another fish, another pond

“I wonder what it’s like to be a big fish in a little pond… One of the last things my mother said to me…We were listening to the song, ‘She’s So High Above Me.” Ever hear it?”


He slowly nods no.


“The chorus goes…like Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, and some other grand woman. I sighed and told her I just wanted some guy to think that about me once. She told me that it would happen, ’cause I was already all of those women. ¬†She believed, so I believed. She died about a week later. I’m not so sure any more.”


“There are many people who have respect for you.”


“Sometimes, it’s hard for me to remember that. Think I would have better memory if I was a big fish?”


“You’re a beautiful fish.”


will he remember me?

i watched the slow motion

impact of him with the car.

the thump turned my eyes

from the red and green explosions.

did the fireworks drive him into the street?

i was the one who stood next to

his writhing body, bending over

not knowing what to say or do.

everyone told me to get back.

i told him it would be ok.

i wonder if he heard me.

i wonder if he already knew.

i wonder if he will remember me

in heaven or as a new fig tree.



after they shot her repeatedly and fatally in her own home,

their new chief, wondered aloud,

“what monster must they have seen?”

he saw his grandma.



is the pain different when you can say,

he looks like my cousin

my brother

my son.

is the pain different when you must say,

he is my cousin

my brother

my son.


is my saddened bystander pain anything?

will it ever be?