Ron Padgett
Alone and Not Alone
Alone and Not Alone
Out of the water
came the one
who reached back
into the water
and pulled out the zero.
The time is now.
The time is now 8:15 p.m.
Eastern Standard Time.
In Beijing Lan Lan
is getting up
tomorrow.
I see her pretty, smiling face
as she curls back the covers.
Tonight I
will get under the covers
and think of her face
not because I
am in love with her
but because I
like her face
though I
do not want it
on my head.
Out of the water
came my head,
head first, whoosh!
A person’s head
does not belong
underwater.
Look at fish!
Who wants to be one?
I would
for a moment
or two. Then
back to me.
It would be terrible
to alternate
being fish
and person
every few seconds.
We inhale
then exhale
every few seconds.
Lan Lan’s
two daughters
are inhaling and exhaling,
still asleep –
it is Sunday
in Beijing.
Lan Lan’s husband
is sitting at a table
in the kitchen
thinking
about the poetry
of Alexander Blok.
Alexander Blok
is pouring hot water
into the teapot.
Out of the water
came the tea
and out of the tea
came the scent of jasmine.
And then Alexander Blok
was not there.
He had to go away
and die again.
He exhaled and then
exhaled, and then
was like a dead fish,
wrapped in a newspaper
whose headline says
BLOK DEAD.
He reached back
and pulled himself
out of life
and into those two words.
Lan Lan’s husband
looks up confused –
his mind is in Russian
but everything else
is in Chinese
when she comes in
and the jasmine is deeper
and more of you now.
It is 8:33.
What happened?
You were not alone
in thinking you were alone.