenetics.)  God, I remember what  I needed. Not false needs, not truth. You can't eat Truth, even with a capital T. The bread was always just ahead at the next train station The promise of jam tomorrow for the skin and bones, ribs like spokes on a bicycle. And what about my children? Who pinched their dreams of a life to be? I don’t even know if they’re  dead or still breathing,  whether they need a doctor or a hug or a life far away, say,  in Scotland, and maybe they'll lie beneath a tombstone there, one day.

Do I remember what  I needed?   The false needs, the true? The love that was just ahead at the next bus stop The promise of tomorrow for the man of tomorrow, superman on a bicycle? And what about my friends who pitched their dream to me? I don’t even know if they’re  dead or still breathing,  whether they need a beer or a cigarette or a trip  to Honolulu or a tombstone